Dead Right

“From where?”

“California.”

“But…it’s been so many years since Dad went missing, Maddy.”

“I know. That’s why I did it.” Sophie followed her as she hurried to the bathroom. She needed to finish her hair and makeup and head over to the office. She couldn’t avoid work this morning. She would sit down and write the article she should’ve written yesterday—and she’d finish it before the paper had to go to press. Maybe her resolve had come a little late, but she was Stillwater’s only official reporter. She’d reveal the unbiased details of the Cadillac’s discovery, regardless of her personal connection.

“But Allie used to be a cold case detective,” Grace said. “If she couldn’t find anything, aren’t you afraid hiring someone else will be a waste of time and money?”

Madeline didn’t want to talk about Allie—not with Grace. Once Allie had begun to feel romantic interest in Clay, she’d no longer seemed fully committed to the investigation. Had she been afraid of what she might find if she really looked? Considering what everyone else believed, probably. Madeline doubted Allie was still worried about that now that she knew Clay as well as she did. But they both seemed determined to move forward and not dwell on the past.

They could move forward, Madeline thought. They didn’t feel the same responsibility to Lee Barker that she did. Allie’s father had had his own problems before he moved away, problems that had included an affair with Irene. But Chief McCormick was still part of Allie’s life. How could Allie understand what it would be like not to know where he was or even whether he was alive? And Clay had only lived with Lee for three years.

“Before she could dig too deep, her father fired her for taking Clay’s side,” Madeline said, trying to smooth over the issue. If she started pointing fingers at others for not doing enough, she knew Grace would feel guilty by association. And Grace had always had her own demons to deal with. It wasn’t until she came home eighteen months ago that she’d had much of a relationship with her family. Before that, she’d been emotionally remote and completely immersed in her work as an assistant district attorney in Jackson.

The past had been difficult for them all.

“She would’ve continued to dig,” Grace said. “She just didn’t find anything that gave her any indication of where Dad might’ve gone.”

“Or who might’ve harmed him,” Madeline added.

“Or who might’ve harmed him,” she conceded.

Madeline pulled her hair back so she could apply concealer to the dark circles that came from a week’s worth of restless nights. “It’s something I’ve got to do.”

“This might not solve anything,” Grace said again.

“I know, but seeing the Cadillac lifted out of the quarry made me sick.” She paused, her hand on the blush she was going to apply next. “I felt as if I’ve let my father down by not doing more. I’ve let myself down, too. Even you and Clay, Grace. They almost prosecuted Clay last summer, for murder.”

“I don’t think they’ll go after him again,” Grace argued. “Last year, it was political pressure that caused all the trouble. The Vincellis have backed off since then.”

“My aunt and uncle, maybe. Not my cousins. You saw them at the quarry.”

“Joe and Roger are vultures. We’re safe as long as we’re still moving.”

“They have a lot of powerful friends.”

“But there’s no solid evidence. There never has been. Clay’s innocent.”

Finished with the blush, Madeline smeared some brown eye shadow on her eyelids. “The car’s going to stir it all up again,” she said. “Don’t you think it’s better to get to the bottom of what happened?”

The silence stretched, and a few seconds became half a minute.

“Is something wrong?” Madeline finally asked.

“No, of course not,” Grace said. “Believe me, I’d like to know what happened, too. But not at any cost.”

“We’re talking about dollars. What are dollars compared to peace of mind?” Dropping the eye shadow into her makeup bag, Madeline dug around for her mascara.

“Can you really afford him?” There was concern in Grace’s voice.

“I’ll keep him on as long as I can.” Madeline heard a clock ticking somewhere in her subconscious, and it made her frantic. She only hoped Hunter found her some answers before she had a nervous breakdown or was living out on the street.

“Do you need help with his bill?”

It was a generous offer. But Madeline didn’t expect her stepsister to finance an investigation she couldn’t welcome. Mr. Solozano would, in all likelihood, focus on Grace and the mother and brother she loved so dearly—at least in the beginning, before he got beyond the circumstantial evidence that led everyone else to blame the Montgomerys.

“No. But thanks.” She glanced at her watch. It was nearly nine. “I’d better go.”

“Maybe you should discuss this with Clay,” Grace said.

“I’m sure Mr. Solozano has already purchased his plane ticket.”

“Where will he be staying?”

“Here, in the guest house.”

“You don’t even know him! Is that a good idea?”

“It’ll be fine,” Madeline said.

“What’s wrong with having him stay at the Blue Ribbon Motel?”

“He’s from L.A.”

“So?”

Madeline wasn’t about to stick Hunter Solozano in the aging motel located next to a trailer park of ramshackle mobile homes. Besides giving him something else to look down his nose at, it’d cost her more money, and Madeline sort of liked the idea of having her P.I. so close. Then she could be sure he was working and not watching pay-per-view at her expense. “He comes highly recommended.”

“Maddy—”

“After I meet him, if I think there’s any threat, I’ll make some adjustments,” she interrupted.

“O-kay,” Grace said, but her reluctance was evident in the way she drew out the word. “And you really think this guy will make a difference?”

“I’m sure of it. Talk to you later.” As Madeline disconnected, she realized that she was putting an inordinate amount of trust in Hunter. She could be setting herself up for a big disappointment. But every investigator who’d recommended him had done so in the most glowing terms. And she needed to believe he would bring her resolution at last.

It was odd, though. Even thoughts of ultimate success made Madeline nervous. She supposed, deep down, she was more terrified of the truth than she’d ever wanted to admit. Even to herself. She knew almost everyone in town, so chances were good she’d also know her father’s murderer.

Clay stared out his kitchen window at the barn where it had all started. The sun peeked from behind the clouds, giving the hulking structure a long, ominous shadow that stretched across the yard, reaching almost to the chicken coop.

Unfortunately, the shadow of the man they’d buried behind it stretched even farther. Clay had been only sixteen the night everything went wrong. Yet those events continued to haunt him.

Twenty damn years…And he knew that what had happened would still bother him after sixty years.

Shaking his head, he let his eyes shift to the front of the barn. After his sisters had left for college and his mother had moved to town, he’d converted the stables that had once housed the reverend’s mean horse and a couple of boarder horses into a large open area where he could restore antique cars. But the section that had once been Lee Barker’s office sat dark and empty. Clay had no plans to use that space; he never even went in there. It evoked too many memories of the man he hated more than he’d ever hated anyone.

Clay clenched his jaw as he imagined his stepfather standing at the window of that office, watching carefully to be sure the farm chores were done to his specifications. Once Irene had married the reverend, Clay had become little more than a slave. But what Barker had done to Grace was far worse…