Dead Giveaway. Brenda Novak

we really afford to hunker down and just hope for the best?”

      No. He knew they couldn’t.

      “Clay.” His mother touched his arm.

      “What?”

      “We have to do whatever we can.”

      She was right. He couldn’t pretend Allie didn’t have the skills and determination to reveal what—so far—he’d managed to hide. Maybe he should spend some time with her, try to neutralize the threat. What better choice did he have? He could be careful, maintain just enough distance.

      He wondered if he’d ever be able to throw off the yoke of the past. “Fine,” he said with a sigh.

      His mother smiled in apparent relief, as if she thought he’d crook his finger and Allie would forget all about Lucas and Barker. Problem solved.

      If only it was that simple.

      Chapter 5

      That evening, after Clay stepped out of the shower and finished toweling his hair, he called his stepsister, Madeline, on the cordless phone he’d taken into the bathroom. He loved Maddy, talked to her often. Irene, Grace and Molly did, too.After her father “went missing,” she’d chosen to stay with them instead of going to live with Barker’s extended relatives and was as much a part of the family as any one of them. They shared everything with her—except the secret destined to make her hate them if she ever found out.

      “Hey, I ran into Beth Ann when I was getting gas today,” she said the moment she heard his voice.

      He hung the towel on the rack behind him. “Am I supposed to be excited about that?”

      “I thought you might want to know that I already heard what happened at the farm night before last.”

      “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” he said, leaving the steamy bathroom and heading into his bedroom.

      “Well, maybe this will. The version she gave me is quite different from the rumors going around town.”

      He twisted in front of the mirror to see how the scratches on his back were healing. “Is this good or bad news?”

      “Good news.”

      The scratches were almost gone. That was good news, too. “Then she didn’t tell you I tried to kill her?”

      “She just said you broke up with her.”

      “Even that isn’t true,” he muttered as he delved into his underwear drawer.

      “How’s that?”

      “There wasn’t any commitment between us to begin with.”

      “She was hoping for one. She feels terrible about calling the cops on you, by the way. She claims she’s in love with you.”

      He pulled on his boxer briefs. “Don’t worry. She’ll be in love with someone else next week.”

      “You’re so cynical,” she said, laughing. “But maybe you’re right. She had John Keller in the car while she was crying over you, and he seemed more than willing to comfort her.”

      “John Keller?” he repeated, not immediately recognizing the name.

      “The guy who manages Stillwater Sand and Gravel for Joe Vincelli’s parents. Why? Jealous?”

      “No.” He selected a pair of jeans. “I thought Joe managed the gravel pit.”

      “He has the title. But he doesn’t do much other than chase women and drink beer. At least since he divorced Cindy. John’s the one who keeps the business afloat.”

      If Madeline said it, it was probably true. No one knew Stillwater and the people living in it better than she did. It was her job to know. She owned the Stillwater Independent, a weekly paper she’d bought two years ago from the old couple who’d published it before.

      “Good old Joe,” he said, putting on his pants.

      “I know. Not your favorite person.”

      “An understatement if I’ve ever heard one.” Joe had instigated the last search of the farm.And Joe had mistreated Grace. Clay knew he didn’t have the whole story and doubted Grace would ever tell him, but he’d gathered enough to suspect that the hatred between his sister and Joe stemmed from high school. Clay also guessed the contact between them had been sexual in nature. But after what his sister had been through, he didn’t judge her. Barker had nearly destroyed her.After what had happened when she was only thirteen, she’d acted out in various ways, no doubt hoping to finish the job—and Joe had been there, ready and eager to take advantage, to inflict even more damage.

      Clay had done what he could, but Grace had thwarted his attempts to protect her, and he couldn’t help her if she wouldn’t confide in him. So, he’d watch helplessly as she searched for the attention she needed, the love and support she’d rejected from her family.

      Until recently. Somehow, she’d managed to survive even her own self-loathing and Joe’s opportunistic abuse. And now she was happy, and Clay was going to make damn sure she stayed that way, if he had to sit at the farm and guard whatever forensic evidence remained until he rotted right along with Barker.

      Which reminded him of the purpose behind his call.

      “What are you doing tonight?” he asked, holding the phone with his shoulder so he could button his fly.

      “Kirk said he’d like to shoot some pool. Why? Want to come?”

      Kirk Vantassel, a roofing contractor, was Madeline’s longtime boyfriend. Clay kept expecting them to marry but, so far, they weren’t even engaged. In some ways, they acted more like brother and sister than boyfriend and girlfriend.

      “I know you don’t like crowds, and Good Times is busy on Friday night,” she said. “But it’d be fun for you to get out. You don’t do it often enough.”

      “I’ll meet you over there.” He held the phone out as he pulled on a T-shirt. “Any chance you could convince Allie McCormick to come?” he asked when he had his head through.

      “You mean with us? You want me to set you up with Allie?”

      “Nothing like that,” he replied. “I was just hoping to get to know her a little.”

      “I see,” she said, drawing the word out as though she saw far more than he intended.

      “Stop it.” He shrugged into a button-down shirt and splashed on some cologne. “She’s investigating Dad’s case, isn’t she? I figure I might as well talk to her, see if there’s anything I can do to help.” Clay hated making such statements, hated being the hypocrite he was when it came to Maddy but, once again, past actions propelled current ones.

      “Considering how you feel about the police, that’s generous of you. I’ll call her,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to, anyway. She left a message on my answering machine, asking about Dad’s Bible.”

      “Why? Does she want to look at it?”

      “Yeah.”

      Clay felt another trickle of unease. Would Allie see the demented man behind the notes the reverend had made in the front and back pages of that Bible? Or, like Madeline, would she see a pious man who loved his new family—and was particularly impressed with his oldest stepdaughter?

      At times like this, Clay felt almost justified in keeping the truth from Madeline. Wondering where her father had gone was hard. Especially because she had to deal with the fear that he’d abandoned her. But learning that her father wasn’t fit to breathe the same air as other human beings would be much harder. Of course, that was assuming she’d believe the truth if she heard it. Certainly no one else would.

      “I’m going to grab some dinner,” he said. “I’ll