The First Wife (25 page)

No shoe, no spot of red anywhere.

She recalled telling herself it didn’t mean anything, even as a tingling sensation
had moved over her. She’d felt light-headed. Queasy.

He had gone for the shoe. So she couldn’t take it to Billy Ray.

“Bailey?”

Startled, she whirled around, nearly slipping on the damp tile. She grabbed the railing
for support. Logan, in the doorway.

He started toward her. “What’s wrong?”

“Where were you?”

“Bailey?”

“Don’t come any closer.” She pressed herself back against the rail. “Where were you?”

“My God … what’s happened—I woke up and was worried about Raine. I went to check on
her.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I don’t sleep well. And I knew if I didn’t check on her, I wouldn’t get back to sleep.”

“Why didn’t you tell me another woman’s gone missing?”

“What?” He frowned. “Who told you that?”

“I went looking for you.” Her voice broke. “I couldn’t find you. Paul hadn’t seen
you, either.”

“You saw Paul? This late?”

“At the barn. Doing laundry.”

“I’m sorry I frightened you,” he said. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I just left.”

Henry and Elisabeth had been having an affair. So Logan’s dad had killed her. True
had been having an affair, so Logan killed her.

Like father like son.

“What happened to the red shoe?”

He frowned, shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“The shoe. The one I found.” She pressed her lips together, although she wasn’t sure
if she meant to hold back a cry or it was because she was trembling so badly.

“You’re hysterical.”

“I’m not. What did you do with it?”

“I never saw it. Bailey, you told me about it. We were going to go retrieve it, but
I got called away. Next thing I know, you’re in the hospital. I’ll go now, if you
want me to. Or we can go in the morning.”

“It’s not there.”

“How do you—” His expression cleared. “You went alone that morning.”

She nodded. “And it was gone.”

“Look, babe, there’s an explanation for this. An animal carried it off. Or Tony came
back for it and has buried it someplace.”

An explanation. He always had a logical explanation.

“The shoe was just a shoe,” he went on, “forgotten by some drunken lovers. I know
it, Bailey. I’ve lived here all my life.”

“I saw you. The night. Heading out into the woods.”

“Your memory’s come back?” He looked hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were carrying a shovel, Logan.”

“A shovel? Baby, I don’t know what, or who, you thought you saw, but it wasn’t me.
Stop looking at me that way. Like you don’t even know me.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.” He strode across to the balcony and pulled her into his arms. She tried to
pull free, but he held her tight. “You know me.”

He kissed her. She tried to turn her head, but he brought it back, hand in her hair,
fingers twisting around the strands.

He kissed again. And then again. Each time more deeply. Drawing her in. Moving his
mouth against hers, his tongue against hers, in a way only he could. Emptying her
mind of everything but him, his touch, his breath against her damp skin, his scent.

A hint of turpentine, she realized, arching her neck. It clung to him along with the
cool of the night and the pine of the forest.

Turpentine. From Raine’s.

Gooseflesh followed his lips. She was on fire. Drunk with passion. He swept her up
and carried her to the bed. There, he made love to her, until she arched up against
his mouth, hands wound in his hair, his name ripping from her lips.

He entered her then, roughly, ferociously. He thrust deeply, she gripped his shoulders,
fingernails digging, holding on. He climaxed with a roar, then rolled off her. No
cuddling or whispered love notes.

Retribution, she thought. For cutting him to the quick. Betraying him with unbelief.

The silence stretched between them. Deep and wide. She whispered his name. Instead
of responding, he turned onto his side, his back to her.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Tuesday, April 22

9:35
A.M.

The next morning, they hardly spoke. Even Tony seemed subdued. It hurt almost more
than she could stand.

Bailey poured herself another glass of juice, more for something to fill the silence
than because she really wanted it. Instead of returning to the table, she crossed
to the patio doors and looked out at the spring day.

“What’s all this?” Logan asked so suddenly she jumped.

She looked over her shoulder. “What?”

He motioned to the pile of receipts she’d dumped out of her purse yesterday.

She had forgotten all about them. “I was looking for something in my purse. Following
up on something Stephanie said.”

His eyebrows shot up and Bailey went on. “She told me we’d talked the day of the accident.
And that I was on my way to the doctor.”

“What doctor?”

“An OB/GYN.”

“Great. You knew you were pregnant and didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t say that because I don’t know that’s true. I probably suspected it. I’m
sure my plan was to confirm the news, then tell you. Surprise you with the good news.”

He didn’t respond and she went on. “Stephanie told me something else. That she asked
me to stop at Henry’s. I said I would, promised to call her after but didn’t. Obviously,
I wasn’t able to.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this last night?”

“Do you really need to ask? You were exhausted.”

“Right.” He stood. Didn’t look at her. “I’m going to head down to the barn to check
on Paramour. Then I have a meeting in Covington.”

“Wait!” He paused at the door. She held out a hand. “Logan, please try to understand—”

“Actually, I think I do understand. You think I’m a liar. And worse. Much worse.”

She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t think that, but she didn’t not think it. How
could that be? How did she explain, when she didn’t understand herself?

His expression hardened. “That’s what I thought.” He patted his leg and Tony trotted
after him. He stopped once more. “I didn’t hurt True. Or anybody else. But I can’t
make you believe that. You trust me or you don’t, Bailey.”

And then he was gone. She sagged against the counter.

Trust him or not.

Love him.

Or not.

She squeezed her eyes shut, confusion hanging over her, dark, suffocating. A cloud
of uncertainty. A part of her gave him everything and would stand with him against
all odds. But the other part was suspicious. Fearful.

She’d come out of the coma this way. With this terrible sense there was something
she knew, something urgent, that she had to share.

Remembering was key. Bailey straightened. Dr. Saunders. The last place she knew she
had been—or was supposed to have been—the day of the accident. She retrieved the obstetrician’s
number and dialed it.

A perky-sounding receptionist answered right away.

“Good morning,” she said, “this is Bailey Abbott. I’m a patient of Dr. Saunders.”

“Yes, Mrs. Abbott. How can I help you this morning?”

“Could you tell me when I was last in to see the doctor?”

A slight hesitation, as if surprised. “Of course. What’s your birthday?”

Bailey told her, and a moment later she was back with the information. “You’ve only
been in once, Mrs. Abbott. Last Wednesday.”

The day of the accident.

“Thank you. This may sound odd, but do you have a record of the time I left?”

“Excuse me?”

“When I finished with the doctor and checked out?”

“Are you all right, Mrs. Abbott?”

“Yes, fine. Just … retracing my steps.”

“According to my records, you checked out at eleven-forty.”

Bailey could tell by the woman’s voice that she found this call very odd. No doubt
it would provide lunch-break laughs later.

She might as well make it a really funny story, as long as she was at it. “And I’m
pregnant, right? Around five weeks?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the receptionist managed, voice suddenly high and squeaky. “Almost six
weeks now.”

“Thank you,” Bailey said, “for your help and holding back your—”

“Bailey, get off the phone.”

At Logan’s voice, she whirled around, the device slipping from her fingers. She bent
and scooped it up, seeing that either the receptionist or the drop had ended the call.

He looked strange. “What’s wrong? I thought you were going—” She looked beyond him.
“Where’s Tony?”

“At the barn. Bailey—”

She heard the sound of tires on the gravel drive. Her blood went cold. “Who’s that?”

“The police— Not Billy Ray. The sheriff’s office.”

“But how…” She shook her head, confused. “Why?”

“A friend of mine called and gave me a heads-up. They want to question me about early
Saturday morning.”

“Early Saturday morning,” she repeated. “I don’t understand—”

But then she did. The woman Paul had told her about. Dixie, the one who had gone missing.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Tuesday, April 22

10:15
A.M.

“It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Abbott.”

She nodded, numb. She felt Logan’s glance and realized their visit with her was another
thing she hadn’t told him. She felt sick.

“How are you feeling? Better?”

“A little,” she managed, the taste of tin in her mouth.

“Have you remembered anything new?”

Again she felt Logan’s gaze. He seemed to come alert beside her

“No.” She shook her head. “Nothing.”

Rumsfeld’s gaze traveled between the two of them. “That’s so odd, Mrs. Abbott. Dr.
Bauer thought your full memory of events could return within the day.”

“Or take as long as a week,” she said evenly, surprising herself. “It’s only been
a couple of days.”

The detective cocked an eyebrow. “Clock’s ticking.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that, Detective.”

He only smiled slightly and shifted his attention to Logan. “And how are you today,
Mr. Abbott?”

“Just dandy.”

“Glad to hear it. I need to ask you a few questions. About this past Friday.” Logan
didn’t respond and he went on. “Where were you Friday night?”

“At the hospital. With my wife.”

“What about early Saturday morning?”

“With my wife.”

“The whole time?”

“Pretty much. I didn’t want to leave her, in case she came to.”

He’d hesitated a fraction of a second. Bailey heard it and she knew the detectives
had, too. Why? What didn’t he want to say?

“Pretty much. So, you did leave her side?”

“To clear my head, yes. Get some fresh air.”

“And that’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Any idea what time that might have been?”

“No. But it was late.”

“I’m sure we can find that out.” He glanced down at his notebook, then back up at
Logan. “So, you just stepped outside for fresh air?”

“Yes.”

“You own several different vehicles, is that correct?”

“That’s right.”

“Do you recall which one you were driving Friday?”

“The truck. A Ford F-150.”

They already knew, Bailey realized. That he’d left her room, the time, what he had
been driving. They were testing him. But why?

She decided to ask. “What’s this all about, Detective?”

“A missing woman. Dixie Jenkins. Last seen early Saturday morning. Getting into a
black pickup truck.”

It was all Bailey could do to keep from gasping. Beside her, Logan stiffened.

“You know anything about that, Mr. Abbott?”

“How could I?”

“Did you know Dixie?”

“I do know Dixie. Not well. Over the years, Travis, that’s her daddy, has done some
work for me.”

Rumsfeld stood. Carlson followed. “Thank you for your time,” he said, then looked
at her. “You still have the card I gave you yesterday?”

“I do, Detectives.”

They walked with them to the front door. She couldn’t wait to have them out of her
house, the door shut behind them.

The detectives started through, then stopped. “When your memory returns, or for any
other reason, call me or my partner. You recall promising me you would?”

She nodded. He turned back to Logan. “Your first wife, what was her name?”

“True.”

“That’s right, True. Did she ever file for divorce?”

“No, I did.”

“Gotcha.”

“Never heard from her again, huh?” That came from the younger of the two, Carlson.

Logan didn’t hide his irritation. “No, I did not.”

“I always thought that was strange.”

“What’s that, Detective Carlson?”

“Most folks, when they want to get out of a marriage, try to get everything they can.”

“And?”

“Nothing. It’s odd, that’s all.”

“If you remember, my wife withdrew ten thousand dollars two days before she left.”

“Big money to me, a public servant. But for you … or the woman you marry, not so much.”

“True wasn’t like that.”

“I guess all she wanted was her freedom.”

Bailey’d had enough. “If there’s nothing else, I haven’t quite recovered yet and need
to rest.”

“My apologies, Mrs. Abbott. But your husband and I go way back, so we have lots to
talk about.”

“You went to school together? Grew up in the same neighborhood?”

“Hardly.” He smiled slightly. “No, I interviewed him when his first wife disappeared.”

“
When his first wife disappeared
.” She felt the words like a blow to her gut, but wasn’t about to let this stranger
see that.

She coolly cocked an eyebrow and waited.

He cleared his throat. “Like I said, call if you need anything. And be careful. I’d
hate to see another accident befall you.”

Bailey turned on Logan the moment the detective’s vehicle had cleared the gates.