The First Wife (23 page)

She watched him pour himself a glass of red. He didn’t rejoin her on the sofa, but
simply stood, gaze fixed on somewhere in the past.

“We’d go for the weekend, sometimes longer. Since I was older, I was allowed to sometimes
bring a friend.”

“Paul.”

“Always. If it was Raine’s turn, she’d bring Stephanie. They were wonderful magical
times, until—”

He stopped. Seconds ticked past.

Finally, as if having to force the words out of himself, he said, “—that trip. That
night.”

The night his mother drowned.

“Mom and Dad had been drinking. Something was wrong, we didn’t know what, but we felt
the tension the whole weekend. We heard them arguing that night. Late. It scared Raine
so much she crawled into the fore bunk with us boys. Usually she slept out in the
cabin area.

“They took it up to the deck. Shouting. He accused her of having an affair. Of being
in love with someone else.”

“Who?”

He shook his head and Bailey was uncertain whether because he didn’t know or didn’t
want to say.

“That’s the last time we heard our mother’s voice.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We awoke the next morning, and she was gone.” He cradled the glass between his palms,
gingerly, as if afraid he could crush it without a thought. “Dad said he left her
alone up on the deck. That he went to bed.”

Logan fell silent for a long moment, so long Bailey wondered if he would say more.
Finally, he did.

“He radioed the coast guard, they searched.”

“Did they find her?” The words came out dry.

“A week later. Along the shore at Fontainebleau State Park in Mandeville.”

Bailey laid a hand on her stomach. She felt sick.

“He was questioned by the police. He claimed he was so drunk, he passed out. That
he never noticed she didn’t come to bed.” Logan took a swallow of the wine. “It took
six years for charges to be brought against him. Paul and I testified against him
at his trial.”

“Oh, my God, Logan. I’m so sorry.”

He went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “The jury deliberated less than an hour. And
found him guilty.”

“Was he?” she asked. “Did he claim it was an accident or—”

“His story never changed. He insisted he left her there on the deck. The water was
calm. We were anchored. He begged us to believe him.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. All four of us knew he’d done it. Raine blames me. Roane did, as well.”

“No.” She got to her feet. “How can you—”

“I was the oldest. I should have checked on her. Or broken up their fight. It was
my responsibility to step in.”

“You were a boy. Parents fight sometimes.”

“I was fifteen. Hell, almost sixteen. And no they don’t, not like that. At least not
our parents.”

She suddenly realized what that meant. “Your father’s still alive?”

“No. He hung himself in prison. And then a year later, Roane hung himself in the old
barn.”

Bailey didn’t know how to respond, what to say. Just imagining it for him, the man
she knew and loved, hurt almost more than she could bear. She could only guess what
it must be like for him. And for Raine.

“Now, tonight … I never believed what Dad accused her of. Never. Tonight I learned
otherwise.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mom was having an affair. She was in love with Henry.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Raine found their love letters to each other. But there’s more. Raine and Roane,
according to the letters—”

“Were Henry’s, not your dad’s.”

“Yes.”

She went to him, cupped his face in her palms. “This doesn’t change anything. She’s
still your sister. Your mother still loved you … she was just human. Like the rest
of us. Our new life starts now. Me and you and the baby.”

He covered her hands with his own, kissed her, then kissed her again. “Thank you.”

They gazed stupidly into each other’s eyes, their love fest broken by a deep, unmistakable
gurgle of her stomach.

“I take it you haven’t eaten,” he said.

“I was waiting for you.”

“How about we grab something at Faye’s?”

“Sounds good.”

“Mind if I shower first?”

“Not at all.”

Bailey followed him upstairs, Tony at her heels. While Logan showered, she went back
to the photos of Tony on her phone. It was a strange feeling, scrolling through pictures
she intellectually knew she had taken, but had no memory of.

Bizarre. She cocked her head. Tony, just being Tony. The azaleas. Wildflowers. More
azaleas.

And then … A red shoe. Nestled in mud. Incongruous among the sticks, soggy earth and
shoots of spring growth.

Bailey stared at it, goose bumps roaring up her arms, her spine.

She remembered.

CHAPTER FORTY

Monday, April 21

8:05
P.M.

As he did most weeknights, Billy Ray had consumed his meal-from-a-box, enjoyed the
one beer—Abita Amber, there wasn’t any other as far as he was concerned—he allowed
himself, and headed into his war room.

He sat there now. Assessing. Questioning. His greatest achievement. And most dismal
failure. All the puzzle pieces that he’d found and snapped into place, yet he was
the only one who could see the emerging image.

Logan Abbott.

Dixie Jenkins seemed to stare accusingly at him, as if demanding how he could have
let this happen to her.

A thumping from his front door dragged him away from his thoughts. He went to it,
peering out the side window, right hand hovering over his firearm.

Tucker Law. Local high school football hero and hell-raiser. His parents stood behind
him, looking anxious.

Billy Ray opened the door. “Tucker,” he said, then shifted his gaze. “Martin, Betty,
this is a surprise.”

“Tucker has something to say to you.”

He shifted his gaze to the seventeen-year-old. “That so, Tucker?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He has some information about Dixie,” Martin said.

“Come on in,” Billy Ray said, stepping aside so they could enter. “Have a seat.”

They did. Billy Ray grabbed a notepad and pen, then took the chair across from the
boy.

“What do you have to say, Tucker?”

He cleared his throat. “I was drivin’ past The Landing Friday night. Late. Me and
Louis Moore, we’d been out hunting.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “At night?”

“Yes, sir. Nutria.”

“Gators, you mean?”

Tucker slid a glance toward his father, then nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Which was illegal, a fact Billy Ray ignored. Hell, reality television had practically
made it open season. “When you say ‘late,’ what time?”

“Two, three in the morning. Which I suppose made it early Saturday morning. I’d just
dropped Louis off.”

“Which? Two? Or three?”

He thought a moment. “After two but not three. I remember thinking that. Doing the
math, you know. How long I’d have to sleep before getting up for work.”

“Go on.”

“I saw Dixie, her Mustang. In the Landing parking lot.”

Billy Ray fought to take it slow. “You saw her? Or just her Mustang?”

“First, I just noticed her ’stang. It’s a sweet set of wheels. Needs some work, but
still—”

Billy Ray cut him off, impatient. “Yes, it is. Go on, Tucker.”

“Then I noticed Dixie. She was talking to someone in the truck next to her.”

“Did you notice what kind of a truck?” Billy Ray asked, unable to hide his excitement.

“A Ford F-150. Real shiny. Black.”

Logan Abbott had a black F-150.

“What happened next?”

“She climbed into the truck.” He twisted his hands in his lap. “I didn’t think anything
of it until Mom and Dad—”

“We told him about Dixie being missing,” Betty Law said.

Billy Ray fought to keep his excitement from showing. “Have you told anyone else about
this?”

“No, sir. Told my folks and we came straight here.”

“You did good, Tucker.” Billy Ray looked from Tucker to his parents. “Don’t repeat
this story. Not to anyone. This might just be the break we’ve been waiting for. And
if it is, we don’t want the perpetrator to know we’re on to him. You get me, Tucker?”

“Yes, sir.”

He looked him dead in the eyes. “I mean it. I hear you’ve blabbed, I’m going to throw
your ass in jail.”

“Jail,” Martin Law said. “What the hell for?”

“Hunting gators out of season. It’s breaking the law, no matter what you may think
from watching
Swamp People
.”

“But we brought you this information! Is this how you pay us back?”

“It’s how I ensure you keep your mouths shut. You do that, and I overlook that infraction.”

Tucker nodded. “Don’t worry, I won’t say a thing. But what about Louis?”

“I’ll need to talk to him, too. Confirm your story and timeline.” He closed his notebook
and stood. “Can I count on your silence as well, Martin? Betty? Nothing to no one.”

Martin looked at his wife, who nodded, then back at Billy Ray. “You can count on us.
We want this son of a bitch caught, whoever he is.”

Not whoever, Billy Ray thought moments later as he watched the three drive off. Logan
Abbott.

Finally.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Tuesday, April 22

3:15
A.M.

A cry on her lips, Bailey sat straight up in bed. A nightmare, she realized, working
to calm herself. Nothing more.

Bailey turned toward Logan, surprised she hadn’t awakened him. She hadn’t because
he wasn’t in bed with her. She moved a hand over his spot, finding it cool to the
touch.

They’d had dinner at Faye’s. She’d eaten some, but mostly moved the food around the
plate. And said little. When he’d asked about her change of mood, she’d claimed exhaustion.
A headache.

The red shoe. Emerging from its muddy grave.

A snippet of a memory meant nothing. There was a logical explanation, one that she
already knew but didn’t remember.

She dragged the blankets up to her chin, remembering. Tony barking. The shoe. Being
scared half to death by Henry at the edge of the woods. He’d heard Tony and come looking.

“What do you have there, Ms. True?”

She’d told him it was nothing, and asked if he would show her the way back to the
path. He had done better than that, he had walked her all the way to the gate. But
not before she had taken a couple of pictures of the shoe.

There, her memory came to a sharp stop.

Stop this, Bailey. Show Logan the picture. Tell him what you remembered. Ask him about
it.

Of course that’s what she should do. Why was it so hard to focus? To stay calm and
clearheaded? The TML? Pregnancy and its runaway hormones? A combination of the two?

She reached for her cell phone, located on the nightstand beside her. Its display
glowed reassuringly as she checked the time. Three-fifteen. Late to be up working
or anything else. Even for Logan.

Perhaps he’d had to use the bathroom. “Logan,” she called softly. “You there?”

Silence. Not even the thump of Tony’s tail on the wooden floor. Bailey slipped out
of bed. Naked, she grabbed yesterday’s jeans and shirt from the floor and slipped
them on. “Logan!” she called again as she stepped out into the hall.

Nothing. She flipped on the light and headed down the stairs. She saw that a light
burned in the kitchen and from under his office door. Working. No doubt Tony curled
up by his feet. She smiled and shook her head. Probably brewed himself a cup of coffee,
too. No wonder he couldn’t sleep.

Bailey used the bathroom, then headed downstairs. The floor was cool against her bare
feet. She tapped on the closed door, then nudged it open. Her greeting died on her
lips.

He wasn’t there.

Bailey acknowledged the sliver of fear even as she chastised herself for it. She was
being ridiculous. “Logan!” she called, starting for the kitchen.

That room proved as empty as the office. So she checked the courtyard, then the remainder
of the first floor.

Heart rapping against the wall of her chest, she headed back up to the second floor.

Still no sign of her husband. Where had he gone? Why would he have left her this way?

The way her father had, in the dark of night.

Sudden, complete panic crashed down on her. The garage. His car. It would be there,
she told herself. It would.

Bailey ran down the stairs to the mudroom door. She grabbed the flashlight Logan kept
there and yanked on her rubber boots. She stepped out into the night. Pitch-black.
No moon or stars, both obscured by clouds. A chill wind blew and she shivered, wishing
she’d grabbed a jacket as well, but unwilling to go back.

She snapped on the flashlight. The beam sliced through the darkness and she hurried
to the garage.

His Porsche was there, she saw. As was her SUV and his truck. So, where was he? Walking
on a night like tonight? Dark as pitch? Riding? Would he endanger one of the horses
that way—

The horses. The barn. Of course.

She ran around the side of the garage where he parked the golf cart, the vehicle used
to get between the various residences on the property and the barns. It wasn’t there.

Bailey made a sound, part relief, part embarrassment. The barn. Of course that’s where
he’d gone. He’d said something about one of the horses being colicky. And he’d taken
Tony with him.

She was such an idiot.

Bailey turned to go back to the house, then stopped, flashlight beam landing on the
courtyard gate. A memory snapped into place, filled her head.

She and Logan standing there. She had rushed out to meet him, to tell him what she
and Tony had uncovered.

Logan, staring at her as if she had lost her mind. “Tony found what?”

“A shoe. A lady’s high-heeled shoe. Bright red.”

“Okay.”

“By the pond,” she said.