MacDuff jumped up and wagged his stubby tail to welcome her home. Dylan would have wagged his if he had one.
He stood and opened the door for her. “By the time I got finished with the investigators, it was too late to get to the game.”
Fluttering her lashes, she hid whatever expression they might contain. “So you’re staying the night?”
“If you don’t mind.” He’d appreciate a sign of some sort.
“I guess it’s fine.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Gracie headed toward the bedroom, but Dylan spun her around and into his arms. To hell with waiting for a sign. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind.” She ducked her head.
“Let me see.” He leaned forward for a welcome-home kiss that could become a habit. Her warm response laid his worry to rest, and he sighed with relief. “I guess you really don’t.”
“Told you.”
He clasped his hands behind her back, holding her hips against his. “Where’ve you been? Did your grandfather come home? Did you see Clay?”
“Lots of places, yes and yes.” She pulled away from him. “In fact, I was there when Fleming asked Granddad about the chisel. Remember when he told us yesterday about going to the factory to get some tools the night Lana disappeared?”
“Sure.” Dylan followed Gracie into the kitchen where she grabbed two bottles of water out of the refrigerator. He liked her warm and eager smile as she took a seat at the table, practically glowing in a little patch of sunlight beaming through the window.
“That chisel was one of the tools he went to get that night, and it was missing from his workbench.”
“Is he sure he didn’t lose it before that?” MacDuff trotted over and dropped a ball by Dylan’s feet. He tossed it across the room. “I mean, with all due respect, how does he remember one specific tool after all this time?”
“Most carpenters are obsessive about their equipment. Granddad can tell you how, when, and where he acquired every tool in his workshop. The chisel had belonged to his father and grandfather before him, so he’s not likely to be mistaken about it.” The Scottie brought the ball to her, and she rolled it into the other room. “Did you find out anything about the cuff link?”
He wished she hadn’t asked about that. “I didn’t try.”
“Too busy?”
“Gracie...” He scratched MacDuff’s belly, putting his thoughts in order before answering. “I’m pretty sure it belonged to my dad, but I don’t want to jump to any conclusions.” His mother had given him his father’s jewelry case about a month before her death. He’d noticed then that one of his father’s cuff links was missing. He picked up the ball and tossed it away again while he waited for Gracie’s reaction.
She rotated her bottle on the table, leaving interlocking rings of condensation. “Did your father wear them very often?”
He shrugged. “I don’t really remember. He had them on in a lot of pictures I’ve seen.”
“That’s just what I was thinking about. Pictures.” Gracie hopped up and retrieved the purse she’d hung on a peg inside the door. “Gran and I printed this for you earlier.” She opened an envelope and pulled out the contents. “It’s the photo of your dad with me and Cuddles. Are these the same cuff links?”
Dylan took the photo from her. “Yes!” Relief surged through him. “If this was taken the day he died—”
“It was the week after Lana disappeared,” Gracie finished for him, her face alight with pleasure. “So the cuff link from the cellar can’t be his!”
His relief died quickly as reality nudged it aside. There were still too many ties between his dad and Lana to dismiss them all. “Right, but this doesn’t exonerate him, either. I mean, if he had these on the day he died, why was there only one in his jewelry case?”
“It’s been twenty-five years. The missing one could have been lost in any number of ways. Are you sure it hasn’t slipped under the lining of the case or something? Or maybe someone else took it out, or it got misplaced.”
“I don’t know.” Running his hand through his hair, he tried to think clearly and fit some of the other pieces of the puzzle into place. If the cuff link didn’t belong to his dad, which family member did it belong to?
“Why didn’t you tell Chief Fleming about the missing link?”
“It’s hard enough trying to imagine that Dad fathered an illegitimate child. I could never believe he murdered anyone, and I refuse to let anyone else consider it either.”
Gracie opened her mouth, stopped, and left him waiting on an awkward pause while she chewed on her bottom lip. “David thinks your father was responsible for Lana’s disappearance.”
His back teeth nearly cracked as he gritted them together. “Why does he think that?”
“Hmm, well...” She stalled again. “I didn’t know this until today, and I don’t think Clay knows either, but David let it slip that... That Lana was pregnant at the time of her death.”
“Are you serious?” He whooped with delight as he jumped up, lifted Gracie from her chair, and swung her in a circle “Pregnant! That’s great.”
“Great? Why is it great?” she asked when he lowered her to the floor. “I thought you’d be upset.”
He hugged her tightly. “I still don’t know who Clayton’s father was, but Lana definitely wasn’t pregnant with my father’s baby when she died.”
He smiled and resumed his seat, pulling Gracie into his lap. “My mother had a miscarriage a couple of years after I was born. Her doctor said she shouldn’t have any more children. Dad had a vasectomy before she even came home from the hospital while she was still agreeable to the idea.”
Gracie absorbed this information with a nod and a question. “How do you know this? Weren’t you just a toddler when she had the miscarriage?”
“Yes, but Mother told me and Natalie about it after Josh was born. Mother was crazy about kids, and we asked her why she and Dad didn’t have more children.”
“So if the father of Lana’s unborn child killed her,” Gracie mused, “it couldn’t have been your father.”
“Right.” He smiled and kissed her.
His cabin had burned down. His dad wasn’t off the paternity hook for Clayton yet. Reporters could show up to badger Gracie at any minute. And someone might be trying to kill him. But here in Gracie’s apartment, none of that seemed as hopeless as it should. Dylan had found his happy place. Holding her in his arms, he felt confident they’d discover answers to all their questions before too much longer.
“We’ve gotten off track again,” she said. “We’re trying to discover if he’s Clay’s father, not whether he killed Lana.”
“Sometimes more immediate goals rear their ugly heads. Thank God, we can lay this one to rest.” He stretched his feet out in front of him, cuddled Gracie closer, and contemplated the best news he’d had all day.
Before he got too comfortable, she pulled away. “What’re you going to do now? I’m due at the Festival at six, but Gran and Granddad will be home if you want to stay over there.”
“I’ll go with you.” He checked the time. “Is there anything else we need to talk about now or can I jump in the shower?”
She tapped a finger against her chin, her eyes twinkling. “I wouldn’t recommend jumping in the shower. That can be dangerous.”
His gaze swept over her, and the heat that had been simmering all day bubbled to the surface. “You can come along and hold my hand.”
“Hand, hell,” she objected, undressing on the way. “That’s not what I’ll be holding.”
After a steamy, stimulating, and vigorous shower, Gracie left Dylan in the living room engrossed in his laptop. She crossed the yard, letting herself in the back door of Liberty House.
Gran’s voice could be heard from the formal living room, chatting with the first weekend guests. Gracie slipped into her grandparents’ private den. Her grandfather sat propped up on the sofa, whittling and watching the local news.