“Tell her what you heard at the tavern last night. I didn’t bring you over here just so you could wolf down two plates of pasta,” Madeline teased, pulling her long auburn hair over one shoulder.
Picking up her wineglass from the table, Grace stood and crossed the room to stare out the front window. Barker would never be forgotten, she thought bitterly. Even after eighteen years, it seemed that every conversation, at least with anyone remotely connected to Stillwater, included him—if not directly, then in some kind of subtext.
“I ran into Matt Howton,” Kirk said.
Grace sipped her wine. “Matt? I don’t recall him.”
“He’s John Howton’s oldest. Tall, skinny guy, about twenty-three. Works for Jed Fowler down at the auto shop.”
At the mention of Jed Fowler, tension knotted the muscles in Grace’s back and shoulders. “What did Matt have to say?”
Kirk leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and letting his hands dangle between his knees. “We were just kicking back, having a few beers and shooting some pool, you know? And then he asked me how Madeline’s doing, which led to the fact that you’re in town, which led to what he thought about your stepfather.”
“And?” Grace asked, bracing herself.
“He suspects Jed Fowler might’ve had something to do with what happened,” Madeline inserted, as if she couldn’t wait for Kirk to get to the point.
Grace wasn’t surprised by this declaration. Matt wasn’t the first to suggest the taciturn repairman had been involved in the reverend’s disappearance. But the excitement in Madeline’s voice indicated there was more. “Did he say why?”
“First, you know Lorna Martin, who lives behind Jed’s shop, says that on the night our father disappeared, she heard Jed’s truck pull in around midnight, right?”
Grace nodded.
“The light went on in the shop and stayed on until 3:00 a.m.,” Madeline continued. “She insists it’s the only time she’s ever seen him there so late.”
“She reported that to the police,” Grace said.
“Now tell her what Matt said,” Madeline urged Kirk.
“Matt claims Jed has a file drawer he always keeps locked,” Kirk said.
Grace’s stomach began to hurt. She’d had enough of locked file drawers. From her experience, nothing good was ever inside. “So?” She scowled as she turned to face them. “Maybe he’s got something valuable in there.”
Kirk’s eyebrows notched up, as if it surprised him that she wasn’t more excited about the news. “Maybe he does, and maybe he doesn’t, but according to Matt, he acts very strange about it. Matt was doing some stuff in the office two days ago and happened to find the drawer unlocked for a change. Curiosity got the better of him, so he opened it. Jed walked in at that moment and got so angry he nearly fired him.”
“I’ve never seen Jed angry,” Grace said. “I’ve never seen him express any emotion.”
“Exactly,” Kirk agreed smugly. “Obviously, there’s something in that drawer he doesn’t want anyone to see.”
Jed had long been a dangerous variable. “What could it be?” Grace asked.
“Maybe it’s evidence,” Madeline replied.
“If he’s guilty of murdering our…father, why would he hang on to something that could possibly incriminate him?” She’d used her prosecutor’s matter-of-fact tone, but she knew of at least one very plausible reason he might’ve done exactly that—if he were the culprit. And Madeline launched right into it.
“Who can say for sure? But it happens. I’ve seen enough forensic shows to know that much.” She drained her glass. “Heck, you’ve probably dealt with a few criminals who’ve kept trophies, haven’t you?”
“One.” Not that she wanted to be reminded of it. She was silent for a few seconds. “I thought you’d decided it was Mike Metzger?” she said at last.
A week before he went missing, the reverend had caught nineteen-year-old Mike smoking pot in the bathroom of the church and turned him in to the authorities. Mike hadn’t been too happy about it. He’d made a few threats before the reverend disappeared and afterward admitted he was glad Barker was gone. But his mother swore he was home in bed on the night in question, and the circumstantial evidence pointing his way wasn’t strong enough for police to press charges. Mike was now in prison for manufacturing crystal meth in his basement, but Madeline had sworn for years that he was to blame for her father’s disappearance.
A furrow developed between Madeline’s large hazel eyes. “I’ve never wanted to believe it could be Jed,” she muttered. “I’ve always liked him. But there’s no denying he’s a bit…different.”
Grace couldn’t argue with that. “It’s easier to imagine Mike doing something horrid.”
“Right. But I think I might’ve been too closed-minded. We already know that Jed was at the farm that night, working on the tractor.”
“He was in the barn. That doesn’t necessarily make him guilty of murder. Mike lived less than a mile away. That’s certainly a walkable distance.”
Rising, Madeline poured herself and Kirk some more wine. At least five-eight, she was tall, slender and regal. Only the light dusting of freckles on her nose detracted from the sophistication of her appearance. “Jed had a better opportunity.”
Kirk scooted forward a little. “Picture this. The reverend comes home from the church, sees the light on in the barn and walks down to see how the tractor’s coming along. He and Jed argue, get into a scuffle—”
“Argue over what?” Grace asked. “At least Mike had a motive. Why would Jed want to hurt our dad?” The word dad tasted so bitter on her tongue she almost couldn’t say it.
“They could’ve had a disagreement over anything,” Kirk said.
“But our father never even came home that night.” Grace consciously steadied her hand so she could take another sip of wine before repeating what she’d said hundreds of times before. “If his car had pulled up, I would’ve heard him.”
“Maybe you were preoccupied,” Kirk said.
“No. He—he expected our chores to be done. We always watched for him, didn’t we, Madeline?”
“Usually,” she said with a nod.
Grace drew a deep breath. She’d watched for him more carefully than the others. “He never drove up on the night of August third,” she stated calmly.