Read Online Dead Silence by Brenda Novak - Free Book Online

of the pizza parlor. “Does she realize you’re my son?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Has she said anything about me?”
    “No.”
    “Okay, you can mow the lawn, but don’t go inside the house.”
    “Why not?”
    “That’s the rule. Either obey it or stay completely away.”
    “What about my cookies?”
    “She can give them to you at the door, okay?”
    There was a moment of silence, but Teddy sounded somewhat mollified when he answered. “Okay. I left her a note. I bet she’ll have them for me tomorrow.”
    “Will you bring me one, too?” Kennedy asked.
    “Cookies have carbs, Dad,” Teddy replied.
    Kennedy chuckled. “Do you even know what carbs are?”
    “No, but Grandma does. She hates them.”
    “That’s because she’s watching her weight.”
    “Mom used to make the best cookies,” Heath said.
    Kennedy heard the melancholy in his son’s voice and felt the familiar weight of his loss. Heath and Teddy missed their mother terribly. Kennedy missed Raelynn, too. He missed her fingers curling through his hair, her laugh, her presence in their home. He also missed not having to deal with his overbearing mother on a daily basis.
    “I’ll get you both one,” Teddy said softly.
    Again, Kennedy remembered the look Grace had given him. “Just don’t mention that one of them is for me,” he added with a rueful laugh.

4
    “S o…tell her,” Madeline prompted, nudging Kirk Vantassel’s foot with her own.
    They were sitting around the coffee table in the living room, relaxing after the impromptu dinner Grace had served—chicken and pasta with a green salad and sourdough rolls. Kirk had brought over some Vicki Nibley for Mayor signs, and Madeline had made a big deal about what traitors they were not to support the candidate endorsed by her paper. Kirk admitted he didn’t have strong political views. He said he was just trying to help his father get a date with Vicki, who’d been a widow for nearly five years. His reasoning made Grace laugh. But now that Madeline was changing the subject, she felt a measure of unease trickle through her veins. Grace knew from their earlier conversation that her stepsister was leading them straight to the topic she least wanted to discuss.
    “Tell her what?” he asked, sprawled out on one end of Grace’s plush, olive-colored sofa.
    An illegitimate baby, Kirk had been raised by his grandmother in the small brick house next to the library on First Street, until his father was old enough to take him. Because he was eight years older than Grace, she hadn’t had much contact with him whenshe lived in Stillwater. But she’d always liked him. He was the strong silent type, immovable in his loyalties and affections. And he wasn’t bad-looking. He had a crooked nose—something he’d acquired playing football—and fine brown hair that lacked body. A pair of intense brown eyes easily redeemed his appearance, however. And he had great hands. Large and masculine, with plenty of nicks and gouges from his work as a roofing contractor, they were very different from George’s long, narrow fingers and perfectly manicured nails.
    “Tell her what you heard at the tavern last night. I didn’t bring you over here just so you could wolf down two plates of pasta,” Madeline teased, pulling her long auburn hair over one shoulder.
    Picking up her wineglass from the table, Grace stood and crossed the room to stare out the front window. Barker would never be forgotten, she thought bitterly. Even after eighteen years, it seemed that every conversation, at least with anyone remotely connected to Stillwater, included him—if not directly, then in some kind of subtext.
    “I ran into Matt Howton,” Kirk said.
    Grace sipped her wine. “ Matt? I don’t recall him.”
    “He’s John Howton’s oldest. Tall, skinny guy, about twenty-three. Works for Jed Fowler down at the auto shop.”
    At the mention of Jed Fowler, tension knotted the muscles in Grace’s back and shoulders. “What did