Dead Giveaway (Stillwater Trilogy #2)(65)
Author: Brenda Novak

"He said they all knew about it," Joe clarified. "All the Montgomerys. Beth Ann already told me that."

They’d been citing Beth Ann’s testimony as the case breaker, but Dale doubted she was telling the truth. Clay might be dangerous, but he wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t tell Beth Ann what she claimed he had. But now that she’d made her statement, the whole town had proclaimed it as gospel–the truth at last–and made her a minicelebrity. She’d become a pariah if she changed her story.

She wasn’t the most credible witness in the world. But her testimony fit the circumstantial evidence and selective snippets of testimony taken from several other witnesses. Thanks to the active involvement of Stillwater’s most influential citizens and the exchange of a few favors, that might be enough to get a conviction.

Dale simply wanted to forget about Barker, and he believed the only way to do that was to try the most likely culprit. In the best-case scenario, Clay would be acquitted and could never be charged with Barker’s murder again. In the worst, Clay would go to prison. If that happened, Irene would need a strong male figure in her life. As self-serving as that was, Dale couldn’t overlook it.

He moved through the crowd, smiling, shaking hands and nodding as he accepted congratulations all around. Everyone acted as if the trial was already over and Clay had been convicted. But Dale knew Allie was right. They didn’t have much of a case. This would be a battle of political power over due process.

"We’ve got him now…. It’s about damn time…. There’s nothing wrong with being sure on something like this. A man’s future is at stake…. The point is he didn’t get away with it."

Most of the time, Dale didn’t even bother looking up to see who was talking. "What a damn mess," he muttered to himself, then felt his wife’s hand on his arm.

"Is something wrong, dear?" she asked in concern.

"No, nothing," he replied. They spoke about the judge being the mayor’s uncle, and the fact that Hendricks’s father sat on the County Board of Supervisors, both of which would help the prosecution. Then, after Dale reassured Evelyn a second time that he was fine, she left to attend her book group.

He excused himself as soon as she was gone. Once he’d climbed into his squad car and closed the door, he called Irene.

"Irene, honey, I’m sorry," he said when she answered. "There was nothing I could do about Clay. You know that, don’t you?"

"You didn’t even warn me," she said.

He cringed at the tears in her voice. "You told me not to call you anymore. I was trying to honor your wishes."

"By arresting my son?"

He ran a hand over the whiskers on his chin. In all the excitement, he’d forgotten to shave this morning. "I didn’t want to arrest him. I’ve tried to protect you, and him. It’s just…since Grace moved back, the Vincellis have been buzzing like a hornet’s nest–"

"Don’t give me that," she said. "This isn’t because of Grace. It’s because of Allie. You’re punishing my son for not staying away from your daughter."

He didn’t want Clay and Allie together, but he couldn’t admit it to her. "That’s not true."

"What can I do?" she cried. "How can I stop this?"

Dale had reached the outskirts of town, where he felt more secure. He drove down a deserted country road, then cut the engine. "Nothing, babe. Nothing at all."

"I’ll come back to you if that’ll help."

"I wish it was that easy."

"You want me, don’t you?"

So badly, he ached inside. Only she could satisfy him. But he couldn’t help Clay. It was up to the attorneys now. "I want you," he said. "But I can’t let Clay out of jail. I’m not the one who’s running this show. It’s the mayor and Supervisor Hendricks, honey."

She was openly sobbing now. "What am I going to do?"

"Stand by him," he said. "The D.A. doesn’t have much of a case. It’s all circumstantial."

She sniffed. "Do you think he’ll get off?"

"Maybe," he said, hedging because, now that things had gone so far, he had no idea what might happen. Grace, or whoever handled Clay’s defense, would no doubt fight to have the trial moved to a different location, where his opponents didn’t have so much control. But he doubted she’d succeed. If Grace argued that there was significant prejudice against her brother, the prosecution would point to the fact that they’d waited nearly twenty years to charge him. That certainly didn’t make them appear overeager.

Irene’s voice turned to a hopeful whisper. "Do you still love me?"

As much as Irene liked to talk about the possibility, he knew he’d never leave his wife. But, in a way, he did love her. If he’d met her in another time, another place, if he was a younger man…"Yes. You know that. I’ll do anything I can for you, okay? I’ll try to get you anything you need."

"I need you. I can’t go through this alone."

She made him feel so strong and capable. He knew he was being silly, acting like he didn’t have any sense, but Lord, was he addicted to her. "I’ll be there for you."

"But we shouldn’t see each other."

"You just said you need me."

"I do."

There was a long pause. Surely she wouldn’t change her mind again.

"One battle at a time, right?" she eventually said.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "One battle at a time," he replied. Then he called the florist in Corinth and ordered Irene a dozen long-stemmed red roses.

"What would you like on the card?" the woman asked.

"I can’t wait to be with you," he said. "Call me when you’re ready."

Allie wasn’t sure what to expect when she arrived at the beautiful old Georgian where Grace lived. Set off the highway south of town, it was the only historic building in Stillwater besides the old post office. The yard was large and well groomed, with lots of mature trees and a fountain. Stepping stones passed through a rose-covered trellis and went around to the back of the house, and a tree swing that had been there since Allie was in high school hung from a giant oak on the side. In front, three wide steps led to a deep veranda that was partially covered with wisteria vines.

Allie wondered what it was like to have grown up in such poverty and then to have married so rich. Grace seemed happy. But–Allie thought of Clay in jail–the taint of some things never went away.

As she crossed the porch, Allie noticed two pairs of small rubber boots at the far end of the veranda near a single glass door that probably led to a bathroom or mudroom. But it was the carved, double doors in front of her that opened when she rang the bell.