Faces Of Evil: Traceless Part 16

Clint stared at Troy, told himself that his sympathy was wasted on the guy. "Do something constructive, Baker," Glint suggested with enough threat in his tone to have Baker's pals backing off. "Ask some of your so-called friends about their alibis that night."

Baker tried to go at Clint again. He landed a right hook square in Baker's face.

"That's enough!" Ray glared at Troy, who was holding his bleeding nose and swearing profusely. "More than enough," Ray said to Clint.

Three more cars skidded to screeching stops on the road, drawing everybody's attention.

"Keith!"

Violet Manning-Turner rushed into the fray, Justine Mallory right on her heels.

"Are you all right?" Violet hovered around Turner. He said something to her that Clint didn't hear.

"We should all go home," Ray said. "Except the four of you." He looked at Baker, Turner, Medford, and Woods. "You fellas are coming with me."

"Ray!" Violet challenged, evidently unhappy with the chief's decision. Ray refused to back down. Justine Mallory stared at Clint for a long a.s.sessing moment before she turned and followed the others.

Clint exhaled a mighty breath. The air smelled of the charred remains of his home. His gaze lingered on the black rubble highlighted by the three-quarter moon.

He'd lost everything and the truth still felt out of reach. Like Psycho Sid said, the whole community would be happy to see Clint dead. Maybe Ray was right, Clint considered, defeat sucking at him. Maybe this whole effort was pointless. But he'd waited so long for this moment... he couldn't quit now.

Shouting dragged his attention back to the squad cars. Troy Baker was bellowing again. His friends backed him up, making comments of their own. Something about traitor. "b.i.t.c.h."

Clint's blood froze.

Another car had arrived.

Emily.

Baker and his buddies were shouting at her.

Fury blasted away the chill and Clint stormed right into the middle of the ruckus.

Ray had finally gotten Baker and Woods into one of the cruisers. Turner and Medford were being hustled into the other. Not quickly enough, since Medford managed to shake loose and get right in Emily's face.

"You'll get yours, too," he warned her. "Just waita""

Clint grabbed Medford's shoulder and jerked him around. He put one solid punch in Medford's face and the guy dropped like the bag of s.h.i.t he was.

Ray restrained Clint as Medford was hauled into the squad car. "Shake it off," Ray said to Clint.

Clint yanked his arm free of Ray's grip. "Next time," he threatened, "I won't play nice."

He turned back to Emily. She hadn't moved. She stood at the edge of his yard near the end of the driveway, her arms wrapped protectively around her waist. She looked lost.

The rest of the crowd, which was bigger than Clint had realized, had to be herded back to their vehicles. Every d.a.m.ned one looked as if they'd come from some fancy party. Come to think of it, Baker and his friends had been dressed similarly.

Violet stopped a few feet from Emily, Justine Mallory at her side. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Emily," Violet accused. "Just look what you've done."

Justine ushered her away, toward one of the cars parked on the road. Emily stared after them; her shoulders trembled.

This was what she got for rescuing Clint last night. The ache started down low in his gut, unfamiliar and fierce. She took an unsteady step and then another. She was leaving.

"Emily." Her name came out raw. His throat was sore and swollen from the smoke last night. Couldn't be anything else.

She hesitated, glanced back at him, then walked away.

Maybe he had made a mistake coming back here. But there was no stopping the momentum now.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

City Hall 11:45 p.m.

"I want the truth." Ray gave Keith and Troy equal time with his most intimidating glare. He'd had enough. He'd already questioned Larry and Perry. They didn't know anything. Just kept bl.u.s.tering about what they were going to do, which meant they hadn't done a d.a.m.ned thing.

"Why didn't you haul Austin in?" Troy demanded. "You didn't want to put him in the car with any of us? Or you just plain didn't think he did anything wrong? You're on his side in all of this, aren't you, Ray?"

Troy paced back and forth in the interview room like a lion on Ritalin. Ray wasn't at all sure he would get the man to calm down short of giving him overnight accommodations. He didn't want to do that. Troy had kids. It was a d.a.m.ned shame he wasn't thinking of them in all this.

"You trespa.s.sed on his property. He's the victim here," Ray said in answer to Troy's insolent question, "and I didn't want him kicking your a.s.s."

Troy stuck his face in Ray's. "You think that sonofab.i.t.c.h can kick my a.s.s? No way. I'll be doing the a.s.s kicking, by G.o.d. You should've let me do it tonight."

"You mean the way you were when we pulled Austin off you?" Ray hated to rub it in, but somebody had to wake this guy up. "Austin didn't survive ten years in prison without learning a few things. You'd better think about that before you start anything else with him."

Ray ignored the rage flashing in Troy's eyes. He'd cleaned up, but his nose was probably broken. He refused to go to the hospital. Keith, however, was almost too calm.

"Now, I'm going to ask you this one more time," Ray warned, hoping he'd get a straight answer. "Did either of you have anything to do with that fire or the vandalism? You both swore you had nothing to do with the vandalism and we found no evidence to the contrary, but I need to know. As a friend," he tacked on. "No use wasting resources looking for perps if I've got 'em right here in front of me."

Troy's mouth twisted with the words he no doubt wanted to hurl at Ray; then he relaxed visibly and spoke with amazing calm. "All right, I admit it. I busted up the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's s.h.i.t. But I didn't start the G.o.dd.a.m.n fire. I'm just sorry as h.e.l.l he didn't b.u.m in it."

Keith rested his head in his hands. "Dammit, Troy, what the h.e.l.l are you thinking?"

Ray exhaled a fraction of his frustration as he shook his head with utter exhaustion. "What about you, Keith? You have anything to do with any of this?"

"I heard about the fire on the newsa""

"He's a p.u.s.s.y," Troy snarled. "He ain't done s.h.i.t. Trust me on that. What I wanna know is," he bent down and flattened his palms on the table so he could glare directly at Ray, "are you gonna charge Austin for a.s.sault? We got plenty of witnesses. He went after Larry when your own deputies were attempting to load him into the squad car. Larry's face is in worse shape than mine. That's a parole violation."

"I figure you're even."

"What?" Troy's outrage overtook his good sense again. He reared back, his hands now clenched into fists at his sides. "You're gonna just let him get away with this s.h.i.t?"

"As far as what he did to you and Medford, you were on his property. You goaded him into the incident." Ray held up a hand when Troy would have started shouting again. "We'll just call it even on the parole violation."

Before Troy could go off, Keith asked, "Even how?"

"Since you guys got away with running Clint off the road and trashing his place, he'll get by with a.s.sault. Any more questions?" Did they really think he wouldn't hear about the incident on Highway 18? Guys like Troy, good guys at heart, couldn't keep that kind of thing a secret.

"This is not over," Troy threatened.

Ray got up, opened the door. "It is over. Now go. Before I change my mind and keep you overnight." Violet was waiting to drive them both home. Ray looked each man in the eye as one then the other moved toward the door. "The law took care of the beef you have with Austin ten years ago, in case you haven't noticed. Anything you do now is only going to hurt you and your families."

Troy banged his fist against the wall before storming out. Keith glanced at Ray, his gaze steeped with regret, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Ray'd had enough. More than enough. This had to end.

The fire at Clint's house and keeping the peace was enough on Ray's plate just now. He didn't need Troy and his buddies acting up. The past was history. Over. There was nothing anyone could do to change it. No amount of digging around in it or pilfering through files would bring back Heather Baker. And it sure as h.e.l.l wouldn't give Clint his life back.

What was done, was done.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.

Valley Inn Sunday, July 21, 8:00 a. m.

Emily was going to Ray with her suspicions.

Sidney Fairgate, if he could be trusted at all, had pretty much verified Clint's alibi. The revelation forced her to understand just how significant this secret her father carried was. Just how life altering.

Why would he let an innocent man go to prison?

Her father wasn't like that.

Those unpleasant moments from last night kept elbowing into her thoughts. Reminding her that her parents and everyone else she'd ever cared about around this town were disappointed in her... had been hurt by her actions. And would only be hurt further by what she was about to do.

But she had to do the right thing. Heather's killer was out there somewhere. If Clint Austin was innocent, and it sure looked that way, he deserved to have his name cleared. The whole community deserved the truth.

That Clint had gone after Larry Medford last night in Emily's defense had made her remember more of those feelings she didn't want to recall. The way he'd made her melt with just a look... before all the pain and tragedy. The way he moved, his smile, his voice, every single thing about him, had made her want him back then.

Made her want him now.

She couldn't even close her eyes without that raging fire at his house haunting her. Without seeing his face as he watched everything in his world go up in flames. He'd suffered and she was more to blame than all the others put together.

She almost didn't notice the tap on her door.

Before she even looked she knew who it wouldn't be. Not any of her friends, because she no longer had any friends. Not her parents, because they had likely disowned her.

Maybe one of her new friends, Fairgate or Austin?

Emily adjusted her blouse, smoothed her skirt, and took a breath. Might as well get it over with.

She checked the peephole. Her father. She drew back, wrenched the door open in one continuous action.

"Dad? Is everything all right?"

Her heart b.u.mped her rib cage. The urge to cry came from nowhere. What if her mother was ill? What if it was Emily's fault? G.o.d, she'd already hurt them so much. The air snagged in her raw throat. What if her brother had been in an accident?

"I need to speak with you, Em."

The defeat in his voice and in his eyes, now that she looked, made her desperate to fix this whole mess somehow.

"Come in." She stepped back, to give him room to pa.s.s, then closed the door. That he carried her overnight bag registered. Was he bringing her things to her so she wouldn't have a reason to come back home?

"I thought you might need these." He set the bag on the chair by the window.

She managed a strained up-and-down motion of her head. "Thank you."

He was dressed for church, with his navy trousers and crisp white shirt and the striped tie her mother had most certainly selected. Ed Wallace could not coordinate colors to save his soul.

"Ray called me this morning and told me what happened last night."

Emily winced inwardly. After Troy ranting at her right in their own front yard, hearing more of the same from Ray had to be hard to take. She was doing it again. Making her family miserable.

Her father gestured helplessly as if he wasn't sure how to proceed. "Between you going into that burning house and what Ray told me, your mother and I havea""

"Dad," she stopped him, "I'm really sorrya""

He put his hand on her arm to quiet her. "I need to finish this. I've put it off too long in hopes of sparing you the fresh hurt."

The anguish on his face made her want to weep for all the damage she'd done. She was certain whatever her father had done he'd only done to protect her.

"It was Homer Jenkins," he began. "He was the one who recommended Fairgate to me."

The antic.i.p.ation she'd expected to feel when her father finally gave her the truth was glaringly absent. She felt cold and afraid. She wanted to ask her father to sit down, but she didn't dare move or speak for fear of somehow altering the momentum of the moment.

"I had gotten into trouble that year," he went on, his eyes distant as if he were reliving those days ... mentally filtering through the events that had led up to his decision. "We would have lost everything. Going to Fairgate was my only option. So I took Homer's advice."

A divorced, good-hearted man of about fifty at the time, Homer Jenkins had been the neighbor on Emily's side of the house on Ivy Lane. It was his car that Clint Austin had insisted he'd been attempting to steal that night.

Emily hated that her father had to relive that awful time ... but she had to know. This terrible secret had been buried too long.

"Fairgate lent me the money. At the time I was so glad, I didn't consider how a man like him might want his repayment." Her father's white-clad shoulders lifted and fell listlessly. "It only mattered that we could hang on to our home for a while longer.

"When it was time to repay him, the debt was four times what I had borrowed. I couldn't pay all of it... not even after months of unparalleled investment returns. I simply didn't have it. I went to him... that day..."

Emily felt herself wilting, unsure she could hold up beneath the weight of guilt growing heavier as what Sid Fairgate had told her was corroborated. What had they done?