And he hated the thought of her being mistreated, which would surely happen if she continued to take his side.
Rotating the shoulder of his hurt arm, he pinched the site of his bullet wound to stop the unmerciful itching that had started this morning. It was healing well, but the situation could've been very different. There were those who hated him and everyone associated with him. His sisters and mother couldn't change their affiliation, of course. But Allie could. If he was locked up, he'd be unable to protect her. She probably understood that, but he doubted she understood how important it was to him to keep her safe. He didn't want to drag her down with him.
That was the worst part of jail, he decided. It wasn't the luxuries and comforts he was missing. It was being so damn helpless. He could do nothing to insure the happiness of those he loved, and after so long he didn't know how to live for anything else.
"Grace had better do as I told her," he muttered, rolling off the bed to walk around his cell.
He'd instructed his sister to tell Allie to get a real job, that Clay didn't want anything to do with her.
He knew he was being harsh, but he had to be harsh. Otherwise, Allie wouldn't listen. And the momentary sting those words might cause would be infinitely kinder than screwing up her life. Let her make up with her folks, go back to the force, find a suitable father for Whitney. A man who could give her everything Clay couldn't.
For a moment, Clay let himself imagine being that man. Coming in from the farm to sleep with her at night. Helping raise her little girl. Making Allie pregnant with his own child.
With a faint smile, he remembered the red-faced bundle that was Grace's baby, Lauren, and the way Lauren had turned her tiny mouth toward him when he'd touched her cheek. Holding that baby had shown him, more clearly than ever, exactly what was important in life. Most men took their ability, their right, to have a family for granted. They had no idea how badly they'd want that if they couldn't have it.
Regardless of his future, Clay wanted a good life for Allie. But he had a feeling Grace wouldn't deliver his message. His sister was stronger now than she'd ever been, more confident in her own decisions. For some reason, she thought Allie's participation might make a difference.
Grace was going to give his defense everything she had--and that included Allie, whether he liked it or not.
Chapter 18
Joe usually spent Saturday evenings drinking with his buddies. According to his ex-wife, he drank too much. But tonight, Allie was grateful for his rather reliable interest in heading to the pool hall. As she stood with her back to the fence behind Stillwater Sand and Gravel and gazed through the trees, she could see that the house his parents provided for him was completely dark.
Leaving her car, which she'd hidden among the giant piles of sand and rock crowding the machinery, Allie moved closer. She didn't feel particularly good about breaking and entering. But she didn't see that she had any better choice. Before coming over here, she'd called Hendricks and tried the sheriff's department, and they'd simply referred her back to her father.
Wearing tennis shoes, jeans and a dark shirt, Allie slipped through the tall white ash and silver maple trees that lined the back of Joe's yard and approached the screened-in porch. She had a flashlight, but she didn't want to use it until she was inside. Fortunately, the moon was nearly full, so she could make out most objects in her path. She just hoped Joe didn't have a dog.
Reaching the back of the house, Allie stood by the screen and listened carefully for any noises from inside.
The night was as quiet as it was still.
He's gone. She tried to open the screen door.
It was locked.
Cursing under her breath, Allie began to dig through the large canvas bag she'd brought with her. She'd put a small knife in there, as well as her flashlight and some other tools. She could slice a hole in the screen, reach through and unlatch the old-fashioned catch. But she abandoned that plan almost as soon as she thought of it. If Joe spotted the hole later, he might become suspicious, and she didn't see any reason to give her little search away, especially if she didn't have to. Surely she could find an open window somewhere. Few people in Stillwater bothered with tight security. And the month of June was already upon them, with its oppressive heat and humidity.
Wiping the nervous perspiration from her top lip, she began to circle the house. She didn't find anything very hopeful on the first floor, but a second-story window stood open. She guessed it was Joe's bedroom. She could see the curtains flutter ever so slightly and assumed he'd left a fan running.
The problem was getting up to that window without being seen from the street. It was at the front of the house, right above the porch and facing the highway; there were no trees to give her cover.
She bit her lip, trying to decide what to do. Did she cut the screen or try to climb up to the second story?
This time of night, there wasn't much traffic....
Seeing no cars in either direction, she pulled the strap of her bag over her head so she could wear it across her body and began to climb onto the porch railing. The trellis that continued up from there didn't seem too sturdy, but she was fairly certain it'd bear her weight. Once she was on the roof, getting to the window would be--The sound of an engine reached Allie's ears as she clung to the side of the house. She calculated how long it'd take her to get to the window and how long it'd take her to climb back down and decided she didn't have time to do either. That engine was growing louder by the second.
Forgetting her fear of falling, she scooted up the trellis, clambered onto the porch roof and lay flat. Cringing, she waited for the vehicle to pass.
But it didn't pass. It slowed and turned in at the driveway.
Joe was home.
Dammit! Allie held perfectly still as the engine died. Then the truck door opened and slammed, and footsteps approached the house. Keys jingled directly below her as Joe crossed the porch. She told herself to get the hell out of there as soon as he stepped inside the house. But that open window was only a few feet away. If he stayed downstairs for a few minutes, she could take a peek....
Gathering her nerve, she crawled over to the window and listened again, in case he had a dog. The sound of a television drifted up to her, but no barking, whining or thumping. No "hello pooch" from Joe.
Quickly climbing over the ledge, she dropped silently into a room that contained a whirring fan, a rumpled bed, a chest of drawers and a desk scattered with papers. His closet stood open and had dirty laundry spilling out of it; another foot of discarded clothing covered the floor.
Hurrying to the fan, Allie turned it off so she could hear if Joe came up the stairs. Then she pulled out her flashlight and used his desk chair to search the top shelves of the closet. She found a small bundle wrapped in a T-shirt that felt promising. But when she opened it, she discovered a bunch of sex toys, including a giant vibrator and some S&M paraphernalia.