They dug for another four hours, until dust and sweat ran down their faces in rivulets. By midmorning, the rest of the Barkers appeared. Even Vicki Nibley placed a call to Chief McCormick, throwing her weight behind getting the backhoe Joe wanted. That came at noon. But they found nothing. By the time Grace heard Madeline running down the drive, the police were packing up.
“Word’s all over town that the police have found a body here,” she gasped. “What’s going on?”
Grace was too tired and numb to answer.
“You can’t find something that isn’t here,” Clay said.
Hendricks wiped the sweat from his forehead. “The only thing we’ve got is your father’s Bible,” he said to Madeline. “Joe claims it was out by Pickwick Lake.”
“Where Grace and Kennedy buried it when they went camping recently,” Joe inserted.
Madeline’s eyes filled with tears as Joe handed her the Bible. She gently touched the inscription, then turned to Grace for an explanation. But it was Kennedy who answered—by speaking to Joe. “You were there, too, Joe.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you must have buried it.”
“What?”
“I don’t know how else it could’ve gotten there,” Kennedy said. “If we’d found it, we would’ve given it to Madeline immediately, right, Grace?”
“Right,” Grace murmured. She knew she should probably make more of an effort to convince her stepsister. Poor Maddy looked thunderstruck. But Grace couldn’t get beyond her own shock. Where were Barker’s remains? The police should’ve discovered them.
Unless…
She glanced up to find Clay watching her, and that was when she realized. He’d moved them. She didn’t know how or when—and she certainly didn’t know where—but they were gone because of him.
Forever the Guardian…
“Your cousin found Grace out here with a flashlight and a shovel,” McCormick told Madeline. “He thought she might be trying to move whatever’s left of your father.”
“A flashlight and a shovel?” Once again, Madeline’s gaze moved expectantly to Grace.
Grace glanced guiltily at Clay—silently sending him an apology, as well—and gave the only excuse that might be believed. “I—I just wanted to make sure that what I’ve heard for so long isn’t true.”
“That mom or Clay might have killed Dad?” Madeline asked, her jaw sagging.
Grace stared at the ground. “I know. I feel silly. But everyone in this town seems so positive, and…it finally got the better of me. I want to know what happened. I can’t take the questions anymore.”
“Grace…” Madeline reached for her hand. “I understand completely. It’s so hard. But you can’t lose faith. I know Clay and Mom would never hurt anyone.”
“Then you don’t know them as well as you think,” Joe snorted.
Madeline turned on him. “You found nothing. Doesn’t that send any kind of signal to your pea-sized brain?”
“Yeah, that we’re looking in the wrong place!”
“I’d know if these people were capable of what you suspect, Joe. I lived with them. I grew up with them.”
“Somebody had to have done something,” he retorted.
“Regardless, we had to check,” McCormick said, almost apologetically, and Grace wondered if he was trying to explain his position to her mother.
“Don’t waste your time here,” Madeline replied. “Get out and look for the real culprit instead of harassing the people I love. Look what you’ve done to Grace. You have her doubting her own family. But you’re not going to do the same to me. I’ve already lost my father. I won’t lose anyone else!”
The tears that were streaming down Madeline’s cheeks made Grace feel terrible. As she started to comfort her stepsister, Kennedy whispered, “Some lies are blessings,” and she understood what he meant. Guilty though she felt, telling the truth wouldn’t solve anything. It would only destroy the most important relationships Madeline had left.
“It’s going to be okay,” Grace said, hugging her stepsister. “I made a mistake. But they’re all done digging. It’s over.”
“You satisfied?” McCormick asked Joe.
“No, we need to look elsewhere,” he said. “We’re missing something. I know it.”
McCormick picked up a shovel and slung it over one shoulder. “We’ve torn this place apart. Your uncle isn’t here.”
Joe cut him off before he could take two steps. “He is here. He’s probably right under our noses!”
“If you know where his grave is, then by all means show us,” McCormick challenged. He waved a hand at the disturbed dirt. But when Joe couldn’t pinpoint a spot, he walked away.
Joe’s eyes darted to the cotton fields, the barn, the house. “What about the Bible? Kennedy knows more than he’s saying about this whole thing or he wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to hide it.”
McCormick whirled on him. “Now you think Kennedy Archer’s involved?”
“He is!” Joe insisted.
“Do I have to remind you that his father is the mayor of this town? Otis has called me twice this morning to tell me I’d better watch my step. He won’t stand by while I slander his son.”
“No one’s slandering anyone,” Joe argued.
“You can’t go around accusing innocent people of covering up a murder, Joe,” McCormick shouted. “Not unless you have proof.”
In the ensuing silence, everyone looked at everyone else. Joe flushed red, but the stubborn set of his jaw said he wasn’t about to give up yet. “The Bible is evidence.”
McCormick’s hands curled into fists and he stepped right up to Joe. “Of what, exactly? Finding that Bible off in the woods somewhere tells us nothing—except that maybe we’re digging in the wrong place.”
Joe pointed at Kennedy. “Ask him where it came from, okay? Just ask him.”
The police chief rubbed his neck as if trying to ease the tension there. He seemed to consider Joe’s request, reject it, then entertain the idea again. “Kennedy, any chance you want to answer that?” he asked at last.
Kennedy shrugged. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
“That’s what I thought.” McCormick motioned to his men. “Put everything back as close to the way it was as possible. Let’s get out of here while we still have our jobs.”