Dead Giveaway by Brenda Novak Page A

been unable to break. That was the nature of the business. She’d mentioned those statistics when she’d granted Madeline the interview for the paper, had talked about evidence that was often too degraded to use and key witnesses who’d died or could no longer remember what they’d seen or heard. But Madeline had focused on Allie’s successes. Apparently Madeline’s five-part series would summarize some of her toughest cases, but only those that had a happy ending.
    Maybe Madeline needed to tell those stories to bolster her faith that she’d eventually find the resolution she sought.
    â€œI’ll do my best,” she said again.
    â€œI know you will. Anyway, I have another question for you.”
    Allie rolled closer to her father’s desk and glanced idly through his Rolodex. “What’s up?”
    â€œAre you working tonight?”
    â€œNo, why?” She stopped at the number for a Corinth florist written in her father’s hand. She’d never known him to order flowers. He was too practical. Had someone died? No one close to them. And if it was a professional acquaintance, her father would’ve handled it at the station….
    â€œI was hoping you might be interested in going out dancing or playing pool tonight.”
    As she considered Madeline’s invitation, Allie continued to flip through the small cards. She liked Madeline a lot and ordinarily would’ve jumped at the chance to go out with her. They’d sometimes hung out when they were kids. And although her two best friends from high schoolhad married and moved away shortly after she did, there were other people she remembered and wanted to see. So far, though, she’d been too busy moving, getting Whitney started in a new school and becoming familiar with her job.
    But she was so tired. “I would if I could keep my eyes open,” she said, covering a yawn. “I’m still getting used to working graveyard.”
    â€œReally?” Madeline seemed genuinely disappointed. “Clay was hoping you could make it.”
    â€œClay?” she repeated, nearly choking on the name.
    â€œHe called me a few minutes ago and asked me to invite you.”
    Allie’s jaw dropped as she immediately conjured up an image of Clay—the image in the picture beneath her mattress. “Why would your brother want me there?”
    â€œHe said he’d like to get to know you, and maybe talk about Dad.”
    Dad… Madeline had said that as if Clay called Barker “Dad,” but he didn’t. At least not in front of Allie. Did he play it differently when he was with Madeline?
    It’d be interesting to watch the two of them together, Allie thought, when they were relaxed and didn’t feel they were under scrutiny. The way they interacted might tell her something about the case, certainly more than Clay intended to divulge.
    â€œIf he’s ready to share, I guess I’d better not miss out,” she said, reversing her earlier decision. “He’s not usually so open.”
    â€œNot to police officers in general, but that’s because they’re almost always prejudiced against him,” Madeline said, a defensive note creeping into her voice. “He’s not the one responsible for whatever happened to my father.”
    â€œYou’ve told me that before. But I can’t rule him out, Maddy.” Especially since Joe Vincelli and others claimed exactly the opposite. “I can’t rule anybody out. I have to keep an open mind. Otherwise, I won’t be any good to you.”
    Madeline seemed to struggle between loyalty and common sense.
    â€œTell me this,” Allie said softly.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIf it was Clay—”
    â€œIt’s not, ” she insisted. “Don’t listen to what people around here say. They don’t know him the way I do.”
    â€œI’m just asking— if it was —would you want to