Grace checked on Madeline again. When she found her examining items and letters in a cigar box, she returned her attention to the invoice. Other than her mother’s name, Jed had meticulously recorded the parts he’d ordered and installed in the tractor, his time and the amount due. But unlike all the other invoices she’d seen in the drawer so far, this one wasn’t marked paid.
Hadn’t he collected? Grace couldn’t remember. Of course, she knew he’d never come to the house that night. But what about later?
“There’s nothing here,” Madeline said, dejection dripping from her words. “Just some old love letters from a woman named Marilyn, a two-dollar bill that has I love you written on it, and pictures of three kids I don’t recognize.”
“I’m not coming up with anything, either.” Grace put the invoice back and was about to close the drawer when her eye caught something black and shiny stuffed below the hanging file folders. Curious to see what it could be and why it was there, she shifted so Madeline couldn’t see what she was doing. Moving some files, she pulled out a pocket Bible—and nearly dropped it again.
It was the one the Reverend Barker had carried everywhere like a small day-planner.
The one she thought they’d buried with him.
Kennedy was hoping to finish Joe Vincelli off quickly by sinking the eight ball on his next turn, after which he planned to call it a night. He liked hanging out at the pool hall on Thursdays. Since Raelynn’s death, it was the only social outing he participated in with any regularity. Fortunately, his kids really liked Kari Monson, the middle-aged single woman who lived next door to his parents. Kari worked days but often helped Kennedy if he needed babysitting in the evening. He knew she’d already have the boys in bed. But it was getting late, and he had a big day tomorrow. He needed to head home.
On the other side of the table, Joe bent over the smooth green felt, running his cue stick lightly through his thumb and finger as he considered the various shots open to him. Three striped balls remained on the table to Kennedy’s one solid, so Kennedy was trying to be patient. But he was beginning to wonder if Joe would ever take his turn. “Come on. I want to go home sometime tonight.”
“Give me a second,” Joe barked and moved to the end of the table to check the angle of yet another shot. Although Joe’s earlier visit to Kennedy’s office hadn’t gone particularly well, they hadn’t mentioned it since arriving at the pool hall. They hadn’t talked about Grace at all. But Kennedy could feel the added tension between them. Joe really wanted to win this game.
“I’ll give you an extra shot if you need it,” Kennedy said. “Just go.”
“You won’t give me anything.” Joe straightened and raised one eyebrow to ensure he’d made his point. “I don’t need you to make concessions.”
Kennedy waved off the waitress, who was coming around to ask if he wanted another drink. “Enough with the competitive bullshit, okay? You’ve circled the table three times. It’s only fifty bucks. Let’s go.”
Finished with his game at the next table, Buzz carried his beer over so he could watch. “Who’s winning?”
Kennedy didn’t respond, and neither did Joe, but that was answer enough. If Joe had been winning, he would’ve made some wisecrack.
“That’s your best angle right there,” Buzz said, trying to encourage the continuation of the game. But Buzz was better friends with Kennedy than he was with Joe, so it didn’t surprise Kennedy when Joe discounted the advice and stooped to take an entirely different shot.
Joe’s shadow stretched over the table, then the cue ball clacked against its target and sent the striped thirteen racing for the corner pocket.
At the last second, it banked off the side and veered off in the wrong direction.
Kennedy knew he was in a perfect position to end the game. Before he could do that, however, Ronnie Oates, who’d just left for home three minutes earlier, came rushing back into the pool hall.
“I think someone’s breaking into the auto shop next door!” he said. In his excitement he sounded as though he’d been running much farther than the distance from the parking lot to the building.
“Who’d want to rob old Jed?” Joe muttered. “Hell, if someone’s that desperate for a wrench, he can have one of mine.”
“All I know is that I saw the beam of a flashlight inside,” Ronnie said. “Let’s go take a look.”
Kennedy gazed longingly at the eight ball. One more shot…just one, and the game would be over. But Joe and the others were already pouring out the back. Even if he sank it, there’d be no one to witness the victory. Then, when Joe came back, he’d say they had to play again.
“There is a flashlight or something over there,” he heard someone else shout.
He laid his cue stick across the table. He supposed he might as well go see what was happening. Probably just a bunch of kids out to cause trouble, but it was Thursday, not Friday, which was a bit odd. And Jed’s Dependable Auto Repair made an unlikely target.
“Call the police,” he yelled over to Pug, the bartender.
Kennedy waited long enough to see the man pick up the phone and dial. Then he strode into the parking lot.
Shouts rose outside as Grace stared at the Bible she’d just discovered and, for a second, her knees threatened to give out on her. They were going to be caught—exactly what she’d feared.
A thump indicated that Madeline had dropped her flashlight. Scooping it up again, she turned it off. “Someone’s coming,” she whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”
The dog they’d been so careful to feed at the tire shop next door began to bark at the noise.
Grace didn’t know what to do. Should she leave the Bible in the file drawer? Or try to take it with her?
Panic made it difficult to think. Turning off her own flashlight, she shoved the Bible back inside the drawer. Then she realized that the break-in might raise enough questions that someone else would search for the reason they’d been interested in the place at all. If the Bible surfaced, embossed with the reverend’s name and containing his margin notes, whoever found it would go straight to Jed. Then he’d be forced to tell where he got it and how. And he could only have gotten it the night the reverend died. Grace remembered how the Bible had fallen out of her stepfather’s jacket as they dragged his body down the porch steps. She’d tried stuffing it back in, but…had it fallen out a second time, farther away, on the dark wet ground?