“Time’s on your side. Just be patient, she’ll remember.”
But Billy Ray had been patient for three frustrating years. That time had come to an end.
Billy Ray exited the hospital and made his way to his cruiser. He climbed in, started it up and just sat, engine running, thoughts racing. Choosing to forget things that were too painful to remember. He’d made a lifetime of it. Like the sound of his father’s rage. Or the smell of whiskey and sweat, and what often came with the mingling of those two.
Billy Ray shifted into reverse and eased out of the parking spot. And what of letting go of the unbearably sweet? Memories so pure they brought an ache a thousand times more brutal than his old man’s drunken rage.
Memories of True.
No, he amended. She had been sweet. But his memories of her were bittersweet, indeed. Of not being able to put her out of his thoughts. Of thinking of her day and night, dreaming of her. That she needed him. That she was in danger.
And in the end, it seemed, she had been. If only he’d done more. Been more insistent. Whisked her away. She would be here today. Safe.
But he hadn’t been insistent enough, hadn’t whisked her away. So now, all he had left was the ability to make it right.
Something terrible had happened in those woods, something just too painful for Bailey Abbott to remember. And he meant to find out what.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Sunday, April 20
11:15 A.M.
Sunday mornings Billy Ray slept in. He worshipped at First Baptist’s nine-thirty service, then stopped and ate a big breakfast at Faye’s. She always had a place at the counter waiting for him; he always left the waitress a big tip and on his way out always stopped at a half-dozen tables for a hello and handshake. Today had been no different.
Now he stepped out into the bright spring day, slipping on his shades. It was going to be a muggy one, he thought, ambling to the cruiser. The radio crackled as he settled behind the wheel.
“Chief, you there?”
He snatched it up. “Ten-four, Robin. What’s up?”
“Travis Jenkins just called. He’s worried ’bout his youngest, Dixie.”
“What about her?”
“She didn’t come home the last two nights and Jo-Jo from the Dairy Freeze told him she’d seen Dixie’s Mustang parked up at The Landing. Saw it on his way to work yesterday and on his way home, too. Travis doesn’t think that’s right. He called the friends she went out with Friday night, Katie Walton and Lea Johnson, but they hadn’t seen her since then.”
“I’m heading that way now. Have Earl meet me there.”
The Landing was a honky-tonk just inside the Wholesome city limits. A popular spot for farmhands and horse folk, the down-on-their-luck and the high-and-mighty. They served up cold beer and country music, a powerful combination after a long, hot day in the sun.
He should know, a Saturday night didn’t go by without at least one call to break up a fight.
He had a pretty good idea how this was going to turn out. Dixie had a wild streak about a mile wide and liked men, probably more than she should. No doubt she hooked up with someone and the last thing on her mind had been Daddy worrying over her whereabouts.
Billy Ray reached the bar and saw that Earl had beat him there. The youngest officer on the force, Earl Stroup had graduated from Covington High a scant two and a half years ago. Tall and gangly, the twenty-one-year-old hadn’t even grown into his frame yet.
Billy Ray stopped his cruiser beside Earl’s. Sure enough, Dixie Jenkins’s battered red Mustang sat all by itself in a back corner of The Landing’s parking lot.
Earl met him and together they crossed to the ’stang. They reached the passenger side first, and Billy Ray peered inside. Keys in the ignition, driver’s-side door cracked open.
His heart sank. It was too soon for another one. It’d only been since January. Less than three full months.
Earl looked at him. “She left the keys in the ignition.”
“Yup.”
“And her cell phone, there on the seat.”
Earl had a habit of stating the obvious. Usually, it didn’t much bother him, but at the moment it was bugging the crap out of him.
“What’d she do that for?”
Billy Ray didn’t answer, just went around to the driver’s side. “Look here, Earl, door’s not shut tight.”
Earl stared stupidly a moment, then the color left his already pale face. His mass of freckles stood out starkly against the white.
“Oh, shit,” he said. “This is like Amanda LaPier. And the other one.”
Two others, unless you counted True. Most folks didn’t, ’cause they were scared, but Billy Ray had heard their whispers.
He turned to Earl. “Listen to me, Stroup, you are a sworn officer of the Wholesome Police Department. If you’re going to work this case you damn well remember that.”
“Yessir.”
“You don’t talk about this with anybody.”
“Yessir.”
He looked terrified. Billy Ray remembered looking that way himself, once upon a time. And his uncle giving him the exact same speech.
“This is a small town, and people talk. They ask questions. You just keep your head down and do your job. None of that concerns you.”
“Yessir.”
“Now, go grab us some gloves. If you don’t have any, I’ve got extra in my console. And bring me my camera, it’s there, too.”
Moments later, gloves on and camera hanging from a strap around his neck, he examined the driver’s-side door panel.
“This could be nothing, Earl. But since this scene is so similar to the others, we have to take every precaution.” He indicated the door. “When you got here, the door was open?”
“I don’t know if it was open, but I didn’t touch it. Or anything else. Just waited for you.”