CHAPTER EIGHT
Bailey watched the lawman stroll back to his cruiser and climb in. A moment later, he was going around her, lifting his hand in a wave. As if they were old friends.
Her hands were shaking. She sucked in a deep breath, working to calm herself. He hadn’t overtly threatened her or Logan. Yet the encounter had unnerved her.
She shifted into drive, and eased back onto the road. It hadn’t been the badge and gun, nor the way he’d gotten in her face, that bothered her. It was the animosity he felt toward her husband. And his innuendos. That Logan was keeping secrets from her. That she didn’t know the whole story about True.
He and True had been friends, he’d said. Almost defiantly. In challenge. But not a challenge to her. To Logan.
“And while you’re at it, grab yourself a copy of our local paper at Faye’s. I think you’ll find it interesting.”
Faye’s. One of two restaurants in Wholesome, a diner Logan had said served the best biscuits and sausage gravy anywhere. Up ahead Bailey saw the sign announcing the Village of Wholesome. She smiled to herself. Okay, Big-Chief Billy Ray. Challenge accepted.
Bailey didn’t have far to go; Faye’s was located on the main drag, just past the town’s only traffic light. The building—a low-slung, beige brick box, picture window dotted with flyers—had nothing outstanding to commend it. Except the food, which the sign in the window assured was Real Good. As did the nearly full parking lot, with its collection of dusty pickup trucks and SUVs.
Bailey entered the restaurant. The bell above the door jingled her arrival and conversation paused as every head swiveled in her direction.
Apparently, she had found the place to see and be seen in Wholesome.
“Seat yourself wherever there’s room!” the waitress called. “I’ll be with you in a shake.”
Bailey picked her way to a small table in a far corner. Once seated, she took in the surroundings. Homespun. Basic. Formica tabletops matched the scarred Formica floors. On the walls were horse racing and polo memorabilia and a couple of stuffed fish. Largemouth bass, she thought.
She breathed deeply and her mouth started to water. It smelled wonderful. Like bacon, burgers and homemade biscuits.
As Bailey reached for one of the menus propped between the napkin holder and salt and pepper shakers, the waitress arrived. “Hi there,” she said.
The woman looked to be in her thirties and had a handsome, weatherworn face. Not worn in a bad way, but one that spoke of fresh air and sunshine. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
“Hello.”
“Sorry about the wait. The other girl didn’t show up. Second time this week.”
“Ouch.”
“You’re telling me. You wouldn’t be looking for a job, would you?” Before Bailey could respond, she noticed her ring and answered the question herself. “No, I guess not, with a sparkler like that. It’s beautiful.”
Bailey glanced at it, then back up at her with a smile. “Thank you.”
“I’d thank him,” she said with a grin. “You know what you want?”
“Haven’t even looked. Are you still serving breakfast?”
“Sorry, sugar. Just lunch after eleven.”
“How about a BLT?”
“Nice compromise. Chips or fries?”
“Chips. Mayo on the side.”
“Perfect. And to drink?”
“Water. With lemon.”
“Anything else?”
“A newspaper?”
“I’ve got the New Orleans T-P, the Baton Rouge Advocate or our own little Village Voice.”
Bailey didn’t know what she was looking for—or even if there was anything—so she asked for all three. A moment later, the woman set the glass of water and three papers on the table.
As Bailey starting sifting through them, she realized how isolated from the world she had been. She and Logan hadn’t watched television at night, she hadn’t turned the radio on or looked at the newspaper. She hadn’t even been online other than the occasional Facebook update or Tweet. She had been happily ensconced in her own little bubble of bliss.
On the front page of the Voice she found what she suspected Billy Ray Williams had wanted her to see.
Second Woman Disappears from Wholesome
And under the picture of a twentysomething young woman with long brown hair and a cocky smile, one word: “Missing!”
Bailey skimmed the article. Her name was Amanda LaPier. She’d last been seen partying at a local bar. The next day, her car was found, keys, purse and cell phone in it. No sign of violence. As if she had been lured out by someone she knew.
Apparently, four years ago another young woman had gone missing. Trista Hook, the M.O. nearly identical.
Bailey finished the article, then skimmed the rest of the Village Voice. Home sales and racing stats, theft of horse tranquilizers from a vet’s office, a couple of fights that led to arrests at a local honky-tonk. Nothing else that jumped out at her.
Bailey returned to the front-page article and frowned. She felt certain this was what Billy Ray Williams had wanted her to see. But what did it have to do with her or Logan?
The waitress arrived with her sandwich and set the plate in front of her. She indicated the paper. “Creepy, huh.”
Bailey didn’t comment and she went on. “I tell you what, I never walk to my car alone at night.”
Village of Wholesome
Population 718
“Some people even believe there was a third woman. So much for the picture-perfect little village. Can I get you anything else?”
Bailey looked up. “What did you say?”
“Can I get you anything else?”
“No, not that. About a third woman.”
“A sweet little gal named—”
She stopped, gaze dropping from Bailey’s face to her ring finger, then back up. “I shouldn’t have said that. Sometimes my mouth runs away with me and well, that’s just pure gossip. My pastor preached on it just this past—”
“Steph! Order up!”
She started to go; Bailey stopped her, remembering what Logan had said about his first wife leaving him. “Are you talking about True Abbott?”
Her stricken expression said it all.
“Stephanie!”