her desk. She worked too hard to make sure others treated her stepmother with respect to ever slight Irene herself. “It’s okay. Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of my mother.”
He looked as if he might argue, but ultimately must’ve decided against it. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up, but we found some items this morning that could possibly turn into leads.”
“Possibly?” she echoed, her pulse kicking up. “What, exactly, are we talking about?”
“Some short strands of hair, for one.”
“That didn’t belong to my father?”
“They’re black.”
She knew what he was going to say next, so she said it for him. “Like Clay’s.”
It was Clay who drove it there….
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Irene snapped.
The Montgomerys had been accused so many times, Madeline could scarcely blame Irene for sounding bel igerent. But Madeline was afraid her stepmother’s attitude wouldn’t win her any points with Pontiff, so she squelched her own flicker of doubt beneath the love and respect she felt for Clay.
“Mom’s right. If you look closely, you’l probably find my hair in that car, too. And Grace’s. And Mol y’s. We took the Cadil ac to church every week.”
“Saying you found Clay’s hair in the car is like saying you found Clay’s DNA in the house!” Irene added.
Madeline recognized the dislike in Toby’s eyes. As if the town didn’t have enough against her stepmother, many Stil water residents blamed Irene for the downfal of Chief McCormick. Madeline was guessing Toby was one of them. But there was nothing Madeline could do about what had happened nine months ago, nothing anyone could do.
Unlike the mystery surrounding her father, the former police chief’s affair with Irene was more than mere accusation; it was common knowledge.
“The hairs were stuck between the headrest and the seat,” Pontiff clarified.
“So?” Irene chal enged.
“On the driver’s side.”
Clay had never been al owed to drive the Cadil ac.
Madeline had verified that in her own statement to the police.
“Maybe he took it for a joy ride once,” Irene suggested.
Pontiff’s lips barely moved when he spoke. “To the quarry, perhaps?”
“What you found doesn’t prove that.” Irene’s voice had a desperate, panicky edge that made Madeline step closer and take her hand.
“Clay might’ve been behind the wheel for reasons completely unrelated to my father’s disappearance,” she said.
“For instance…” Pontiff prodded.
Madeline quickly came up with a plausible scenario. “To move it so he could get the tractor through.”
The hair meant nothing. Like the cal er today. Like al the accusations that had come before. If her stepbrother was guilty, where was the proof?
“There’s something else,” Pontiff said.
Madeline’s stomach tensed with painful anticipation.
“What?”
“A smal suitcase.”
“You found a suitcase? Where was it when we were at the quarry?”
“It’s more like a smal satchel. It was hidden beneath the spare tire in the trunk.”
“But my father didn’t take any of his clothes.”
“It wasn’t fil ed with clothes. It had some rope inside.”
The anxiety grew worse. “What kind of rope?”
“Unfortunately, it’s ordinary rope that you can buy at any hardware store.”
“Is there anything unique about it? Anything that might help us figure out where it came from?”
“Not that I can see.”
Disappointment weighed heavily. “So…do you think it was used to bind my father?” Madeline hated the vision her words evoked but refused to let fear of what her father might’ve experienced stop her from asking difficult questions. “That whatever happened to him was premeditated?”
Pontiff fidgeted uncomfortably. “I don’t think the rope was used on your father,” he said. “That wasn’t the only thing in the bag.”
Madeline exchanged a wary glance with Irene. “Tel us.”
He lowered his
He looked as if he might argue, but ultimately must’ve decided against it. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up, but we found some items this morning that could possibly turn into leads.”
“Possibly?” she echoed, her pulse kicking up. “What, exactly, are we talking about?”
“Some short strands of hair, for one.”
“That didn’t belong to my father?”
“They’re black.”
She knew what he was going to say next, so she said it for him. “Like Clay’s.”
It was Clay who drove it there….
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Irene snapped.
The Montgomerys had been accused so many times, Madeline could scarcely blame Irene for sounding bel igerent. But Madeline was afraid her stepmother’s attitude wouldn’t win her any points with Pontiff, so she squelched her own flicker of doubt beneath the love and respect she felt for Clay.
“Mom’s right. If you look closely, you’l probably find my hair in that car, too. And Grace’s. And Mol y’s. We took the Cadil ac to church every week.”
“Saying you found Clay’s hair in the car is like saying you found Clay’s DNA in the house!” Irene added.
Madeline recognized the dislike in Toby’s eyes. As if the town didn’t have enough against her stepmother, many Stil water residents blamed Irene for the downfal of Chief McCormick. Madeline was guessing Toby was one of them. But there was nothing Madeline could do about what had happened nine months ago, nothing anyone could do.
Unlike the mystery surrounding her father, the former police chief’s affair with Irene was more than mere accusation; it was common knowledge.
“The hairs were stuck between the headrest and the seat,” Pontiff clarified.
“So?” Irene chal enged.
“On the driver’s side.”
Clay had never been al owed to drive the Cadil ac.
Madeline had verified that in her own statement to the police.
“Maybe he took it for a joy ride once,” Irene suggested.
Pontiff’s lips barely moved when he spoke. “To the quarry, perhaps?”
“What you found doesn’t prove that.” Irene’s voice had a desperate, panicky edge that made Madeline step closer and take her hand.
“Clay might’ve been behind the wheel for reasons completely unrelated to my father’s disappearance,” she said.
“For instance…” Pontiff prodded.
Madeline quickly came up with a plausible scenario. “To move it so he could get the tractor through.”
The hair meant nothing. Like the cal er today. Like al the accusations that had come before. If her stepbrother was guilty, where was the proof?
“There’s something else,” Pontiff said.
Madeline’s stomach tensed with painful anticipation.
“What?”
“A smal suitcase.”
“You found a suitcase? Where was it when we were at the quarry?”
“It’s more like a smal satchel. It was hidden beneath the spare tire in the trunk.”
“But my father didn’t take any of his clothes.”
“It wasn’t fil ed with clothes. It had some rope inside.”
The anxiety grew worse. “What kind of rope?”
“Unfortunately, it’s ordinary rope that you can buy at any hardware store.”
“Is there anything unique about it? Anything that might help us figure out where it came from?”
“Not that I can see.”
Disappointment weighed heavily. “So…do you think it was used to bind my father?” Madeline hated the vision her words evoked but refused to let fear of what her father might’ve experienced stop her from asking difficult questions. “That whatever happened to him was premeditated?”
Pontiff fidgeted uncomfortably. “I don’t think the rope was used on your father,” he said. “That wasn’t the only thing in the bag.”
Madeline exchanged a wary glance with Irene. “Tel us.”
He lowered his
Similar Books
