Dead Silence (Stillwater Trilogy #1)(93)
Author: Brenda Novak

His eyes flicked her way, but he seemed determined not to let her change his mind. He repositioned the rifle as if he’d fire anyway. But something she’d said must have gotten through to him. After several long seconds, he pointed the barrel at the ground.

Grace shut her eyes in relief. She would’ve put her arms around him, but the sirens that had begun to wail in the distance came closer and several police cars tore down the drive.

Chief McCormick rushed out of the lead vehicle. He had someone with him, someone Grace couldn’t see because of the glare of flashlights. “Put the gun on the ground and step away from it, Clay,” he said.

Clay looked at Grace. She got the impression he was considering opening fire and going down in a hail of bullets.

She put out a hand to stop him, just in case. But then his lips curved into a mysterious grin and he stepped away from the rifle, exactly as McCormick had directed.

They were going to dig. After so many years of fearing this moment, Grace could hardly believe she was now facing the very thing she’d dreaded for so long. She stood watching as Chief McCormick and Officers Hendricks and Dormer had Clay use the tractor to pull the Chevy out of the way. Stood without moving when they set up perimeter lights. Stood, a numb observer, as they found the shovel and flashlight she’d left lying on the ground and cast her a knowing glance. She didn’t even blink as they brought a few of their own shovels from their cars and started to scoop up the dirt.

Joe followed them around as they worked, begging for a backhoe and nagging them to be as thorough as possible. McCormick agreed to the backhoe, provided they didn’t find anything in the next couple of hours—but Grace knew they wouldn’t need to go to the trouble. The reverend was buried right where they were digging. It wouldn’t take more than a few minutes to find him.

Kennedy had shown up soon after the police. He held Grace’s hand, his shoulder brushing Clay’s as the others swarmed around them. Grace had tried to push Kennedy away from her, to convince him to leave her alone and go back home to his boys. She didn’t want him to be associated with her now that the end was in sight, didn’t want him to witness what the police were about to unearth. She preferred to remember their time together as it was—perfect, beautiful, priceless…and unspoiled by all this.

But he wouldn’t listen. His expression grim, he held his injured hand close to his body as the police began to pile dirt at the edge of the clearing. He didn’t have much to say, but he seemed as resolute in his support of her as Clay was. Menace filled his eyes every time he looked at Joe.

“What’re you staring at?” Joe finally asked. “You should be gettin’ ready to kiss Gracie goodbye because she won’t be putting out for you anymore, buddy.”

A muscle flexed in Kennedy’s jaw, which inspired Grace to cling to him even more tightly. She was afraid he might start another fight. For a mayoral candidate, he’d surprised her more than once. But he didn’t make any threatening moves. “I was wrong to believe you were my friend,” he said.

“What would you call me, if not a friend?” Joe snapped. “I saved your freakin’ life. Or have you forgotten about that?”

“You have a few redeeming qualities. Too bad you don’t have more,” he responded.

“You’re the one who turned on me, Kennedy. You’re the one.” He motioned to get the attention of the others. “Look at him! He supports her even though her shovel’s right here. And he thinks he should be mayor!”

McCormick shot Joe a look that said the vendetta between him and Kennedy wasn’t helping. “We haven’t found anything yet,” he said.

“You will,” Joe told him.

The police chief went back to supervising the digging as Irene came up the drive.

When Grace saw her mother, she felt even worse about what she’d caused. As angry as she’d been, as much as she’d blamed Clay and Irene simply because she had no better target for her disappointment and disillusionment, she knew what her mother and Clay had faced and, in a way, admired their strength. The situation eighteen years ago had spiraled so quickly out of control. After the reverend had fallen and they’d realized he was dead, they’d done what they had to do to keep the family together.

If only McCormick would accept the truth for what it was!

But she sincerely doubted he could. Even now. The community wouldn’t allow it. Not when everyone believed so completely in Barker’s goodness. They’d championed their preacher; learning what he really was would make those who thought they knew him feel like fools. And, as Kennedy had said, it would humiliate and embarrass the Vincellis.

“Grace,” her mother said, walking toward her.

Irene’s ashen face revealed the extent of her fear and concern. Grace didn’t think she’d ever seen her mother looking so old or so fragile.

“I’m sorry, Momma,” she said, but as she gave her mother a hug she saw Jed Fowler near the barn. She was about to ask why he was there, who’d called him, but when he reached them, he looked at Irene in such a way that Grace’s mouth dropped open. She’d never seen him so unguarded, so openly sympathetic. Was he the man her mother had been seeing?

It couldn’t be. Not Jed. Her mother was at least ten years younger and far more attractive.

“Hello,” Grace said to him.

He nodded in acknowledgement but remained silent, his eyes on the work being performed by the police.

Grace edged closer to her mother and lowered her voice. “You could’ve told us you were seeing Jed. There’s nothing wrong with that. Why make it such a secret?”

“What?” Irene followed Grace’s gaze and seemed startled to see him standing there. “I’m not seeing Jed,” she whispered a moment later.

“Then how’d he know—”

“I called him,” Kennedy said. “I figured he might be able to persuade Chief McCormick that you couldn’t have buried the reverend out here, at least not while he was in the barn.”

“That was a nice thought, Kennedy,” Irene said. “And it’s kind of you to be here.”

“I’ll do whatever I can,” he promised.

The polite smile she offered him wilted as Officer Hendricks dragged up a piece of the quilt Grace had been looking for earlier. “I think I’ve found something, Chief.”

Seeing that scrap of fabric nearly buckled Grace’s knees. She might have crumbled to the ground if not for Kennedy. Sensing her panic, he moved behind her and slipped his arms around her waist.