Dead Right by Brenda Novak Page A

voice, until she could scarcely make out the words. “There was also a…dildo.”
    Feeling as if he’d just tied thirty-pound weights to each of her limbs, Madeline released Irene’s hand. “A what? ”
    Chief Pontiff had turned bright red. “A—a sex toy, you know, a dildo.”
    “What would a dildo be doing in my father’s trunk?” she nearly shouted.
    His blush deepened. “I have no idea. But I’m hoping we can extract some DNA from it.”
    Irene’s hand clutched her chest. “After al this time?”
    Madeline could tel Pontiff didn’t like Irene enough to let her put him on the spot. But since she was present, he was trying to maintain a certain level of professionalism. “The dildo itself was inside a Ziploc bag that was sealed. If it—”
    he cleared his throat “—if it wasn’t washed before it went into that bag, we might have a chance.”
    Irene turned a shade paler. “What wil that tel us?”
    “Maybe there’s a victim out there somewhere, connected with another case—a case that might have witnesses or information that could help us. Chances are slim that we’l be able to get a sample from the…object, and even slimmer that we’l be able to tie it to someone, but we need to gather whatever we can.”
    Irene shook her head. “But the connection you’re looking for could be clear across the country. Lee must’ve picked up a hitchhiker on his way home, some guy who shoved that stuff in the trunk before sinking the car.”

    She’d often postulated that a drifter or hitchhiker had been involved. But no one had reported seeing any strangers the day Madeline’s father went missing. And strangers definitely stood out in a town where everyone knew everyone else and viewed the unfamiliar with a measure of distrust.
    Pontiff studied his shoes. “We found something else in the suitcase, too,” he said in a resigned manner.
    It couldn’t get worse…. Could it?
    “What?” Madeline asked as Irene echoed the same question.
    He lifted his gaze, and a muscle flexed in his cheek.
    “Three pairs of panties. They look like they came from a girl of eleven or twelve.”
    Suddenly, Madeline felt dizzy. The thought of a rope, a dildo and girls’ panties hidden together—anywhere—made her il . No doubt they affected Chief Pontiff the same way.
    He had three children—al of them daughters.
    “So the man who kil ed my father was a pedophile?” she gasped.
    “That’s the way it appears.”

    But how did someone like that circulate among them, going so far as to murder the town’s spiritual leader—and get away with it? Stil water typical y had little or no crime.
    There were only fifteen hundred residents—and not one convicted sex offender.
    Col ecting her splintered thoughts, Madeline touched Pontiff’s arm. “Toby.” For a moment, he wasn’t the chief of police to her. He was her friend’s husband, a boy she’d known her whole life, a caring adult like herself. “What if my father was counseling a man with…with unacceptable sexual compulsions. You know how confessions are supposed to be private, but some things have to be reported? Maybe my father was going to turn in this…this pathetic individual and was kil ed because of it.”
    “That’s crossed my mind,” he admitted.
    “If it was someone he knew wel , maybe even trusted and respected, think of the resulting embarrassment.”
    “Someone like that might go to great lengths to avoid discovery.”
    “Exactly. So are you planning to question al the men in my father’s congregation?” This had been done before, but now they had reason to look closer.
    “I might. Right now, I need the two of you to come to the station with me.”

    “For what?” Irene cried.
    “To see if you recognize the suitcase or the panties. We need to figure out who they might’ve belonged to.”
    “You don’t think they could be mine, ” Madeline said.
    When Irene slipped one arm around her, she realized her voice had gone shril , but the idea