The First Wife (22 page)

Bailey almost lost it on the drive’s last turn. She righted the vehicle, and eased
her foot off the accelerator.
Slow down, Bailey
. Ending up in a ditch wouldn’t help Raine. Or Logan.

Logan couldn’t lose his sister. He had lost too many loved ones already.

She reached Abbott Farm and drove through the gate. Paul stood at the barn’s entrance,
talking to August and one of the grooms. She stopped, lowered her window. “Paul!”

At the alarm in her voice, he came running.

“It’s Raine!” she cried. “She’s at Henry’s. She’s hysterical, talking crazy—”

“Logan’s at the house. Tell him I’m on my way.”

Bailey didn’t waste time with a reply. Two minutes later the house came into view
and she roared through the open gate. And stopped short, so short the seat belt snapped
hard against her chest.

Logan and Stephanie. They stood between their two vehicles, embracing.

They sprang apart and looked guiltily her way. Logan’s expression became concerned.
He was beside her in a flash. Opening the door, helping her out.

“Bailey, my God, what’s wrong?”

For a moment, she couldn’t find her voice. “I went to Henry’s … I saw—”

“Uncle Henry’s?” Stephanie said, voice unnaturally high. “Have you remembered something?”

She shook her head. “Raine’s”—she sucked in a deep breath—“she’s there. She’s hysterical.
I’m afraid she might try to—”

She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to; Logan understood. He started for the Porsche.

“I told Paul!” she called after him. “He’s on his way, too.”

Logan looked over his shoulder at Stephanie. “Keep an eye on her, would you? I’m starting
to think I can’t let her out of my sight.”

They watched him go, then Stephanie turned to her. “Believe it or not, Raine has a
highly developed sense of self-preservation. She’ll be fine.”

She must, Bailey thought. Otherwise, how could one survive in this family?

Bailey curved a hand protectively over her belly. Stephanie saw the movement and frowned.
“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Just winded.”

Stephanie cleared her throat. “I saw your face, when you got here. I hope you know
that was nothing. Logan and I have been friends for a long time.”

“I was surprised, that’s all.”

“We passed each other on the road and—”

“I’m not giving it a second thought.”

“He was telling me how sorry he was about Uncle Henry.”

“I’m sorry, too, Steph.” Bailey caught her hands and squeezed them. “I miss him. And
I’m so, so sorry I haven’t called—”

“I’m sorry I haven’t called you. Your head, does it hurt bad?”

Bailey instinctively reached up, touched the bandage. Suddenly realizing how much
it did hurt, right now. “Not as much as yesterday, but I could use a Tylenol.”

She frowned. “They didn’t give you anything stronger?”

“They can’t because of—”

She stopped. Stephanie’s frown deepened. “What?”

She hesitated, then smiled. She couldn’t help herself. “I’m pregnant, Steph.”

For the blink of an eye, Stephanie just stared at her. As if stunned silent. Then
she released a whoop of joy and hugged her. Bailey hugged her back. In moments they
were both in tears.

“I’m so happy for you.”

“We’re keeping it quiet for now—”

“I won’t say a word.”

“I’m so sorry about Henry—”

“I’m sorry. Your accident … I should have called—”

“No, I should have.”

Stephanie stepped away, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I feel like this is all
I’ve been doing. I need to stop.”

“You will. Give yourself time.”

Whatever Stephanie started to say was cut off by Tony sprinting through the back gate,
ears and tongue flying.

“Tony!” Bailey cried, and knelt to greet him. He launched himself at her, knocking
her onto her rear. In the next moment he was giving her big, slobbery kisses anywhere
he could reach.

Laughing, she managed to get back on her feet, at which point he ran three circles
around her, then took off after a butterfly.

“Surprise,” Stephanie said.

Bailey laughed again, using her sleeve to wipe her cheeks. “I’ve missed him.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I wondered if you’d like to keep him.”

“You mean, like forever?”

This time, Stephanie laughed. “Abbott Farm is his home. He’ll be happier here with
you, unless you don’t—”

“I do. Yes, definitely.” Bailey linked their arms. “I wasn’t kidding. I’ve really
missed him.”

“Good.”

They crossed to the kitchen door, Tony at their heels. Bailey fixed them both a glass
of water and they sat at the kitchen table. The sun filtered in from the courtyard,
creating bright patches on the weathered cypress tabletop. Bailey trailed her fingers
across one, enjoying the warmth.

“I heard you don’t remember what happened,” Stephanie said.

“From Billy Ray, no doubt.”

“I heard it from him first. But it’s all over Wholesome now. It’s true then?”

Bailey nodded and Stephanie went on. “He told me that you … that Uncle’s Henry’s blood
was on your jeans.”

“He told me the same thing.”

Stephanie leaned forward. “Do you think you saw what happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you could have.” She reached across the table and caught Bailey’s hands. “You
could have seen the shooter.”

“I could have, Steph, but I don’t think so.” She looked at their joined hands, then
back up at her friend. “That’s why I went out there today. To see if I could make
myself remember.”

“Bailey—” She hesitated, then began again. “I talked to you the day of the accident.”

“You did?”

“I called, asked if you could stop by and check on Henry. You said you were on your
way to the doctor.”

Bailey couldn’t hide her excitement. “Did I say what doctor or why I was going?”

She shook her head. “I was working, so we weren’t on but a minute or two. You promised
to stop by after your appointment, then call me later.”

“What time did we speak?”

“Around ten
A.M.
”

A timeline, Bailey thought. Maybe she could piece together what happened that way.

“And we didn’t speak again?”

“No.” She released Bailey’s hands and dropped hers to her lap. “I thought it was odd …
that maybe you’d had bad news at the doctor’s, or maybe that you’d just forgotten
about calling. Then I got busy giving riding lessons. Next thing I knew, the sheriff
was at my door.”

Bailey searched her memory and came up blank.

“The police are releasing the body tomorrow. I’m planning the funeral for Wednesday.”

Life. Death. Full circle in one week.

“You’ll be there, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Bailey paused. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Raine, just now … she was saying some things, awful things, about the family. She
said he killed her because she loved him. What did she mean?”

“It wasn’t about Logan, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Then who, Steph?”

“It’s not my story to tell—”

“Is it his dad?”

The look on her face was her answer. Bailey leaned forward, caught her hands. “Tell
me.”

“Like I said, it’s not my story to—”

“There are no pictures of him and Logan, nor anyone else, and he never talks about
him.”

Steph looked upset, indecisive. Bailey squeezed her hands. “Please.”

“Okay.” She drew a quick breath and let it out slowly. “I’ll leave it to Logan to
tell you everything. But the short version is that Logan’s dad killed his mother.”

Bailey went cold. “But she drowned— Wait, are you saying … he pushed her overboard?”

She was, but refused to say more. Within minutes, Bailey was walking her out to her
truck. Stephanie climbed in, then looked back at Bailey. “Talk to Logan.”

It will.

No wonder he didn’t tell me. But in a way I’m relieved. Things make sense now, some
things anyway. And certainly, Raine’s behavior.”

“Bailey, can I run something by you?”

“Sure.”

“It may sound crazy but I … I wondered if Billy Ray could’ve shot Henry himself.”

Bailey’s mouth dropped.

“I told you it was out there.”

“Why would he do that?”

“A death on Abbott property would bring renewed focus on Logan. An investigation.
And a reason for Billy Ray to have access to the farm.”

“Abbott Farm, that’s where all the bodies are buried.”

“Do you think I’m totally nuts?”

She met her gaze. “No. As weird as it might sound, I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Monday, April 21

6:10
P.M.

Bailey glanced at the kitchen clock. Logan had gone to check on Raine four or five
hours ago. She wondered what was happening, if Paul was still with him. If he needed
her.

It didn’t make sense that he had been gone so long.

Anxious, she started to pace. Again. Over the past hours she had alternated between
constant movement and no movement at all. Blank-stare time. Tony sensed her agitation
and watched, growling deep in his throat.

“I wondered if Billy Ray could’ve shot Henry himself.”

The thought made her feel sick. The realization that she actually thought it a possibility.
He’d said he’d do anything to gain access to Abbott Farm, murder definitely fell into
that category.

Bailey stopped pacing. She’d spoken to Stephanie the day of the accident. She’d been
on her way to a doctor’s appointment. In Covington. Logan hadn’t mentioned her being
ill, other than her injury and pregnancy—

Of course that’s where she must have been going. She must have missed a period and
gone to the doctor for a pregnancy test. Or to confirm the results of a drugstore
test she’d given herself at home.

She grabbed her cell phone and called up the calendar. Sure enough, there it was:
Dr. Ann Saunders. Wednesday, April sixteenth, at 10:30
A.M.
She did an Internet search of the doctor’s name, which confirmed her suspicion. Dr.
Ann Saunders was an OB/GYN.

She’d known she was pregnant before the accident.

But Logan hadn’t.

Even as an uneasy
why
wormed its way into her thoughts, Bailey assured herself she must have meant to tell
him after the doctor’s confirmation. She had wanted to be absolutely certain before
she said anything. To protect Logan. From the loss of it not being true.

She gazed down at that electronic calendar.
Clues to the events of the day leading up to her accident. Right in front of her.

Of course. Her phone and handbag. Her car. The clothes she’d been wearing.

Why hadn’t she thought of this before? Bailey scrolled forward and back in her smartphone
calendar. A follow-up appointment with Dr. Saunders.

Not much else. Her friend Marilyn’s birthday. A dinner party she and Logan had now
missed. Finding nothing else on the calendar, she moved on to the recent images on
the camera. Shot after shot of Tony, flowers, the countryside. Why had she taken so
many?

Bailey shoved it back into her pocket and went for her purse, dumped the contents
out on the kitchen table. She’d never been an organized type. Receipts, notes, grocery
lists, all stuffed into a pocket, flap or just tossed into her bag.

With trembling fingers, she started to go through them.

Tony announced Logan’s arrival home, and Bailey ran to meet him, excited to share
what she’d remembered and what Stephanie had told her. When she saw his face, the
words died on her lips. Exhaustion. Despair. As if the weight of the world—and everyone
in it—rested squarely on his shoulders. No, she thought, not the world, not everyone.
This family. His sister.

Bailey took him in her arms and held him. She couldn’t help thinking about his father,
what Stephanie had said he’d done. She held him tighter. He rested his head against
hers, the tension seeming to seep out of him as the seconds ticked past.

“I got her quieted down,” he said finally, softly. “I convinced her to let me take
her home.” He let out a long, weary-sounding breath. “I gave her a sedative. Waited
until she was asleep. Still—”

“What?”

“I was … afraid to go. To leave her alone.” He slipped his hand into his pocket, brought
out the vials of sedatives. “Put these someplace. I didn’t want to leave them there.”

Afraid Raine would deliberately overdose.
She took the vials, slipped them into her own pocket, then tipped her face up to
his. “She’ll be okay, Logan. Her grief will lessen and she’ll work through it.”

“I’m not so … she threatened it, killing herself. She has before, but this time—”
He bit it back and cupped her face in his hands. “I’m sorry that I brought you into
this sad family. Got you tangled up in our tragedies.”

“I’m not.” She searched his gaze and said it again, for emphasis. “I’m not. We’re
going to bring joy back. You and me.” She brought his right hand to her belly. “Our
baby.”

Tears flooded his eyes. “We used to be happy. Even Raine. She was fun. Funny.” He
paused. “After Mom died … then Roane … she changed.”

Bailey caught his hand, laced their fingers, led him to the keeping room sofa. He
sat heavily, dropping his head into his hands.

She curled up next to him, rhythmically rubbing his back. Giving him time. Loving
him as best she could.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he said after a couple of minutes. “I didn’t
before now because it’s—”

He was going to tell her about his father. Now, so soon after she and Stephanie talked.
She wouldn’t have called him, would she?

“It’s about my dad. And Mom. It’s really bad.”

Bailey curled her hand around his. “Nothing you could say will make me stop loving
you.”

He didn’t believe her. She saw it in his eyes. But he went on anyway. “Mom’s love
was horses, Dad’s was sailing. We had a sailboat, a thirty-eight-foot Hunter, docked
at South Shore Harbor in New Orleans.” He stopped, stood. “I need a drink.”