Dead Right. Brenda Novak

      “They didn’t?”

      “No. She called and offered, but they turned her down.”

      The Vincellis had gotten to Toby, just as she’d expected. Otherwise, he would’ve included Allie. Allie had more experience in gathering evidence than anyone in Stillwater; she would’ve been the obvious choice. “I’m sure they’re doing their best. Chief Pontiff is a good man.”

      But he was new at his job, and Madeline didn’t have a lot of confidence in his ability to shrug off the political influence of people like Mayor Nibley, who happened to be a friend of the Vincellis.

      “Chief McCormick was a good man, too,” Irene said bitterly.

      Madeline didn’t respond. Her stepmother was still in love with Allie’s father. That was clear. Not that she saw him anymore. The McCormicks had relocated in an attempt to save their marriage. According to Allie, they were managing, although it remained to be seen whether or not they’d ultimately succeed.

      Madeline knew Irene was hoping against it. Her stepmother was so lonely she dropped in more often these days. With Clay and Grace both married, and Molly living in New York, it was natural that she’d turn to Madeline. But Madeline could’ve survived without today’s visit. Her stepmother’s angst added fuel to her own.

      “Should we call him?” Madeline asked.

      Irene nodded, but the phone rang before Madeline could reach it.

      Bending over the desk, she pulled it toward her. Caller ID registered a blocked number, but she still hoped it was Chief Pontiff. “Stillwater Independent,” she said.

      “Madeline?” The voice was muffled, odd, as if someone was purposely trying to disguise it.

      “Yes?” she said hesitantly.

      “I heard your father’s car was found in the quarry.”

      Madeline was fairly certain it was a woman, although the caller was attempting to deepen her voice. “That’s true.”

      “It was Clay who drove it there. I saw him,” she said.

      Then the phone went dead.

      Chapter Four

      Madeline told herself that it was just another crank call. She’d gotten a lot of them, all promising information they never delivered. But there was something different about this one. The caller had seemed so nervous, so self-conscious, so…genuine.

      Irene watched her with worried eyes. “What is it?”

      “Wrong number.” She conjured up what was probably a lame smile, but she couldn’t manage anything more sincere. The sound of the caller’s voice hung over her like the gray clouds outside. Who’d placed that call? If she’d really seen what she’d claimed, why didn’t she come forward, be more specific? Madeline had a list of people who said they’d witnessed this or that. But once her father had left the church that last day, no one could say for sure where he’d gone.

      Movement at the window caught Madeline’s attention.

      “It’s Pontiff,” Irene said.

      Toby stepped through the door, looking very official in his police-issue raincoat.

      Madeline immediately forgot about the caller. “Chief,” she said expectantly.

      He stood dripping on her doormat as he sent a fleeting glance at Irene, then nodded politely.

      “Did you find anything?” she asked.

      His eyebrows gathered over his brown eyes. “Can I speak to you, Madeline? Privately?”

      Madeline hesitated. She wanted to agree, simply because it’d give her a moment to absorb what he had to say before thinking about how it might affect her stepmother. But she couldn’t pull him into the tiny bathroom, and other than that her office was one big room occupied mostly by a giant printer. She wasn’t about to be so rude as to huddle in a corner and whisper while Irene was at her desk. She worked too hard to make sure others treated her stepmother with respect to ever slight Irene herself. “It’s okay. Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of my mother.”

      He looked as if he might argue, but ultimately must’ve decided against it. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up, but we found some items this morning that could possibly turn into leads.”

      “Possibly?” she echoed, her pulse kicking up. “What, exactly, are we talking about?”

      “Some short strands of hair, for one.”

      “That didn’t belong to my father?”

      “They’re black.”

      She knew what he was going to say next, so she said it for him. “Like Clay’s.”

       It was Clay who drove it there…

      “Yes.”

      “That doesn’t mean anything,” Irene snapped.

      The Montgomerys had been accused so many times, Madeline could scarcely blame Irene for sounding belligerent. But Madeline was afraid her stepmother’s attitude wouldn’t win her any points with Pontiff, so she squelched her own flicker of doubt beneath the love and respect she felt for Clay.

      “Mom’s right. If you look closely, you’ll probably find my hair in that car, too. And Grace’s. And Molly’s. We took the Cadillac to church every week.”

      “Saying you found Clay’s hair in the car is like saying you found Clay’s DNA in the house!” Irene added.

      Madeline recognized the dislike in Toby’s eyes. As if the town didn’t have enough against her stepmother, many Stillwater residents blamed Irene for the downfall of Chief McCormick. Madeline was guessing Toby was one of them. But there was nothing Madeline could do about what had happened nine months ago, nothing anyone could do. Unlike the mystery surrounding her father, the former police chief’s affair with Irene was more than mere accusation; it was common knowledge.

      “The hairs were stuck between the headrest and the seat,” Pontiff clarified.

      “So?” Irene challenged.

      “On the driver’s side.”

      Clay had never been allowed to drive the Cadillac. Madeline had verified that in her own statement to the police.

      “Maybe he took it for a joy ride once,” Irene suggested.

      Pontiff’s lips barely moved when he spoke. “To the quarry, perhaps?”

      “What you found doesn’t prove that.” Irene’s voice had a desperate, panicky edge that made Madeline step closer and take her hand.

      “Clay might’ve been behind the wheel for reasons completely unrelated to my father’s disappearance,” she said.

      “For instance…” Pontiff prodded.

      Madeline quickly came up with a plausible scenario. “To move it so he could get the tractor through.”

      The hair meant nothing. Like the caller today. Like all the accusations that had come before. If her stepbrother was guilty, where was the proof?

      “There’s something else,” Pontiff said.

      Madeline’s stomach tensed with painful anticipation. “What?”

      “A small suitcase.”

      “You found a suitcase? Where was it when we were at the quarry?”

      “It’s more like a small satchel. It was hidden beneath the spare tire in the trunk.”

      “But my father didn’t take any of his clothes.”

      “It wasn’t filled with clothes. It had some rope inside.”