Authors: Brenda Novak
She'd seen a copy of an old family photo in the file, but it was blurry and over a quarter of a century old. "As I explained to your wife, I'm from Stillwater, a little town in--"
"I know where you're from," he said. "And I know why you're calling. But I don't think I'll be able to help you. My wife said you have a few questions regarding the disappearance of some man I've never met."
Allie heard a trace of resentment in those last four words, beneath a thin veneer of good humor. "Not
some
man, Mr. Montgomery," she clarified. "We're talking about your ex-wife's second husband."
"I'm afraid I never knew him. I haven't spoken to Irene since I left."
"Not once?"
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"Not once."
"So you don't know that your family's suffered through a great deal of suspicion and doubt concerning the disappearance of Lee Barker?"
"No, I don't. What I do know is that Irene isn't the kind of person who'd harm anyone.
That's all I can tell you. I'm sorry if you were hoping otherwise."
"I wasn't hoping otherwise, Mr. Montgomery. I'm just searching for the facts."
"Isn't it a bit late for an investigation?" he asked.
"Excuse me?"
"Surely after nineteen years--"
"Nineteen years?" Allie interrupted, her breath lodged in her throat.
Silence fell over the line as if he'd suddenly realized his blunder, then he said, "It's been that long since I left."
"But you moved away when Clay was only ten years old." She could've used the actual date instead of Clay's age, but she wanted to remind Lucas of the little boy he'd abandoned.
"I'm not positive about that."
"You don't remember how old your son was?"
"Not exactly."
"It's been twenty-five years. A sixteen-year-old boy is quite different from a ten-year-old."
"Guess I lost count."
"So it's merely a coincidence that the nineteen years you just mentioned correlates perfectly with the length of time Reverend Barker's been gone?"
"I told you, I don't know anything about Reverend Barker!"
"Then it's even more amazing that you guessed the year he went missing, isn't it?"
There was a slight pause. "Listen, you--you're heading down the wrong road," he said. It was easy to tell that she'd managed to rattle him. "Like I said, Irene wouldn't hurt anybody. She's a good woman."
Yet he'd turned his back on her....
"Is it possible you know more than you're saying, Mr. Montgomery?"
"Are you calling me a liar?" he retorted.
For the first time, Allie wondered if he could've had something to do with Barker's disappearance. Could he have come back, found another man in his place, fought with that man and possibly killed him? That would certainly explain why Lucas Montgomery had made himself scarce for so long.
The thought came as a relief to Allie. She would much rather it was Clay's father than Clay.
"I'm just doing my job," she replied. "Can you tell me where you were the night the reverend disappeared?"
"Yes. I have an airtight alibi. So don't go trying to pin his death on me."
Allie's hand tightened on the receiver. "I didn't say he was dead."
No response.
"Mr. Montgomery?"
"After so long, I think it's safe to make that assumption, don't you?" he said. "Anyway, I've been in Alaska for twenty years, and you can't prove I ever left. No airplane tickets. No train tickets. No gas receipts."
"I see you've been watching your share of
Forensic Files
."
"I've sat through a few."
"So you've never been back to see your children?"
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Silence.
"Do you need me to speak up?" she asked.
"I heard you."
"And?"
"I haven't been back, okay?"
"Well, as far as I'm concerned, that's as much of a crime as anything else." She had no business passing judgment on him. But her own experience with Sam's rejection of Whitney and what she'd sensed in Clay last night put her too close to the situation.
"Go to hell," he said and hung up.
Allie returned the phone to its cradle. She hadn't handled that call as professionally as she should have. But she'd caught him lying to her. She was positive of it. Now she just needed to figure out why.
Whitney looked up at her. "Was that Daddy, Mommy?"
"No," she said. "It was someone a lot like him."
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8
R
everend Portenski gripped the sides of the pulpit as he gave his weekly sermon, enjoying his own message--until he saw Clay Montgomery slip into the back of the church. The man scarcely made a sound as he came in and sat several rows behind everyone else--but it took only one person to notice him. Then the rumble of voices rose, and heads began to turn. Clay tolerated the attention with more dignity than he was ever credited with possessing. He stared straight ahead and ignored what was going on around him. But that didn't mean he liked it. Who would?
After a slight nod in his direction, a welcome Portenski forced himself to offer each and every time Clay showed up, he let his eyes seek out other parishioners with whom he felt more comfortable. Clay was an intimidating man. He'd probably seen and done things Portenski didn't even want to consider. The pictures in that dark hole explained why. But if Clay was as guilty as everyone believed, even the church couldn't bring him peace.
"Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord."
The confused expressions of those in the audience told Portenski he'd just spoken those words out loud, right in the middle of a persuasive argument on succoring the needy.
Clearing his throat to give himself a split second to gather his scattered thoughts, he recovered by telling his listeners that it wasn't their place to judge whether or not a beggar deserved his current circumstances. "We should never turn away the needy. For aren't we all beggars before God?"
Several people murmured, "Amen." Portenski smiled approvingly and continued preaching--while trying to avoid Clay's piercing gaze. In another fifty minutes, he'd be rid of Mr.
Montgomery, he told himself. And chances were good Clay wouldn't show up next week. His attendance was sporadic at best. But when the closing prayer ended, Clay didn't immediately walk out, as usual. He stood at the back, waiting.
Folding his arms, Clay leaned one shoulder against the wall as the rest of the congregation filed past him. Most people refused to even look at him. Joe's father muttered under his breath that he had no right to be standing in a church with decent people. Joe's mother and her friends glared at him shamelessly. But Clay didn't acknowledge them. He'd seen Allie McCormick's mother escort Allie's daughter out a few minutes before the service ended, saw the little girl turn and wave to her mother, so he knew Allie had come. He wanted to catch a glimpse of her badly enough to wait around. And, after what Grace had told him, he was hoping for a chance to speak to the reverend.
But it was Beth Ann who approached him as soon as she could cut through the crowd flowing toward the exit.
"Clay, it's so good to see you," she said.
"Good to see you, too." His response was automatic and subdued, but he regretted saying even that much when she pounced on the opportunity to read more into it.
"Really? Do you mean that?"
The longing in her voice made Clay uncomfortable. He wanted to say something to make 65
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the situation less painful for her, but being nice only gave her false hope.
"Listen, Beth Ann, I'm sorry--" he started, but a third voice interrupted before he could finish.
"Of course he means it. Clay likes to see all his friends. I'm glad you could make it to church today, Mr. Montgomery."
Surprised that Allie would involve herself, he turned to find her coming toward him from the other side. When their eyes met, she grinned, letting him know she'd rescued him on purpose.
"Officer McCormick," he said with a nod. Clay supposed he should smile politely and leave it at that, but he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering over her. She looked so pretty, so...wholesome in her white blouse and skirt. For a moment he completely forgot she wasn't the most beautiful woman in the world.
"What's going on?" Beth Ann asked, glancing between them.
Clay regarded her blankly, hoping to defuse her apparent jealousy, but it was too late.
"Are you hoping for your turn in his bed?" she asked Allie, instantly suspicious.
"You're in a church," Clay reminded her, but Beth Ann didn't seem to care.
Allie responded with far less than the denial Beth Ann had obviously hoped to provoke.
"What I'd really like is a few lessons in pool," she said.
"Pool?" Beth Ann repeated, confusion wrinkling her normally smooth forehead.
Allie nodded. "Yes--billiards. Clay definitely knows how to play."
"That's not the only game he's good at," Beth Ann said. "If you're not careful, he'll hurt you, too."
Allie merely smiled. "If he doesn't want to tutor me, I'll learn from someone else."
"Until you realize there
is
no one else, at least no one like him," Beth Ann said sulkily and walked away.
Embarrassed, Clay wasn't sure what to say in the wake of such a departure. So he rubbed a hand over his jaw and waited for Allie to break the awkward silence.
"That was some endorsement," she said.
He tried to shrug it off. "She didn't grow up here, remember?"
"What does that mean?"
"I guess I have her fooled."
"Today. Considering the call she made from your farm, she tends to vacillate."
"She's not as bad as the past week might suggest."
Allie's smile changed, grew thoughtful. "That's generous of you."
"It's true," he said simply.
"I guess she's telling everyone she's ready to marry and settle down."
"I've heard." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his chinos. "She'll make someone a good wife."
"Someone?"
"Someone else."
"Why not you?"
"She can't play pool," he teased. "When do you want your first lesson?"
Allie lifted her chin. "How much is it going to cost me?"
He sent her a slow, devilish grin. "I'm not as cheap as you might've heard."
She feigned disappointment. "Now you're really breaking my heart."
"But I'll give you a lesson if you'll go out to dinner with me."
She glanced surreptitiously around the church. "When?"
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"Tonight?"
His heart hammered against his chest as he waited for her response. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been nervous asking a woman out. In most cases, he wasn't the one extending the invitation.
She opened her mouth to answer him, then saw her father moving toward them. "I'll call you," she murmured and scooted out the door.
Clay was tempted to watch her as she left. But Chief McCormick had stopped in front of him and made a point of getting his attention.
"Leave her alone," he muttered.
Clay blinked in surprise. "What did you say?"
"You heard me," he replied and stalked out the door.
Allie hurried to her cruiser, which was the vehicle she usually drove around town. Whitney had grown restless in church and Evelyn had already taken her home for a nap, so she didn't have to worry about getting her daughter strapped into the back seat, which was fortunate because she didn't want to give her father a chance to catch up with her. She and her parents had barely spoken since their argument at the breakfast table yesterday. When they did talk, they acted as if nothing had happened. Judging by the look on Dale's face when he saw her with Clay, however, the truce was over.
She managed to slip into the driver's seat of her car and, pretending she didn't see her father coming after her, closed the door and drove off. She thought it'd be wise to give Dale a chance to cool down and get involved in a TV show or project before she saw him again--because it wasn't going to do any good to continue arguing. He couldn't convince her to stay away from Clay. Clay was part of her investigation and, after speaking with Lucas, Allie believed more than ever that the Montgomerys were the key to solving the case. Clearly, since Clay had stonewalled the police for nearly twenty years, the antagonistic approach wasn't working with him. She couldn't see the harm in trying a little friendship.
Besides, she liked Clay--just as much as she had when she was drunk, she realized with chagrin.
Beth Ann's words came back to her.
He'll hurt you, too,
she'd said. But Allie wasn't concerned. She had no expectations of a serious relationship. He might've asked her out to dinner, but she knew better than to assume he had more than a passing interest in her. A woman didn't have to know him very well to understand that he wasn't big on commitment. Of all the rumors that circulated about him, the one that said he was hard to get--which Allie translated as
impossible
--was the one she most believed.
Her cell phone rang. She rooted around for it while she drove, trying to find where it had fallen, hoping it was her brother. She'd called him earlier to complain about their father. Moving home was a mixed blessing. She appreciated her parents' support, knew it was good for Whitney to have them around, but it was so hard giving up the autonomy she'd enjoyed as a married adult.
Maybe living with her father
and
working for him had started out okay, but after only six weeks it was putting a strain on their relationship. Danny had tried to warn her....
Where was her phone? As it rang again, she leaned forward to feel under the seat, wondering if she should move into the guesthouse. Her parents wouldn't like it, but it would give her more privacy. And Whitney could still stay at her parents' on the nights Allie worked.
Eventually her fingers closed around her phone and she managed to pull it out from under the passenger seat. But after one glance at the caller ID, Allie tossed it aside. It wasn't her brother, 67