The First Wife (36 page)

She slid her hands into her pockets. “The photos he lifted from Uncle Henry’s. Some
others. I don’t want to be here much longer. I have this feeling he’ll be back soon.”

Bailey nodded and got back to the material in front of her. She took the spiral notebook
and pen from her purse.

She carefully wrote Nicole Grace’s name and placed a number one beside it. The teenager
had been strangled. The initial necklace must have been hers. Her killer had taken
it from around her neck.

Trista Hook. Long, wavy hair. In one of the pictures, she had it pulled away from
her face. Could the sparkly hair clip have been hers? She noted her question and moved
on.

Amanda LaPier. Number three. She flipped through news clippings, stopping on a brief
bio. Graduated from Covington High in 2010.
The class ring had belonged to her
.

In her mind, that clinched it. The class ring, the initial pendant … A killer’s souvenirs.
His box of trophies.

No doubt that’s what it had been.

Billy Ray had begun a file on Dixie. Bailey saw nothing in it she didn’t already know.

True’s file. Logan’s. Then … nothing.

She frowned. The other three woman, where were they? She pictured the whiteboard,
the diagram. Remembered standing in front of it … the names.

Why had Billy Ray excluded them from the box? What did it mean?

Something. Something important.

“Ready when you are.”

Bailey glanced up at Stephanie. “One last look through.”

She took her time, knowing this would be her last opportunity to peek into Billy Ray’s
mind. She made a few more notes, reviewed them quickly, then stood.

“Leave the top off the box and the closet door open.”

Bailey frowned. “Why?”

“It’ll totally mess with his head.”

In another situation, where the stakes weren’t nearly so high, she would have smiled—even
laughed—at the suggestion. But the stakes today were about as high as they could get.
“Are you sure you want to do that? He could figure it out.”

“Let him. I’m itching for a confrontation.”

She was, Bailey realized as they drove away from Billy Ray’s. She could see it in
the way she clenched and unclenched her hands on the steering wheel, the muscle that
jumped in her tight jaw.

“What’s wrong?” Bailey asked.

“Too many memories. That’s all.”

But it wasn’t. Obviously. “What did you do in there?”

“Looked around.”

“Find True’s head in the freezer?”

“What! No.”

“Someone else’s head?”

“No, God, no. Bad joke, Bailey.”

“I was only half joking.”

They fell silent. Bailey tried one more time. “You found something, didn’t you?”

Stephanie glanced at her, then back at the road. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”

“Okay, I get that.”

“What about you?” She flexed her fingers on the wheel again. “You said you had questions
you needed answered. Did you get what you went for?”

Names. Confirmation.

“I did.”

“Anything you’re ready to talk about?”

She hesitated, then nodded. Stephanie was the only real friend she had. “Pull over,
Steph. There’s something I have to tell you.”

Stephanie turned into an empty church parking lot, cut the engine and turned to face
her. “You’ve got my full attention.”

“I’ve remembered the day of the accident. Most of it, anyway.”

Stephanie had gone very still. Instinctively, Bailey thought. As if afraid any movement
would cause Bailey to change her mind or her memory to evaporate again.

“I visited Henry that day. I talked to him.”

“How was he?”

Her question came out choked. Yearning.

“He was good, Steph. He was … Henry.”

Stephanie’s eyes flooded with tears. She blinked to chase them away, but several escaped
and rolled down her cheeks. She swiped at them as if irritated with herself. “If only
I’d gone out there myself. I would have seen him one last time. Maybe he would be
alive. Inside with me, safe. That hunter—”

“He wasn’t killed by a hunter.”

“How do you—” Her eyes widened. “You remembered—”

“Hear me out, then you decide. When I got there that day, Henry had something for
me. A … box. A handmade box that—” She cleared her throat. “Logan’s initials were
on it. And a date. May 2, 1988.”

“What was—”

“Inside? An assortment of things. A necklace and hair clip, a girl’s class ring. A
lipstick. A couple others.”

“Uncle Henry was always finding stuff in the woods. Trash, lost items.”

“He told me when he found the box, the items were already in it.”

“Okay.”

She didn’t get it. “I wanted to look at Billy Ray’s notes on the missing women. To
see if I could link any of the items to them.”

Stephanie was staring blankly at her. Bailey went on. “The necklace was an initial
pendant. The letter
N
. The girl who was strangled back in 2005 was named—”

“Nicole. Oh, my God.”

“And the class ring was from Covington High, class of 2010. The year Amanda LaPier—”

“Graduated.”

She’d gone white. “Yes.”

“Uncle Henry thought he’d found a treasure chest. But he’d found a little box of horrors.”

Stephanie was silent a moment. When she spoke again, Bailey heard hope in her voice.
“Do you think, maybe … it’s nothing. Just what Uncle Henry thought? Innocent?”

“
Innocent
.” Such a beautiful word. “Until today I thought maybe … I’d hoped that, too. But
the coincidence of the necklace and ring … I don’t have any doubt, not anymore.”

“Did Uncle Henry say where he’d found it?”

“The hay barn.”

“The—” She stopped, the look of horror coming over her face again. “Where Roane— The
perfect spot. No one goes out there anymore.”

“Right. In fact, nobody was
supposed
to go out there. That’s what Henry said. He thought I was mad about it.”

Stephanie frowned. “Who told him that?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say, but I would assume Logan or Paul.”

“Or Raine. Oh, my God, Billy Ray. He was looking for the box.”

“Maybe.”

“Otherwise, what happened to it?”

“The sheriff’s deputies may have collected it, when they searched Henry’s after his
murder.”

Stephanie drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “One problem. It’s seems to me,
if they’d found that they would have been all over Logan. They would have questioned
me. Henry would’ve been considered a suspect.”

“You’re right, I hadn’t thought of that.” She pursed her lips. “Billy Ray was out
there, you were certain he’d been inside the cabin. You saw him putting something
in his trunk.”

Stephanie nodded. “That was it, the box.”

It made sense
. “So where is it now? In the hands of the deputies? Or still in his trunk?”

“The deputies have to have it,” Stephanie said. “It’s a surefire way to fry Logan.”

“No,” Bailey said, realizing something she hadn’t before. “It would muddy the water.”

“What do you mean?”

“Billy Ray has to tell him where he found it. Like you said, if he took it from Henry’s,
it casts suspicion on Henry.”

“So, he plants it wherever it’s most likely to damage Logan.” Stephanie met Bailey’s
eyes. “The search warrant, Billy Ray was certain they’d be granted one. He was practically
giggling about it.”

“He’s stashed the box on Abbott Farm. Of course he did.” Bailey’s heart sank and she
curved her arms around her middle. “What do we do? It could be anywhere.”

“You go to the police. Tell them the story. Tell them about your memory returning.”

“They won’t believe me. They’ll think I’m trying to save my husband. Because of the
baby. Or because I’m blinded by love. They’ll think that I somehow found out about
him, what he is and … Women do that. You hear about it all the time.”

“Are you one of those women, Bailey? One who can be blinded by love?”

“No.” The word spilled forcefully past her lips and she felt as if a giant weight
had been lifted from her shoulders. “No, I’m not. And Logan isn’t a killer.”

“Hold off on the sheriff for a few hours. I’m paying Billy Ray a visit. I’m going
to get him to talk.”

“How?”

“I think I have something on him. Something big.”

Stephanie didn’t want to say what it was; they rode the rest of the way to the farm
in silence.

Paul was waiting for her. When Stephanie stopped the truck, he strode over and yanked
open her door. “What the hell, Bailey! Where were you?”

“Obviously,” Stephanie answered for her, hopping out, “she was with me. What’s up?”

“It’s Logan.”

“Oh, my God—” Bailey slid out of the truck. “What’s happened, Paul? Is he all right—”

“Yes. It’s good news, Bailey.” His voice shook slightly. “Dixie Jenkins is alive.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. When they did, her knees went weak with
relief. She grabbed the car door for support. “Please tell me this isn’t a joke.”

“Not a joke. She ran off and got married.”

“But her car … the way she left it—”

“Pretty crazy, right.” He searched her gaze. “You know what this means, Bailey? They’re
releasing Logan. Within the hour, his lawyer said.”

With a whoop of joy, Bailey threw her arms around him. He hugged her back just as
tightly. She turned to Stephanie and hugged her. “He’s coming home, Steph! I knew
he didn’t do that. I knew he couldn’t!”

Stephanie hugged her back. “Go. You’ll want to be there when he walks out.”

Bailey looked at Paul. “Will you drive?”

“Of course.”

“Steph, you want to come along?”

She smiled. “Nope, there’s something I have to do. But give Logan a congratulatory
hug from me.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

Thursday, April 24

5:55
P.M.

Bailey made it to the parish jail just in time to see Logan walk out of the facility,
a free man.

“Logan!” she cried, and ran to him. He took her in his arms and held her, his face
buried in her hair. Hers in the crook of his neck. They stood like that for a long
time, aware of people passing them, of the lawyer and Paul’s stilted conversation.
Of Paul’s not so subtle clearing of his throat.

They drew apart, though only inches. Bailey drank in his face. He looked like he had
aged five years in the past twenty-four hours. She wondered if she did as well, although
by the way he was looking at her—as if she was the most beautiful thing he had ever
seen—she thought not.

Paul clapped him on the back. “Glad you’re coming home, man.”

“I’m not there yet. Let’s get out of here before they change their minds.”

Logan and the attorney spoke briefly before they parted ways. Paul drove while she
and Logan sat in the backseat, holding hands. Bailey had so much to tell him, but
the thoughts wouldn’t form on her tongue. And she was glad. They would have time for
talking, but for now she was content with the warmth of him next to her, the feel
of her hand encased in his.

Paul glanced at them in the rearview. “They told you about August?”

Beside her, Logan stiffened. “Oh, yeah. With pleasure. They asked me if I knew he
was an addict. I didn’t. You have any idea?”

“None.”

Bailey jumped in. “Raine knew. She said he’d struggled with drug dependency in the
past. But that he was over it.”

Logan looked at her, frowning. “She never mentioned it to me.”

Paul spoke up. “Makes sense, that of us all she would have known. Birds of a feather
and all that.”

Something about the way he said it felt small and unnecessary. Bailey laid her head
on her husband’s shoulder.

“They asked me a lot of questions about the gun,” Logan said.

“Really?” Paul sounded surprised. “Why?”

“I don’t know. They were curious why he had it, if he was a hunter. As far as I knew
the man had never hunted in his life. It didn’t seem his style at all.”

Paul agreed. “Funny how you can be friends with someone, work with them for years
and not really know them at all.”

“They asked about his relationship with Henry.”

“Henry?” Paul repeated, obviously surprised. “Why?”

“Think about it. They say Henry was shot by a hunter—”

“And a hunter uses a rifle. Maybe the same kind found at August’s place?”

“No,” Bailey said. “August couldn’t hurt anyone.”

“There was something about their questioning— Never mind.”

Paul met his eyes in the rearview once more. “No, what?”

“I had the feeling they knew, or suspected, something they weren’t telling me but
were wanting me to confirm.”

“Like what?”

“No clue, man.” He made a sound, part weariness, part disgust. “But that’s what cops
do, try to get you to confirm their accusations, no matter how far-fetched.”

She knew he was thinking of Billy Ray and curled her fingers more tightly around his.
“It’s over now.”

“For now,” he corrected. “He’s not going to stop.”

“So, let’s stop him,” she said, tipping her face up to his. “It’s an abuse of power,
a personal vendetta.”

Paul agreed. “This could be the ammunition you need.”

Logan sighed, leaned his head back against the seat. “All I want to think about right
now is being home and in the arms of my beautiful wife.”

At that, they fell silent. They rode the rest of the way without speaking, arriving
at the farm to find Raine waiting for them.

She ran to her brother and embraced him. “Thank God … thank God … I was so afraid
I’d lost you, too!”

“I’m home, Raine.” He stroked her hair while she held him and sobbed. “It’s okay.
Everything’s going to be okay.”

“No … no, maybe not. I—” She struggled to pull herself together. “There’s something
I have to tell you, something I should have told you a long time ago. You might …
hate me after. But I have to do it anyway. Alone. Okay?”

She meant to tell about True’s baby, Bailey realized. The abortion.