Dead Right by Brenda Novak Page B

of her panties, or those of anyone else she knew, being in that suitcase was too horrible to contemplate.
    “I have no idea,” Pontiff said. “But I’d like to find out. And it makes sense to begin with the family.”
    It did make sense; it was just that his discovery was so revolting.
    “That’l be too upsetting for her,” Irene said. “I’l do it.”
    Madeline put up a hand. “No, of course I’l come, too. We both wil .”
    “Good.”
    Madeline caught his elbow. “You know what this confirms, don’t you?”
    He didn’t seem to know at al . “What?”

    “The Vincel is and everyone who’s supported them are wrong.” A lump rose in her throat as she spoke, surprising even her. “It wasn’t Clay.”
    “Maddy—” he started, but she refused to let him interrupt her.
    “My stepbrother might seem dark and remote to you, to lots of people, but he’d sacrifice his own life before he’d ever hurt a child.”
    Sympathy softened Pontiff’s features. “Folks aren’t always what they seem, Maddy.”
    Madeline wouldn’t let it go. “I’d bet my own life that he’d never touch a child in an inappropriate manner,” she said fiercely. “He’s angry and he’s determined and he’s—” she searched for the right word to describe her stepbrother “—
    tough. But he’s not sick.”
    “He had a hard childhood,” Pontiff said gently. “That can scar a person.”
    It was the first time she’d heard Toby speak with any compassion for Clay. Clay was too capable, too strong to evoke sympathy from most people, despite his background.
    “He has his scars,” she said. “But he’s always protected those who are smal er, weaker and more vulnerable than himself. Surely you’ve seen how much his stepdaughter adores him.”
    Pontiff put his hand over hers. “The fact that he has a stepdaughter means I can’t take your word for what Clay is or isn’t, Maddy. I have to look at the facts. You understand.”
    What she understood was that it was time to exonerate Clay and expose the real kil er. Maybe the facts hadn’t stood in his favor before. But she was more certain than ever that now they would. And if the police weren’t capable of solving the case, she’d make sure Hunter Solozano did the job for them.

    Madeline sat in the police station with her stepmother, waiting for Grace to arrive. The rain had final y stopped, but the cloud-darkened sky threatened more bad weather.
    The heater rattled as it pumped out hot air. Officer Radcliffe, who stood at the filing cabinet in the corner, bore a sheen of sweat on his forehead—proof that the heater was working. But Madeline couldn’t get warm. Not since she’d seen what the police had found in her father’s trunk.
    “Are you sure, Maddy?” Irene whispered.
    Her tongue felt thick and unwieldy, but she forced it to work. “I’m sure.”

    “But I don’t remember them. And lots of young girls wore bikini underwear.”
    It wasn’t the fact that they were bikinis that made them identifiable; it was the picture of an island with a monkey climbing a palm tree on the back. Madeline suspected Irene recognized them, too. Her stepmother didn’t want to face what it might mean, preferred to think they were dealing with some kind of coincidence or mistake. “I’m positive. ”
    She’d meant to speak gently, but she couldn’t conceal her impatience. Irene was getting older and didn’t have the coping skil s she’d once possessed. But Madeline was so exhausted and confused, she lacked the reserves to shelter her right now.
    Why were Grace’s first pair of bikini underwear—the ones Madeline had bought her for Christmas—in a strange suitcase with some rope and a dildo? Grace was only thirteen when that car went missing.
    “If you’re sure about the…the panties, there’s no need to have Grace come down here,” Irene said.
    “Mom, please,” Madeline snapped.
    Chief Pontiff looked up from his desk and met Madeline’s eyes. When she scowled and