He slung an arm over the steering wheel in the most careless pose he could summon. "You don't?"
"Not for a minute."
Clay wasn't sure how to respond. Most people took him at his word. But he was quickly finding that Allie wasn't like most people. She knew he might be involved in a murder, was moving forward with an investigation that would include him at some point, and yet she treated him fairly. Innocent until proven guilty. She hadn't automatically assumed the worst the other night, although the situation couldn't have reflected favorably on him--or Beth Ann, either. And, earlier at the pool hall, she hadn't let Joe intimidate her into avoiding him.
She was trying to give him the benefit of every doubt, reserving judgment, relying on facts instead of prejudice.
In a way, he appreciated her generosity; in another way, he resented it. Because now he had something to lose.
"It's been a long time since he was part of my life," he said, trying to suggest that what he felt about Lucas was unimportant.
"I can get a few more details about him when he calls me, if you want," she offered. "I could even give you his number."
"No." He pulled to the side of the road in front of her house. The porch light on Chief McCormick's long brick rambler glowed yellow across the sloping lawn, but the rest of the house was dark. The cars in the driveway, and the knowledge that Allie's parents were asleep inside, made him feel sixteen again, as if he were dropping off a date.
"Maybe he misses you, too, Clay," she said.
"He couldn't miss me too badly, could he?"
She didn't respond, so he continued, "Anyway, as far as I'm concerned, he's no longer my father. I certainly don't want anyone to engineer some sort of reunion."
She nodded. "Okay. Let me know if you change your mind."
Clay almost asked her not to talk to Lucas if he called. But now that she'd already left a message, he feared that pressing the issue would only raise Allie's suspicions. Why had his mother given the man who'd triggered all the terrible events of the past a chance to destroy their future, as well?
Clay wanted to be angry with Irene, but if Lucas had called him, he might've been tempted to reveal just as much. Lucas could win anyone's confidence. His problem was that he couldn't live up to the promises he made.
And that might prove true once again.
"Good night," Clay said as Allie opened the door to climb out.
Her lips curved in a sympathetic smile. "It's his loss, Clay."
"Don't."
Her eyes widened. "Don't what?"
"Pity me." He turned to look at her. "Love me or hate me. But don't pity me."
She rubbed her arms. She hadn't brought a coat. "Interesting choice," she said and shut the door.
"How'd it go last night?"
Allie's mother sat beside her father at the breakfast table, drinking a cup of coffee. Evelyn was wearing a bathrobe and slippers, but Dale was dressed in the clothes he wore to mow the lawn.
His reading glasses were perched on the end of his nose and he was skimming the newspaper while doing his best to ignore Whitney, who kept yelling, "Jump in!" and tossing her Barbies into the kitchen sink.
"Aren't you going to answer your mother?" he asked when Allie didn't say anything.
"It was fine," she said. She hoped to minimize the fact that she'd even gone out. She'd asked her mother to babysit so she could do some investigative work. Instead, she'd let loose and simply had fun. She'd rather not analyze why, but she knew it had a lot to do with how she felt when she was around Clay.
"That's it?" Evelyn said. "Just fine? "
Allie shrugged, feeling uncomfortable beneath the pointed stare of her father. "Pretty much."
"Where's your car?" he asked solemnly, angling his head to see her more clearly over his glasses.
Her parents had always watched her closely. It came with being the daughter of a cop. But she hadn't expected her father to resume the old watch now that she was thirty-three. "I see you're still on your toes," she said wryly.
"I had some caulking to do in the shed earlier."
"Right." She drummed her fingers on the table. "What time did I get in?"
"Two."
"Two what?"
"Two-thirteen."
She chuckled. "Some things never change."
"But I don't want to go swimming," Whitney said in a high-pitched voice, posing a Barbie on the edge of the sink.
Dale leaned forward. "Where's your car?"
"It's at the pool hall," she said as indifferently as possible.
"What's it doing there?"
She lowered her voice. "I didn't want to drive."
This explanation met with a moment's silence, enough to tell Allie her parents didn't approve.
"You weren't drunk!" her mother whispered, sounding horrified.
" Buzzed would be a better word. But before you start to panic, let me assure you that one night does not constitute a problem."
Evelyn's forehead wrinkled in concern. "I don't understand why you'd drink so much.
Ever."
"I was tired so I took some No-Doz to help me stay awake. It didn't mix well with beer.
That's all."
"And you thought it would?" she asked as if such a flimsy excuse made it even worse.
"At least I didn't try to drive," Allie said, hoping they'd see that as something positive. But they weren't so easy to console.
"Who were you drinking with?" her father asked.
They'd finally arrived at the inevitable question. Allie took a deep breath, because she knew her parents wouldn't like this answer any more than they had the others. "Madeline Barker.
Kirk Vantassel. And Clay."
"Montgomery?" her father bellowed.
Whitney dropped her Barbies and turned to watch the drama unfolding at the table. Allie wanted to tell Dale to calm down, but she had her mouth full and couldn't speak. She'd taken a big spoonful of cereal in an attempt to act nonchalant, as if she expected Evelyn and Dale to react no differently to Clay's name than to the others. But her ploy hadn't worked.
"Tell me it's not true," her mother said.
Allie managed to swallow "It's true."
"I've never known you to be a drinker."
"I'm not."
"Yet the first time you go out with Clay, you come home after two in the morning, drunk."
"Stop it! You--it's not how you're making it sound. I was tired, but Madeline said Clay would be at the pool hall, and I wanted to ask him a few questions about Barker's disappearance.