Dead Silence (Stillwater Trilogy #1)(23)
Author: Brenda Novak

Kennedy had feared this was coming. Although Joe had never before held the incident at the Yocona River over his head—which was one thing Kennedy had always admired about him—Kennedy couldn’t help feeling obligated to Joe in ways he wasn’t obligated to anyone else.

But the thought of what it would do to Grace still made him pause. “I can’t. I don’t have that authority.”

Joe grimaced. “We both know your father owns this town. Lately he’s been turning everything over to you. Talk to McCormick. Make him do something.”

Joe had his better moments. He was a funny drunk and would do almost anything for his friends. But he had a mean streak the others didn’t possess and a less-than-impressive track record. He’d been divorced from the same woman twice and, if not for his parents, probably wouldn’t have a job. His folks owned Stillwater Road & Gravel just north of town. They let Joe pretend to manage it for them, but he spent most of his time hanging out, having lunch with the gang, chasing women or bugging Kennedy to lend him more money.

“Why?” Kennedy asked.

“Because a crime’s been committed!”

“We don’t know that.” Kennedy suspected Grace had already paid a heavy price for that night, whether whatever had happened was her fault or not. And even though he had to admit that Joe might be right about her family, he felt strangely reluctant to pursue it.

“Why not make sure?” Joe pressed. “Fix it so I can take a backhoe to the farm and dig around. If there’s a body there, I’ll find it.”

“The police searched the farm. They found nothing to warrant the use of a backhoe.”

“Come on! That was before old man Jenkins retired, and you know as well as I do that Jenkins couldn’t find his own ass without a guide. We had the equivalent of Barney Fife running the investigation.”

“Regardless, McCormick would need another warrant, which wouldn’t be easy to obtain. Not when the police have already been given one shot. This may come as news to you, but judges don’t take invading people’s privacy lightly,” Kennedy said. “And Clay’s like a junkyard dog. You know that. He isn’t going to give his permission.”

“Judge Reynolds would listen to you.”

Kennedy recalled how Joe had acted at the pizza parlor. “This is not about obtaining justice for your uncle, is it?”

“No,” he said with a scowl.

“Seems to me you’re more concerned with hurting Grace than anything else.”

“You mean Grinding Gracie?” Joe chuckled as though she wasn’t worthy of so much attention. “That’s bullshit. Why would I want to hurt her?”

“I don’t know. But if that’s what you’re after—” Kennedy toyed with the glass paperweight that had been a gift from his staff at Christmas “—what you did in high school was enough.”

“Screw you,” Joe said, jumping to his feet. “I didn’t do anything to Grace in high school!”

The telephone rang. Kennedy raised a hand to indicate he’d be a minute and took the call, hoping the interruption would ease the tension in the room. But Joe simply cursed and started for the door.

“Some friend you are,” he muttered. Kennedy waited for him to add, “You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me.” But he didn’t. He disappeared down the hall.

Kennedy wanted to go after him. He wanted to tell him to forget the past and get on with his life—and let Grace do the same. But Camille was on the other end of the line, saying, “Hello? Kennedy? Are you there?”

Dropping his head in one hand, he massaged his temples. He could sense from the edge in his mother’s voice that something was wrong. “I’m here,” he said. “What is it?”

“You need to talk to your son.”

He immediately knew she didn’t mean Heath. “What’s Teddy done this time?”

“He went over to Grace Montgomery’s just before noon.”

“We already talked about this. I gave my permission for him to mow her lawn.”

“But I told him to be back an hour ago.”

Kennedy checked his watch. “Maybe he lost track of the time.”

“That’s no excuse. How can I let him leave the house if he can’t obey a simple rule like ‘be back by two’?”

His mother had a point. Teddy needed to be trustworthy. “Right,” Kennedy said. “I’ll talk to him tonight, okay? See what’s going on.”

“No, you should go over there right now. It’s been three hours, Kennedy. I don’t like it. Grace is not a nice person.”

“I don’t think she’s half as bad as you imagine. She’s an assistant district attorney, Mom. And from what I hear, she’s a damn good one.”

“I don’t care if she is. You know she wasn’t exactly an exemplary citizen when she lived here before. Are you willing to risk something happening to Teddy?”

She’d hit him in his most vulnerable spot. After losing Raelynn, he wasn’t about to take anything for granted. “Of course not.” He swallowed a sigh. “I’ll go there right now.” Even if it made him late for his meeting.

“You do that. And tell Teddy to get home.”

Kennedy sidestepped making a commitment. “I’ll call you back.”

No one answered the door at Grace’s, so Kennedy peered in the windows. It looked as though she’d made herself at home. The living room had a circular rug with an overstuffed couch and chair, a magazine table, a coffee table and an old-fashioned secretary in the corner. He could see a mahogany table and chairs through an opening that led into the dining room, and leather sofas in the family room beyond that. The furniture seemed to be a mix of old and new—nothing terribly fancy—and yet she’d created a combination that suggested she had good taste.

“Anyone home?” he called, and knocked again.

There was no response, although her BMW was in the garage. He’d checked before coming to the door.

Feeling his first shiver of alarm, he circled the house, hoping he could get in through the back. But as soon as he opened the gate, he heard a woman’s voice—and stopped.

Was it Grace?

Standing behind the poplar trees, which shielded him from view, he peered through the branches.

It was her, all right. And Teddy was with her. But she wasn’t doing anything diabolical to him. They were sitting at a patio table, reading a book.