Dead Right (Stillwater Trilogy #3)(81)
Author: Brenda Novak

But he didn’t have to tell her. They’d already reached his computer alcove; she could see it lying on the desk.

It was a dildo, grotesque in its enormous size but lifelike in its shape and imitation flesh—exactly like the one found in the trunk of the family car.

“Cool, huh?” Joe said.

Madeline broke out in a cold sweat as the caller’s voice again echoed in her head: Spread your legs for me, okay, baby?

Distantly, she heard the front door open and close. Then Joe said, “Hey, who the hell are you? And what makes you think you can just walk into my house?”

But she couldn’t turn away. Not until she felt Hunter’s hand on the small of her back, urging her to move. “Go to the car,” he said gently. “I’ll bring it with me.”

The next morning, Hunter watched the sun begin to peek through the blinds in Madeline’s bedroom. She was warm and pliant and gloriously naked, but he hadn’t made love to her since they’d come home. The menace of what that package contained had been too dark. He’d simply held her for the rest of the night, and now that she was finally sleeping, he didn’t want to wake her.

Getting carefully out of bed, he dressed as silently as possible and went downstairs, where he found the keys to the car and let himself out. The break-in. The dildo. If Barker had been molesting girls, as Hunter now believed, he’d been killed because of it, so whoever was tormenting Madeline couldn’t be him. If Irene had killed Barker and then enlisted her family’s help in covering it up, it couldn’t be the Montgomerys. Otherwise, this would expose their motive, which threatened to expose their culpability. So who else was there?

He was missing something, something important and potentially dangerous to Madeline. And he knew only one person who could tell him what that might be.

Ray sat in the far corner of the diner. He’d come to town early so he could drive by Madeline’s office. He was eager to see if the package he’d left her last night was still out front. He could hardly wait for her to get it—and had felt a definite thrill when he’d found it gone. Deciding to celebrate by enjoying some eggs and ham at Two Sisters, he’d been smiling to himself ever since, relishing what she must’ve thought and felt when she pulled out that gigantic dildo and realized it was the same as the one in Barker’s Caddy.

Ray was staring at his plate, trying not to chuckle out loud, when Walt Eastman slid into the booth opposite him.

“You okay, buddy?” his friend asked in concern.

Ray’s levity evaporated. Glancing up, he held his fork halfway to his mouth. “I’m fine,” he said cautiously. “Why?”

“I know you were close to Bubba.”

“Oh, right,” he mumbled. “It was a real tragedy.” In his preoccupation with Madeline, Ray had almost forgotten about Bubba. It wasn’t a memory he cherished. Maybe Barker could kill without compunction—Ray knew the reverend had run Katie down; he could remember Barker telling him with absolute certainty that she’d never talk and that was well before there’d been any news of the accident. But Ray didn’t have the stomach for murder. In order to get what he wanted from Madeline, he knew he’d have to resort to it eventually. But that was later. Hopefully, much later. If a guy was smart, he could keep a captive in the mountains for a long time, couldn’t he? He’d make it so she could never get away. And who’d hear her scream? She’d get used to having him visit, get used to the games he wanted to play. Soon she’d perform for him just like a little girl.

And when he had to kill her, it’d be easier up there. He’d have plenty of privacy and lots of forest…

“And then to have this private investigator going around asking questions about Rose Lee,” Walt said, shaking his head. “If you ask me, he’s going too far, implying there might be something strange about her death.”

Ray set down his fork. “What’s he saying about Rose?”

Walt leaned closer and lowered his voice. “You haven’t heard?”

Ray waited instead of answering, and Walt started in, as Ray knew he would. No one loved gossip as much as Walt. “Word has it he thinks Barker was a pedophile. Can you believe it? The reverend? The Vincellis are going to flip when they hear this. Elaine considers herself a pillar of the community. She’s always been proud of her brother’s reputation.”

“Who told you?” Ray’s heart thumped in his chest.

“Mike Metzger was at the bar last night, claiming he knew Barker was twisted all along. Said this Hunter fella agrees, that he believes Barker was worse than an adulterer.”

“What’s worse than an adulterer?”

“A ra**st? A pedophile? He must think that suitcase in the Cadillac belonged to him.”

“He isn’t suggesting Barker molested Rose?” The fear was back, the same cloying panic that had driven him to kill Bubba. If the police found out about Barker and Rose, they’d start asking questions about him. Then he might say the wrong thing, fail a lie detector test, unwittingly give away some damning detail. Or, if they really started searching for evidence, the police might be able to prove he was as guilty as Barker, that he’d essentially sold his daughter for rent and groceries—and then participated.

God, there’d been pictures of him abusing Katie in the worst possible ways, even a signed confession. Barker had demanded it, or he wouldn’t let Ray continue with their sessions. He’d said Ray had to write everything down. That way, if Ray ever told a soul about their private indulgences, Barker would take the confession to the police and blame the whole thing on him.

Ray had been too addicted to deny him. And now he had no idea where that confession was. It wasn’t among the crap he’d stolen from Madeline’s basement. That was for darn sure. He’d scanned every piece of paper, torn the binding out of every book.

“That’s my guess,” Eastman was saying. “He’s been asking how much time they spent together. Whether or not you were around. What happened to your relationship with Barker there at the end.”

“He wouldn’t pay me enough for my work, that’s what,” Ray said indignantly. And it was partially true. Barker wanted to use Rose Lee, but he didn’t want to pay for her anymore. He’d been doing it too long, had begun to feel entitled. Then Eliza had found some of the magazines Ray had gotten for Barker, and the reverend knew she was watching him closely, so he went back to being the perfect pastor. For a while. But soon after that she shot herself, or Barker shot her—Ray didn’t know which—then he married Irene, and the opportunity presented itself again.