Author: Brenda Novak
Category: Thriller
Go to read content：https://readonlinefreebook.com/dead-giveaway-stillwater-trilogy-2-s8378-c13-h
"Thanks largely to your fellow officer."
"Hendricks?"
"Who else? He's done everything but call the damn paper, claiming we finally have our man."
She expected Dale to pick up her report, glance through it for the real story. But he didn't.
"What do you think?" she asked.
"Hendricks is an idiot."
She checked the window for headlights, knowing Hendricks could arrive at any moment. "I agree. But his father is on the board of supervisors. And I was talking about the case. From what you've heard, do you think Beth Ann's statement will have any impact?"
"It could."
Allie had anticipated a different answer, a confirmation of her own opinion. "What about my report?"
"What about it?"
"Aren't you going to read it?"
"I don't need to."
"What?"
He didn't answer.
"Dad, if you're not going to read the report, I'll tell you. We don't have much more than we had yesterday. Beth Ann is merely claiming Clay told her something he swears he didn't. That's not physical evidence."
"It all adds up," he said indifferently.
"Last I heard, we needed more than 'he said, she said' to charge someone with murder. At the very least, a body would be nice."
"Try telling that to all the people who've been calling here, demanding Clay's arrest," he snapped. "I swear they'd lynch him if they could, without proof that he's guilty of anything--except, perhaps, refusing to kiss the right asses."
Allie had never heard her father be so supportive of Clay. "You once told me you thought he was guilty, and that his mother and sisters were covering for him," she said. "Have you changed your mind?"
His two fingers continued to pluck at the keys. "What I think doesn't matter." He angled his head toward her report. "What you think doesn't matter, either. Only what we can prove."
"But we can't prove he killed Barker. So how can the D. A. run with this?"
"He can and he might. It's a political hornet's nest right now."
"That's crazy," she said. "We need to find the real culprit."
"You don't think it's Clay?" He looked up at her.
"It could be him or one of several other people," she hedged.
He went back to typing. "Don't waste any effort on Barker's disappearance."
Allie sat straighter. Her father had acted as if the Barker case wasn't a high priority to him, but this was the first time he'd actually stated it. "What did you say?"
"Whatever physical evidence there once was is long gone."
"Not necessarily," she argued. "The files themselves could contain the key to the whole mystery."
"Maybe, but what's to be gained for all the hours you'd have to spend doing the research and interviewing everyone who ever gave a statement? The offender's never acted again. It's not an issue of public safety."
"It can stop the D.A. from going after the wrong guy. Although I doubt they'd get a conviction against Clay, even if they tried him."
"They could if they tried him around here."
Allie didn't like that answer. "It's a matter of justice," she said. "Of giving Reverend Barker's relatives the answers they crave. A man has gone missing, Dad. As far as I'm concerned, it's our job to find out what happened to him."
"He went missing a long time ago," he said. "As far as I'm concerned, we've got more pressing problems."
Allie gaped at him. "Why the change of heart?"
"Solving a cold case takes months and months of hard work. You've told me that yourself."
"It does, but--"
"I don't see any point in chasing this one," he interrupted. "On or off the job. I need you to take care of the problems that are cropping up today, not two decades ago. And you're a single mom, Allie. You don't want to be spending all your off-hours working on Barker's disappearance."
After hitting a final key, he pushed away from his desk, and the printer whirred into action.
As it pumped out the document he'd just created, Allie could see that it was a letter to the mayor; she hoped it explained the lack of evidence against Clay Montgomery. But she didn't retrieve it for her father. "I don't understand," she said.
He met her gaze. "What's not to understand?"
"You used to be as interested in this as I am."
Scowling, he yanked on his coat. "I've put the past behind me. The rest of this town should do the same."
"Dad, they've lost a friend, a family member, a neighbor. And they don't know why."
"They're out to pin it on someone whether he's guilty or not."
Allie felt her irritation increase. "If we solve the case, we solve the problem."
"Maybe some cases are better left unsolved," he grumbled.
"What?"
He didn't answer. "I'm beat. I'm heading home."
Allie watched him sign the mayor's letter, put it in the out-box and cross to the door. For a moment, she thought he was going to leave without saying goodbye. But then he turned back.
"How about keeping things quiet tonight?" he said and tossed her a tired grin.
Allie forced a smile. "Be careful, Dad. It's ugly outside."
He paused to shake out his umbrella. "Where's that damn Hendricks?" he asked, consulting his watch.
Allie shrugged. "Late, as usual."
"Worthless," he muttered. Then he opened the door and the wind blew into the room, smelling of rain.
Allie used the coffee cup he'd been drinking from to keep his papers from scattering to the floor. At first she was so preoccupied with trying to make sense of her father's uncharacteristic responses-- some cases are better left unsolved? --that she wasn't really seeing what was in front of her. But a moment later, her eyes focused on the cup she'd just moved. It had a teddy bear on it and said, "Life would be un-bear-able without you."
Life would be un-bear-able without you? Frowning, she picked it up to take a closer look.
Where had her father gotten this? Her mother always chose plain, masculine items for Dale, and elegant, classy things for herself. Allie couldn't remember ever seeing cutesy objects like this in her parents' house. And it wasn't the type of cup a man, especially Dale, would purchase for himself....
She glanced over at the coffeemaker and the odd assortment of cups that accumulated there. Who knew where any of them came from? she thought, and carried the cup to the sink.