“We’ll soon see, won’t we?”
Kennedy jerked a T-shirt over his head. “How do you plan to do that?”
“It’s easy. Thanks to Grace, I know where my uncle’s buried.”
The farm. Grace had talked about the farm. And the shovel Joe had mentioned made Kennedy even more nervous. Had Grace really put a shovel in her trunk? If so, what was she going to do with it? And what would it mean to the future they’d talked about? The baby she could be carrying?
“Joe, please. Give Grace a break.”
“Hell, no. This is just the beginning, Kennedy. The police are on their way, and this time I can almost guarantee they’ll come up with the evidence they need to press charges.”
Kennedy couldn’t fasten his pants using only one hand so he left his fly open and went for his shoes. “If you’re looking for blood, go after me. But leave Grace alone.”
Joe laughed softly. “Why, when I can hurt you a lot worse the other way?” he said and hung up.
Kennedy stared down at the phone. After eighteen years of dodging and denying the accusations launched at her and her family, Grace had taken a wrong turn and the wolves were circling.
This was exactly what Kennedy had feared—that he wouldn’t be able to protect her. If the police found a body, he wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing.
After waiting for a dial tone, he called his mother and asked her to come out right away to sit with the boys. Then he called Clay.
The phone at the farm rang and rang and rang. When there was no answer, he tried McCormick on his cell.
“Chief McCormick here.”
“Dale, this is Kennedy.”
“What’s up, Kennedy?”
Kennedy began to pace. “Can you come over? I need to talk to you.”
“I can’t right now. I’m on my way to the Montgomery farm.”
“Joe doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about,” Kennedy said.
There was an awkward silence. “Kennedy, he says he has proof. He also says you’ve been keeping a few secrets you should definitely have passed along.”
“Grace and her family aren’t guilty of murder, Dale.”
“Are you sleeping with her, Kennedy? Is that much true?”
“Whether I’m sleeping with her has nothing to do with her guilt or innocence.”
“It makes a difference to what you’re willing to believe about her, my friend. I sympathize with you. But I have to do my job. If Joe’s got proof, I have to act on it.”
Shit! Kennedy’s growing fear and agitation spurred him to move faster. “Act how?”
“I’ve got Hendricks over at the judge’s house, trying to get a search warrant.”
“But you already searched the farm! You found nothing.”
“We found plenty, but nothing conclusive enough to build a solid case. A body would change that. And Joe’s convinced he knows where to look.”
Kennedy stopped in the middle of the floor. “Dale, listen to me, Joe’s doing this out of spite. He’s a vengeful son of a bitch, that’s all.”
“If we don’t find anything, I’ll shut him down, Kennedy. I promise. I know what Joe’s like. But first I have to determine if there’s any validity to what he’s telling me.”
Kennedy descended the stairs two at a time, dashing to the kitchen for his keys. “Grace was just a girl when the reverend went missing.”
“I’ve heard of stranger things. Anyway, someone’s responsible for his disappearance. And it’s my job to figure out what happened, who did it. I’ll do my best to be fair. You know that.”
His words offered Kennedy little comfort. He kept hearing Grace say, It was my fault…but I didn’t mean for it to happen. It was an accident.
An accident…Would the proof support that? Probably not. If so, the Montgomerys would’ve contacted the police when it happened, right? In any case, after eighteen years it would be difficult to establish the details, and the details were everything. It would be far easier for McCormick to let public opinion—and the Vincellis—pressure him into charging Grace or someone else in her family with murder.
“The facts aren’t always what they seem,” he said.
“The facts are still the facts, Kennedy, and I have to be true to them. I’ll be in touch.”
Kennedy cursed as McCormick hung up. Now what? He tried Judge Reynolds, only to receive a similar answer. If there was new evidence, they had to act on it.
By the time Kennedy’s mother arrived, he was down to contacting Irene Montgomery, anything to bring Grace some support. He had to call information for the number, but Irene was listed.
“Hello?” she said, answering on the second ring and sounding as groggy as he’d expected.
“Irene, this is Kennedy Archer.”
“Kennedy?” she repeated as though she’d never heard the name.
He dared not take the time to explain. “Meet me at the farm as soon as possible. Grace is there, along with Joe Vincelli. The police are on their way.”
“What’s going on?”
“They’re getting another warrant,” he said and slammed the phone down on the counter.
Camille grabbed his arm as he hurried past her toward the garage. “Do you want me to have your father place a few calls?”
“I’ve already called everyone I can think of. Just stay with the boys. I’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as I can,” he said and ran out the door.
21
“That was your boyfriend. He’s a little worried about you,” Joe said. He still hadn’t found her, but he was so close Grace was afraid to breathe. He’d turned on a flashlight and searched the work shed and the trees. Now he was looking inside the cab of the truck.
“I betcha he’s coming over here,” he went on. “Which is fine. He might as well be around when the police arrive. Seeing his face when you’re arrested for murder will be almost as good as what I had planned. Almost, but not quite,” he said with a laugh.
Grace stared at the glimmers of light that seeped through the spots where rust had eaten away the floor of the truck. Joe’s feet were only a few inches from her. She had to come up with some way to stop the inevitable. And she had to do it fast. It was a matter of seconds before he found her. There weren’t that many places to hide.
Searching the ground, she found a small rock as he closed the door of the truck. She imagined he was about to bend, to look underneath. And that left her with only one chance.