Dead Right (6 page)

“Ignore them.”

She made a face even though he couldn’t see her. “I can’t. You live outside town. I have to mingle with Stil water’s residents every single day.”

“But this investigator can’t be cheap,” he argued.

He had no idea…. “He’s not
that
expensive,” she lied.

“You can afford him?”

She pressed her thumb and forefinger to her closed eyelids. “Of course.”

“Then you’re committed to this.”

Hunter Solozano had asked her the same thing. “Yes.

This is a gamble I have to take. Won’t you be relieved to know the truth? Aren’t you even a
little
curious?”

“I’ve put the past behind me,” he said. “We have to live with what is.”

She started to say she couldn’t face a future of not knowing. Every time she tried, the nightmares came more often. But she hadn’t told anyone about her sleepless nights. She was afraid she’d sound crazy.

“I wish I could do that,” she said. “But I can’t.” At the sound of the door opening, Madeline turned. Irene had just walked in. “Mom’s here,” she told Clay. “Can I cal you later?”

“Sure. In the meantime, try to relax, okay? You’re worrying me.”

“I’m fine,” Madeline said, but she had a headache from being awake most of the night. “Fine” actual y felt a long way off.

“Cal me if you need anything,” he said and hung up without a goodbye. He didn’t waste words. She’d gotten more out of him today than she usual y did, but she didn’t have time to think about that. Her stepmother looked upset.

“Hi, Mom.” She rounded the desk to give Irene a hug.

“Hi, honey.” Irene embraced Madeline rather stiffly, proof that she was as anxious and upset as Madeline was. “Have you heard from Chief Pontiff?”

“No. You?”

An expression of disgust tugged at her stepmother’s lips. “He’d never cal me. Not unless he had another search warrant. Or an arrest warrant.” Although Chief Pontiff seemed less prejudiced against the Montgomerys than some people in Stil water, he wasn’t particularly friendly to them, either. In the absence of hard evidence, he was obviously making an effort to reserve judgment. But Madeline sensed that he believed what everyone else believed—that her stepfamily had caused whatever had happened to Lee Barker.

“It shouldn’t be long now,” she said, to herself as much as Irene.

“Do they know what they’re doing? They should’ve asked Al ie for help.”

“They didn’t?”

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

The Vincel is had gotten to Toby, just as she’d expected.

Otherwise, he would’ve included Al ie. Al ie had more experience in gathering evidence than anyone in Stil water; 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 Vincel is.

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

Madeline didn’t respond. Her stepmother was stil in love with Al ie’s father. That was clear. Not that she saw him anymore. The McCormicks had relocated in an attempt to save their marriage. According to Al ie, 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 Mol y 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 cal him?” Madeline asked.

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

Bending over the desk, she pul ed it toward her. Cal er ID registered a blocked number, but she stil 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 cal er 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.

4

M
adeline told herself that it was just another crank cal.

She’d gotten a lot of them, al promising information they never delivered. But there was something different about this one. The cal er 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 cal er’s voice hung over her like the gray clouds outside. Who’d placed that cal ? If she’d real y 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 cal er. “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 pul 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 bel igerent. 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’l probably find my hair in that car, too. And Grace’s. And Mol y’s. We took the Cadil ac 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 Stil water residents blamed Irene for the downfal 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 chal enged.

“On the
driver’s
side.”

Clay had never been al owed to drive the Cadil ac.

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 cal er today. Like al 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 smal suitcase.”

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

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

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

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

The anxiety grew worse. “What kind of rope?”

“Unfortunately, it’s ordinary rope that you can buy at any hardware store.”

“Is there anything unique about it? Anything that might help us figure out where it came from?”

“Not that I can see.”

Disappointment weighed heavily. “So…do you think it was used to bind my father?” Madeline hated the vision her words evoked but refused to let fear of what her father might’ve experienced stop her from asking difficult questions. “That whatever happened to him was premeditated?”

Pontiff fidgeted uncomfortably. “I don’t think the rope was used on your father,” he said. “That wasn’t the only thing in the bag.”

Madeline exchanged a wary glance with Irene. “Tel us.”

He lowered his voice, until she could scarcely make out the words. “There was also a…dildo.”

Feeling as if he’d just tied thirty-pound weights to each of her limbs, Madeline released Irene’s hand. “A
what?
”

Chief Pontiff had turned bright red. “A—a sex toy, you know, a dildo.”

“What would a dildo be doing in my father’s trunk?” she nearly shouted.

His blush deepened. “I have no idea. But I’m hoping we can extract some DNA from it.”

Irene’s hand clutched her chest. “After al this time?”

Madeline could tel Pontiff didn’t like Irene enough to let her put him on the spot. But since she was present, he was trying to maintain a certain level of professionalism. “The dildo itself was inside a Ziploc bag that was sealed. If it—”

he cleared his throat “—if it wasn’t washed before it went into that bag, we might have a chance.”

Irene turned a shade paler. “What wil that tel us?”

“Maybe there’s a victim out there somewhere, connected with another case—a case that might have witnesses or information that could help us. Chances are slim that we’l be able to get a sample from the…object, and even slimmer that we’l be able to tie it to someone, but we need to gather whatever we can.”

Irene shook her head. “But the connection you’re looking for could be clear across the country. Lee must’ve picked up a hitchhiker on his way home, some guy who shoved that stuff in the trunk before sinking the car.”

She’d often postulated that a drifter or hitchhiker had been involved. But no one had reported seeing any strangers the day Madeline’s father went missing. And strangers definitely stood out in a town where everyone knew everyone else and viewed the unfamiliar with a measure of distrust.

Pontiff studied his shoes. “We found something else in the suitcase, too,” he said in a resigned manner.

It
couldn’t
get worse…. Could it?

“What?” Madeline asked as Irene echoed the same question.

He lifted his gaze, and a muscle flexed in his cheek.

“Three pairs of panties. They look like they came from a girl of eleven or twelve.”

Suddenly, Madeline felt dizzy. The thought of a rope, a dildo and girls’ panties hidden together—anywhere—made her il . No doubt they affected Chief Pontiff the same way.

He had three children—al of them daughters.

“So the man who kil ed my father was a pedophile?” she gasped.

“That’s the way it appears.”

But how did someone like that circulate among them, going so far as to murder the town’s spiritual leader—and get away with it? Stil water typical y had little or no crime.

There were only fifteen hundred residents—and not one convicted sex offender.

Col ecting her splintered thoughts, Madeline touched Pontiff’s arm. “Toby.” For a moment, he wasn’t the chief of police to her. He was her friend’s husband, a boy she’d known her whole life, a caring adult like herself. “What if my father was counseling a man with…with unacceptable sexual compulsions. You know how confessions are supposed to be private, but some things have to be reported? Maybe my father was going to turn in this…this pathetic individual and was kil ed because of it.”

“That’s crossed my mind,” he admitted.

“If it was someone he knew wel , maybe even trusted and respected, think of the resulting embarrassment.”

“Someone like that might go to great lengths to avoid discovery.”

“Exactly. So are you planning to question al the men in my father’s congregation?” This had been done before, but now they had reason to look closer.

“I might. Right now, I need the two of you to come to the station with me.”

“For what?” Irene cried.

“To see if you recognize the suitcase or the panties. We need to figure out who they might’ve belonged to.”

“You don’t think they could be
mine,
” Madeline said.

When Irene slipped one arm around her, she realized her voice had gone shril , but the idea of her panties, or those of anyone else she knew, being in that suitcase was too horrible to contemplate.

“I have no idea,” Pontiff said. “But I’d like to find out. And it makes sense to begin with the family.”