Dead Giveaway by Brenda Novak Read Free Book Online Page A

child, that he could hate being a father. His attitude towardWhitney was completely inexplicable to her. “You’re getting big, aren’t you?”
    â€œI’m not in kindergarten anymore,” she said proudly.
    But the distraction didn’t last. As soon as Allie released her, Whitney bent her blond head over Clay’s picture again. “Is this a bad guy?”
    Allie didn’t think Clay was a bad guy in the sense that Whitney meant it. But his reputation suggested he wasn’t an innocent, either. There were a lot of questions when it came to the Barker case, questions he hadn’t gone out of his way to answer. “No. I took this picture to show that he doesn’t have any marks on him that would indicate he’d been in a fight.”
    â€œOh,” she said, as though that cleared up all the confusion.
    Fortunately, before Whitney could ask another question about Clay, Allie’s mother’s footsteps sounded in the hall.
    When Whitney glanced expectantly toward the door, Allie shoved Clay’s picture between her mattress and box spring. She’d taken that photo and the others to establish the truth, but she knew protecting Clay, even in the interests of truth, wouldn’t be applauded in Stillwater, even in her parents’ home.
    â€œHow are you feeling?” Evelyn asked as she stepped into the room.
    â€œBoppo, I asked for cookies,” Whitney complained when she saw that her grandmother carried a plate laden with a sandwich and chips. “I already ate lunch.”
    â€œThis is for your mother. Your cookies are out on the counter.”
    â€œOh!”
    Evelyn grinned as Whitney hurried past her, then handed the plate to Allie.
    Allie had never dreamed she’d move back in with her parents. Not at thirty-three and with a child of her own. It was humbling, maybe even a little humiliating, to find herself right back where she’d started. No one liked to feel like a failure. But Dale and Evelyn owned a three-thousand-square-foot single-story rambler on four and a half acres. It didn’t make sense to pay for two households when they had so much room. Especially when living with Grandma and Grandpa meant Whitney could sleep in her own bed while Allie worked. Dale and Evelyn had a guesthouse down the hill, closer to the pond. Allie could’ve taken that—and would if it became necessary—but so far she liked being close to her parents more than she didn’t like it. The last six years of her ten-year marriage had been particularly rough. Living in her own personal hell had made her grateful for their love. “Thanks, Mom.”
    â€œIt was no trouble. How was work last night?”
    â€œInteresting.” She kicked off the covers. It was only mid-May, but she could already feel the humidity of summer creeping up on them.
    Her mother smiled. “Interesting?” she asked in apparent surprise. “What, did you give out a speeding ticket? Pick up someone for expired tags?”
    Evidently her father hadn’t learned about the excitement last night. He hadn’t called Evelyn about it, anyway. Regardless, Allie preferred not to discuss it. She’d heard her mother talk about Clay Montgomery before, knew Evelyn would believe Beth Ann before she’d ever believe Clay, and didn’t want to feel defensive.
    â€œI drove a few folks home from Let the Good Times Roll,” she said—which was true, an hour or so before the call came in from the county dispatcher.
    â€œThat’s it?” Evelyn asked.
    â€œPretty much.” Allie knew she could convince her mother that Clay hadn’t really attacked Beth Ann, that the evidence didn’t support it. But she was uncomfortable with the fact that she’d felt slightly attracted to him and was afraid that, in the process of explaining, she might somehow give that away.
    Ironically enough, in a roundabout way, Evelyn brought up the subject of Clay