Free Dead Giveaway by Brenda Novak Page A

spread several Polaroid pictures on the desk.

    As penance, he forced himself to focus on each one--and then he threw up.

    His mother was calling him.

    Clay shaded his face with his arm and gazed toward the driveway that circled around to the chicken coop, barn and outbuildings. Sure enough, there she was, hurrying toward him in a red dress, a flamboyant hat and high heels.

    "Stay there, I'm coming," he called and dropped his shovel before she could break an ankle in the loose gravel. He'd been cleaning out irrigation ditches all morning. The exertion made his long-sleeved T-shirt stick to him, but it was actually a mild, overcast day.

    "Have you heard?" his mother cried before he could reach her.

    He didn't know what she was talking about. If the shrillness of her voice was any indication, he didn't want to know. But she wouldn't have left the boutique where she worked unless it was important.

    He braced himself for the worst. "What's wrong?"

    "Allie McCormick is searching for Lucas."

    He'd expected to hear Barker's name. "Lucas?"

    "Your father, Clay! Don't you remember the name of your own father?"

    With one sleeve, he wiped the perspiration rolling from his temple. Of course he remembered his father's name. It was just that he didn't think about Lucas anymore. He had more pressing concerns. But there'd been a time when he'd longed for his father on a daily basis--to the point of nearly making himself ill.

    "Why is she looking for him?" he asked.

    "Folks are saying I killed him! Can you believe it? He's probably as alive as you and me, and a darn sight richer."

    He raised a hand. "Whoa, slow down. Why would Allie be interested in Lucas? He's got nothing to do with Reverend Barker or Stillwater or anything else. He's never even been here."

    "She thinks I'm some sort of black widow. Mrs. Little just told me."

    Mrs. Little owned the dress store where Irene worked five days a week. Although the Littles had been grudging with their friendship at first, and still kept the relationship mostly on a professional level, they were kinder to Irene than anyone else in town.

    "So she's searching for him," Clay said with a shrug. "Let her. The more time she spends on Lucas, the less she can spend on Barker."

    "But what if she finds him?"

    "Maybe she can collect the back child support he owes you."

    She made a face. "Stop being facetious. I'll never see a dime from him, and you know it.
    Not at this late date. I don't even want his money."

    Clay didn't understand why she was so worked up. "What exactly are you worried about?"

    "If she contacts him, it might bring him here. I don't want that."

    "He won't bother us, not after so many years."
    37

    Brenda Novak

    "He could see it as an opportunity to make amends," she said. "Especially with you. You were the oldest. He knew you best."

    Clay brushed some of the dirt from his pants. His father had never come back. Not even for him. It was a wound that would likely never heal. But he refused to indulge in self-pity.

    Anyway, something else was going on. He could feel it. "You think I'd welcome him back?"

    "You used to worship the ground he walked on," she said.

    She was right. Lucas Montgomery had once been Clay's hero. He was the man who showed up on payday and took them to town for an ice-cream cone. The man who waltzed Irene around the kitchen, or pretended her spatula was a microphone, making them all laugh. The man who held Molly on his lap until she fell asleep, then tucked her safely in bed. Clay's life--and he assumed it was the same for the rest of his family--had been better, more complete whenever Lucas was around. He couldn't lie about that.

    But even when Clay was only five or six, Lucas had stopped coming home on a regular basis. And when he began staying away two and three days at a time, the fighting started. Clay could still hear his mother pleading with his father. "Lucas, you've gotta stop drinkin' and carousin', do ya hear? The water bill's due. What