Dead Right by Brenda Novak

disappeared?”
    She lowered the volume on the radio. “I owe you an apology,” she said stiffly. “I’ve been trying to formulate it for the past fifteen miles, but I’m not really myself right now. And I have no explanation for my poor behavior except—there’s a lot riding on this for me, you know?”
    He didn’t want her to apologize. Then he couldn’t hold her comments against her. “Not the best apology I’ve ever received,” he said, although it’d sounded sincere.
    â€œSo you won’t forgive me?”
    The entreaty in her voice made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time—genuine compassion. She was so exhausted. He could hear it in the way she talked, see it in the way she moved. Still, he didn’t want to experience her pain; he had enough of his own.
    â€œGive me some background on your father,” he said instead of addressing the question.
    â€œWhere should I start?”
    â€œWhat was his name?”
    â€œLee Barker.”
    â€œWhat did he do for a living?”
    â€œHe was a pastor, very devout, but also popular.”
    â€œWhen and where was he last seen?”
    Lightning flashed, illuminating the silvery glow of the rain-slicked hood as well as Madeline’s classic profile. “It’ll be twenty years on October fourth. He went to church to meet with a couple of ladies who were planning a youth activity, and he never came home.”
    He refused to consider the emotional consequences of what she’d been through. Distance—that was his first priority. Solving this case came second. “Has someone checked out these ladies?” He knew it was probably a stupid question, but he had to begin at the beginning. Being methodical kept his focus where he wanted it to be—on the facts.
    â€œOf course. Nora Young and Rachel Cook would never hurt anyone, least of all my father. They idolized him. Imagine Aunt Bea on the Andy Griffith Show and you’ll have some idea of what these ladies are like.”
    â€œYou mentioned a stepmother on the phone. Where was your real mother when this occurred?” he asked. When one spouse went missing, the other, or an ex, was frequently to blame. Before he started investigating the stepmom, he needed to rule out the first Mrs. Barker.
    But that was easier than he’d expected.
    â€œDead,” Madeline said.
    He watched her closely, trying to gauge her reaction. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    She didn’t respond.
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œShe shot herself with my father’s gun.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œI was ten.”
    He flinched in spite of himself. “Who found her?”
    Madeline’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “I did.”
    Shit… He didn’t know what to say. She’d been through so much.
    But sad as her story was, her pain didn’t have to be his pain, he reminded himself. She didn’t need him to save her. She was just a client—a beautiful client, but a client nonetheless.
    â€œI’d come home from school and wanted to show her my report card,” she went on in a monotone. “My father sent me in to wake her from a nap and—” her voice quavered “—and there she was.”
    Distance, remember? “Your father hadn’t heard the shot?” he prompted softly. Maybe it was insensitive to ask, but he had to learn all he could about Madeline Barker and her history. It was the best way to solve her father’s murder, which he intended to do as quickly aspossible—before he could find too many things to like about her. Besides her looks, of course.
    â€œNo. She did it while he was out working on the farm. He saw me get off the bus and followed me to the house.”
    â€œHow long after your mother’s death did your father go missing?” he asked.
    â€œSix years. We managed on our own for three. Then my father met