Dead Right

“My stepbrother might seem dark and remote to you, to lots of people, but he’d sacrifice his own life before he’d ever hurt a child.”

Sympathy softened Pontiff’s features. “Folks aren’t always what they seem, Maddy.”

Madeline wouldn’t let it go. “I’d bet my own life that he’d never touch a child in an inappropriate manner,” she said fiercely. “He’s angry and he’s determined and he’s—” she searched for the right word to describe her stepbrother “—tough. But he’s not sick.”

“He had a hard childhood,” Pontiff said gently. “That can scar a person.”

It was the first time she’d heard Toby speak with any compassion for Clay. Clay was too capable, too strong to evoke sympathy from most people, despite his background.

“He has his scars,” she said. “But he’s always protected those who are smaller, weaker and more vulnerable than himself. Surely you’ve seen how much his stepdaughter adores him.”

Pontiff put his hand over hers. “The fact that he has a stepdaughter means I can’t take your word for what Clay is or isn’t, Maddy. I have to look at the facts. You understand.”

What she understood was that it was time to exonerate Clay and expose the real killer. Maybe the facts hadn’t stood in his favor before. But she was more certain than ever that now they would. And if the police weren’t capable of solving the case, she’d make sure Hunter Solozano did the job for them.

Madeline sat in the police station with her stepmother, waiting for Grace to arrive. The rain had finally stopped, but the cloud-darkened sky threatened more bad weather.

The heater rattled as it pumped out hot air. Officer Radcliffe, who stood at the filing cabinet in the corner, bore a sheen of sweat on his forehead—proof that the heater was working. But Madeline couldn’t get warm. Not since she’d seen what the police had found in her father’s trunk.

“Are you sure, Maddy?” Irene whispered.

Her tongue felt thick and unwieldy, but she forced it to work. “I’m sure.”

“But I don’t remember them. And lots of young girls wore bikini underwear.”

It wasn’t the fact that they were bikinis that made them identifiable; it was the picture of an island with a monkey climbing a palm tree on the back. Madeline suspected Irene recognized them, too. Her stepmother didn’t want to face what it might mean, preferred to think they were dealing with some kind of coincidence or mistake. “I’m positive.”

She’d meant to speak gently, but she couldn’t conceal her impatience. Irene was getting older and didn’t have the coping skills she’d once possessed. But Madeline was so exhausted and confused, she lacked the reserves to shelter her right now.

Why were Grace’s first pair of bikini underwear—the ones Madeline had bought her for Christmas—in a strange suitcase with some rope and a dildo? Grace was only thirteen when that car went missing.

“If you’re sure about the…the panties, there’s no need to have Grace come down here,” Irene said.

“Mom, please,” Madeline snapped.

Chief Pontiff looked up from his desk and met Madeline’s eyes. When she scowled and turned away, he bent over his work again, and she was grateful to him for giving her some space instead of getting up to offer her a drink or something. She knew he’d seen the instant recognition on her face as he’d carefully arranged each item for her view.

It wasn’t just the panties that upset her. The dildo had been there, too, grotesque in its size.

She dropped her head in her hands. The possibility that a sexual predator had had any contact with Grace at the age she’d been when she was wearing those panties sickened Madeline.

“God help us,” she whispered and began to rub her temples. Her head hurt, but not as badly as her heart. She knew Grace had problems as a teenager. Had they started because she’d been molested—or worse, raped—by some demented creep?

No. She would’ve said something…

But deep down Madeline knew that wasn’t true. Girls who’d been molested were often too ashamed afterwards to reveal their terrible secret.

“Whoever it was better not have touched her,” she muttered.

Her stepmother jumped to her feet. “I want to call Clay.”

Startled, Madeline blinked. “You want him to see this?” She waved at the panties on the table. The giant dildo sat front and center. Not that Madeline could look at it.

“I—I need him,” Irene said.

Her slightly hysterical tone made Madeline feel guilty for being so impatient a moment before. She owed her stepmother more sensitivity than she’d just shown her. Irene was the one who’d provided the love and attention Madeline had needed as a young teen. Madeline couldn’t imagine what life would’ve been like without her.

“We’re okay,” she whispered, hoping to comfort her. “We can take care of this ourselves, right?”

“No.” Irene shook her head adamantly.

“But you know Clay. He’ll go nuts if he sees this. And we wouldn’t want to humiliate Grace any more than necessary. Obviously, if something terrible happened, she chose not to share it with us. It won’t be easy for her to walk in here, especially with an audience, and admit it now.”

“Let’s not make her come,” Irene said, gripping Madeline’s arm.

Chief Pontiff glanced up again, and Madeline knew, without his having to say a word that he’d insist on it. He required Grace to confirm what Madeline had, after several shocked minutes, told him. “I’m afraid it’s important.”

“Then I need Clay,” her stepmother said. “Grace will need him, too.”

“I’d rather save him this,” Madeline argued, but it was too late. Irene had hurried over to one of the empty desks and helped herself to a phone.

Madeline considered asking her to hang up but was actually relieved that Clay would be joining them. At the very least, maybe he’d take care of Irene until Madeline could come to grips with all of this.

The door opened and Grace’s husband, Kennedy Archer, walked in, holding her hand. He had on one of the tailored suits he wore to work, while Grace was dressed more casually in jeans, Ugg boots and an attractive sweater. A pair of sunglasses hid her eyes despite the season and the inclement weather.

She’s marshalling her defenses. She knows something’s up. Suddenly, Madeline was very reluctant to see what would happen next.

Kennedy said a brief hello, although his cautious manner with Grace revealed his concern. Grace nodded in their direction but said nothing.

“Kennedy, Grace. Thanks for coming down.” Pontiff had walked over the second he saw them and was now shaking hands with Kennedy. He offered Grace his hand as well, but she’d caught sight of the articles on the paper-lined table and didn’t respond.

“What’s the problem?” Kennedy asked, his voice low and guarded.

Pontiff explained that these items had been found in the Cadillac as he motioned them closer. Grace allowed her husband to lead her, but her skin looked taut across her elegant bones.

After a moment, she swayed as if she might pass out, and Madeline stepped up to take her hand. Irene remained near the door, muttering something about Clay.

“Do you recognize any of these objects?” Chief Pontiff asked.

Kennedy went rigid. “Grace?” he murmured, and there was a world of intimacy and love in the way he said her name.

She shook her head as Pontiff pointed at the suitcase. She did the same when he indicated the dildo, the rope and the panties. But when he reached the ones with the monkey, she finally spoke. “Those were mine.”

Panic crowded so close Grace could hardly breathe. She’d known this would be agonizing. But she’d had no idea how much worse it’d be with Madeline looking on. Chief Pontiff watched, too, his expression shuttered. Even Officer Radcliffe, who stood off to the side pretending to file, was taking careful note.

Their future depended on the next few minutes—and her ability to be convincing even though she was drowning in a sea of painful memories.

“Do you know how your panties came to be in the trunk of the Cadillac?” Pontiff asked.