The First Wife (35 page)

“We’ve got a ballistics match in the Rodriquez homicide.”

“The 700 from the Perez scene.”

“Yes.”

“That’s good news.” Billy Ray moved his gaze between the two detectives. Something
was up, something they hadn’t shared yet. “Although I never would’ve figured fancy-pants
Perez to own a rifle let alone be the shooter. But then shooting up Special-K didn’t
much seem his style, either.”

“That’s just it, Williams. We’re not closing this one quite yet. We’d like another
link between Perez and the gun.”

Louisiana sported some of the most tolerant gun laws in the country, requiring neither
registration nor permit to buy or carry a rifle or shotgun. “The weapon was in his
possession.”

“Say our witnesses. Mr. Perez wasn’t in the position to confirm or deny.”

“You don’t trust them.”

“Trust isn’t part of the equation. It’s my job to doubt everything.”

“You think one, or all, of them planted it?”

“Could have. But why?”

Billy Ray shook his head, growing frustrated. “What about prints? That’d tie him to
it.”

“Interestingly, Perez’s aren’t on it.”

“Not one?”

“Not a single one.”

“Okay,” Billy Ray said, “he wiped it after he killed Rodriquez.”

“That’s one theory.”

“You have another?”

“He always does,” Carlson said, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin. “It’s all part
of livin’ the dream.”

Rumsfeld sent him an annoyed glance. “Let’s take this at face value. Perez was in
possession of the gun used to kill Rodriquez. Witness said she found it on his bed.
Bed made, gun lying across it.”

“Right.”

“Why?”

“I don’t follow,” Billy Ray said.

“Why wipe your prints from a weapon and leave it lying across your bed?”

“He meant to shoot himself with it. Or he wants us to find the gun, figure it out.”

Rumsfeld cocked an eyebrow. “Again, why wipe it beforehand?”

He had a point, Billy Ray silently admitted. “So, maybe he plans to get rid of it,
but decides to have himself a little party first and overdoses. Or he means to get
himself good and relaxed and then shoot himself.”

“An experienced drug abuser knows he shoots up, the last thing he’s going to be able
to do is pull the trigger. Which brings us back to the question of what really happened.
Did Perez accidentally overdose? Or was it suicide?”

Billy Ray thought a moment. “I’m leaning toward accidental overdose.”

“Why?”

“From what I knew of Perez,” Billy Ray began, “he had a very favorable opinion of
himself. Hard to see him ending it all. Plus, in my opinion, he wasn’t the attack-of-conscience
type of guy, and taking his own life and leaving the weapon he used to kill Rodriquez
for us to find smacks of that. Finally, no note.”

Carlson spoke up. “What about his call to Bailey Abbott? He’s gonna confess, but she
doesn’t pick up. So he leaves a message apologizing and asking forgiveness. Even mentions
Henry by name.”

“That travels into the attack-of-conscience category. Not buyin’ it.”

Carlson shook his head. “He does it the same day his victim is buried and his friend
Abbott is arrested. It all crashed down on him at once.”

“But Abbott’s arrested for Jenkins, not Rodriquez.” Billy Ray’s phone went off. “Excuse
me a moment.” He stepped out of the cubicle. “Williams.”

“Billy Ray—Chief, it’s Earl.”

“I’m in a meeting, Officer Stroup.”

“Travis Jenkins just called.”

“And?”

“I don’t … it’s good news. He—”

“Spit it out, Stroup.”

“He heard from Dixie. She’s fine.”

Billy Ray reached a hand out to steady himself. It felt as if his world was rocking.
“No.”

“She ran off and got hitched.”

Billy Ray strode out to the hallway, away from prying eyes and ears. “Bullshit.”

“He said it was her. She’s in San Antonio.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Some guy she used to date. She—”

Billy Ray cut him off. “You tell Travis not to speak to anyone else about this.”

“But Chief—”

“Until I have a visual on her myself, she’s missing and Abbott stays in jail.”
And the search warrant proceeded as planned.
“You hear me, Officer Stroup? Your job depends on this.”

“Yessir.”

Billy Ray ended the call. He took a deep breath and let it out real slow. Pulling
himself together, wiping the emotion from his face, the panic from his eyes. He took
another breath, released it the same way. Carlson might be a bit of a boob, but Rumsfeld
missed little. He couldn’t afford questions right now.

He had been here before. He’d managed it then, he would this time as well.

He ambled back into the Investigation Division. Rumsfeld looked up. “Everything okay,
Williams?”

“Perfect,” he said, smiling easily. “Everything’s just … perfect.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

Thursday, April 24

12:45
P.M.

Bailey glanced at her watch. Stephanie had called twenty minutes ago and said that
she was on her way to pick her up. If she still wanted into Billy Ray’s house, now
was their moment. Bailey had used the time to pull her thoughts together. She’d stuffed
a small notebook in her purse, made certain she had a pen and her cell phone, then
filled Tony’s bowl with water.

From outside came the toot of a car horn. The dog didn’t look happy about her leaving,
and she wagged her finger at him. “You be a good boy while I’m gone.”

The truth was, she could leave him to roam the farm while she was away. He knew where
he lived and the property was fenced, but she couldn’t stand the thought of his not
being here when she returned.

She slipped out the front door, locking it behind her, then hurried to Stephanie’s
truck. She climbed in.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Bailey fastened her safety belt. “What was the rush?”

“Billy Ray stopped at Faye’s for coffee and pastries. He was meeting Detectives Rumsfeld
and Carlson in Slidell. At the sheriff’s complex.”

“He told you that?”

“Nope. Eavesdropped. He told Earl he’d be gone for a while.”

Stephanie’s truck rumbled past the barn. There was no one in sight. “What do you think
that means?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“What else is new?”

“You still have a sense of humor. That’s good.”

“It’s either that or fall apart.”

Stephanie reached across and squeezed her hand. “When I saw Billy Ray last night he
said they’d have a search warrant today. For the farm.”

She curled her hands into fists. “All his dreams are coming true.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Logan didn’t do it.”

“I know.”

The simple reply, the confidence in it, brought tears of relief to Bailey’s eyes.
She wasn’t alone. “How are we getting in?”

“A key I have from when we were dating.”

“He didn’t ask for it back?”

“It’s a long story.” Her lips lifted slightly. “Well, maybe not that long, but it
doesn’t paint me in a very good light. He never officially gave it to me.”

“Sneaky.”

“Pretty much.” She was quiet a moment. “Billy Ray is too paranoid and suspicious to
ever give someone a key to his place.” She looked away, then back. “I’m not proud
of this. In fact, it’s embarrassing. A dozen times I told myself to toss it, but I
didn’t. I kept it out of spite. After the way he hurt me—”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“But I do. For me, not you.”

Bailey got that. Didn’t make it right or even healthy, but she got it.

“I’ve never used it, I promise. Just having it gave me this … irrational, I don’t
know … like this small measure of control…” She let the words trail off. “After this,
I’ll get rid of it.”

“Is it wrong of me to be really, really thankful you have it?”

Stephanie laughed weakly. “That’s me, always thinking of others.”

“We know how we get into the house, the question is, how do we get in the super-secret
chamber?”

Stephanie grinned at her sarcasm. “Kick down the door?”

“If I have to.”

“Just so you know, whatever he took from Uncle Henry, I’m taking it back.”

Bailey nodded. She understood how it felt to be cheated by someone you love. In her
case it had been her father. At one point she longed to take back what he’d stolen
when he left: her trust and security. The piece of her heart that only he had been
able to fill.

Stephanie wasn’t going to be able to take that back. Only time could.

They fell silent. Stephanie drove past Faye’s, then took the first left after. As
they rolled past the P.D., they both glanced that way. No cruiser. Only Robin’s red
VW Beetle.

Stephanie parked just up the block from Billy Ray’s. Bailey’s heart pounded, the realization
that they were breaking and entering fully hitting her.

“What if one of the neighbors notices us?” she asked.

“Can’t control that. Act natural. Wave. They’ve seen me here before.”

They headed up the walkway to his door. “Prepare yourself, the key might not work.
He might have changed the lock, just because.”

“It will. It has to.”

Bailey said a silent prayer as Stephanie fitted the key into the lock. She twisted;
the lock didn’t budge. She tried again, then looked at Bailey. “It’s not working.”

“Let me try.”

Stephanie stepped aside. Bailey pulled the key, then pushed it back in, jiggled a
bit; it caught and the dead bolt slid back.

Bailey realized she’d been holding her breath and let it out in a rush. “The first
gate of hell,” she muttered.

They stepped into the house. It crossed her mind to wonder if Billy Ray was crazy
enough to have the place under electronic surveillance. Or booby-trapped.

In the next moment, she saw that they wouldn’t have to worry about kicking in a door.
The door in question stood open.

She looked at Stephanie in surprise. “Prayers answered.”

But they hadn’t been, she realized, stepping into the room. The display board was
blank. Billy Ray had removed everything.

Gone. It was all gone.

“No.” She blinked and shook her head, as if by her doing so everything would reappear.
“He couldn’t have. Not yet.”

“I’m so sorry, Bailey.”

She wanted to cry. “He got his man,” she said. “That’s it, isn’t it? He didn’t need
it anymore.”

His man.

Logan. Her husband.
She brought a hand to her belly.
The father of her child.

“Check the closet,” Stephanie suggested. “You never know.”

Bailey did. Two cardboard boxes. “Bingo. Let’s get to it so we can get out of here.”

One box was full, the other nearly empty. Bailey started with the full one. Photos.
Newspaper clippings. Notes.

The victims in neatly organized and labeled folders. The first was Nicole Grace. The
fifteen-year-old girl found strangled.

Nicole
. The letter
N
.

The image of the initial necklace, its lightweight chain draped across her fingers,
popped into Bailey’s mind.

With the image, Henry’s voice. And her own. Asking where he had found the box.

“Where did you get these things, Henry?”

“Found ’em.”

“Where?”

“Aren’t they pretty?” He looked hurt. “I thought you’d think they were pretty.”

“I do, Henry. Please … I just—” She cleared her throat. “Were they all together like
this? In the box?”

He nodded. “Did you see? Logan’s box. Roane had one, too.” He frowned. “Don’t know
where his went. With him, maybe.”

Bailey’s stomach went sour. She struggled past the feeling. “So, all the pretty things
were in the box. Where, Henry? Where did you find the box?”

“I shouldn’t have taken it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m not mad.” She made her voice as gentle as possible. “I just need to
know where you got this.”

“The bad place. I’m not supposed to go there. No one is.”

“The bad place?” She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Bad things—” His eyes filled with tears. “Roane.”

The hay barn. Where Roane hung himself.

Located far from the house. No longer used, left to deteriorate. What better place
for a killer to set up shop? Obviously, he stored his treasures there. Did he bury
his victims there, as well? Did he bring them there to die?

She reined in her imagination. She couldn’t let it run away with her, not now.

Her hands shook. She tried to hide it from Henry. “I need to go there. You have to
tell me how to get there.”

“Miss True, you can’t go out there.”

“You could take me, Henry. Show me the way.”

“Can’t drive.” He peered out the window. “Too far to walk now.”

The golf cart, she thought, then rejected the idea. She would have to explain why
she needed it.

And she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

This might be her only chance. She had to know. Before she took this to Logan. Or
the police.

“How can we get there, Henry?”

“Ride.”

She started to shake her head, then stopped. August had told her she was ready. Tea
Biscuit was as gentle a horse as one could be.

She was up to it, she promised herself. She could do it. Not just for her marriage,
but now, for her child as well.

“Yes, Henry, that’s a good idea.” He smiled happily and she stood. “I’ll go change
clothes and come back on Tea Biscuit. Then we’ll go together.”

CHAPTER SIXTY

Thursday, April 24

2:05
P.M.

Bailey lifted her gaze. Stephanie in the doorway. Looking at her, the oddest expression
on her face.

Bailey blinked. “What’s wrong?”

“Just checking on you. What have you found?”

Not what she’d found, what she’d remembered. But she didn’t have time to share that
now. She shook her head. “It’s pretty much all here. How about you?”