“Yes, it is,” Logan said. “Now, if you’ll excuse us—”
But the man ducked past Logan and into the foyer. “How about your memory, Mrs. Abbott? Has it started coming back?”
Blood. On her hands and lap.
A dream? Or a memory?
Logan answered for her. “Not yet, Billy Ray. You’ll be the first person we call.”
Bailey frowned slightly. Obviously, he hadn’t wanted Billy Ray to know about the gunshot or blood. Because it might have been her imagination? Or because of something else?
“Bailey was just going up for a rest. I’m afraid you’ll have to come back another—”
“I have news.”
She looked at Logan, then back at the lawman. “What news?”
“About Henry’s blood.”
Red. Everywhere. Her hands and jeans.
“I got a report back from the lab. I was right. Not all that blood was yours.”
The strangest sensation came over her. A chill that started at the top of her head and eased downward.
“Blood belonged to a male. Type matched old Henry’s.”
“Oh, my God.”
That had come from Raine. She stood as if frozen, face as bloodless as a ghost’s.
“He’s guessing it’s Henry’s,” Logan said. “DNA profiling takes weeks. Even months.”
Billy Ray smirked. “But basic serology is quick.”
Bailey looked up at Logan. “I can’t … Do you think … Could I have seen Henry … shot?”
“Must have been more than saw him,” Billy Ray said. “Otherwise how’d you get all that blood on your—”
“Shut up, Billy Ray! You don’t know for sure it’s even Henry’s blood.”
“Who else’s could it be!” Bailey got to her feet, legs shaking so badly, she feared she might fall. She grasped the banister for support. “It must be his.… How did I end up with Henry’s blood all over me!”
“My question exactly, Mrs. Abbott.”
“I told you, I don’t remember!”
“How about the last time you saw him alive?”
Henry. Alive. She brought a hand to her head, to the bandages that covered her wound. “I don’t … recently … it must have been. We talked about True.”
The words landed with a silent roar. All three looked at her.
Logan held a hand out. “What did you say?”
She stared at him, heart thundering. Head pounding. “Nothing. I didn’t say…” Her vision blurred. “No. That was a mistake. I don’t know why I said that.”
“Yes, you do,” Billy Ray said. “Tell me, when did you last see him?”
“He was my friend.” Her tears spilled over and she brought a hand to her mouth. She’d always wondered why people did that, and now she knew. To hold back the sounds of their pain, as if holding them back somehow kept the hurt at bay. “I don’t remember.”
Logan moved to take her into his arms. “Sweetheart, I’m so—”
She pushed him away. “Don’t touch me. You must have known this. All that blood … how else … you must have—”
“I didn’t want to upset you.”
“You see why it’s so important you talk to me,” Billy Ray said, taking a step toward her. “Who knows what he will or won’t tell you?”
“You son of a bitch!” Logan lunged at Billy Ray, knocking him into the entryway table. A lamp crashed to the floor.
Raine jumped in, dragging Logan back. “Don’t! He wants you to hit him!”
Bailey stared at them.
“Who knows what he will or won’t tell you?”
“Ask him about True.”
Ask him.
About True.
True. What happened to True?
“Stop it!” she shouted, and pain knifed through her skull. She did it again anyway. “Both of you! Leave me alone!”
She turned and ran up the stairs to the bedroom and locked the door behind her. There, pain crashed down on her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Sunday, April 20
5:10 P.M.
Billy Ray stared after Bailey, her words reverberating in his head. To leave her alone, go away. He couldn’t breathe. As if something from the depths of his being was spilling forth, like helium filling a balloon to bursting. Until there was room for nothing else in its skin.
“You son of a bitch.”
Billy Ray jerked his gaze to Logan.
“You leave her alone. Do you hear me? You leave us alone!”
Billy Ray didn’t respond. He turned to go; Logan grabbed his arm, stopping him. “That’s my wife, and she’s carrying my child. And I swear to God, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect what’s mine.”
He released him. “Now get the hell out of my house!”
Billy Ray half stumbled, half ran to his cruiser. He felt sick. If he puked in front of Abbott, he’d know just how personal this was.
“You’ve got to stop this, Billy Ray.”
“You’ve got to leave me alone now.”
He started the vehicle and tore out, spitting gravel up as he did. He made it past the barn and through the main gates and onto the road before he had to pull the cruiser over. He climbed out and stumbled to the side and vomited.
Billy Ray retched until he thought there could be nothing left inside him. Empty. He was completely empty.
He made it back into the vehicle and slumped behind the wheel. The image of Bailey Abbott’s stricken face taunted him. The way True’s did. Expression afraid. And lost. So very vulnerable it tore him apart.
True. She was right there, where she lived in his head, so real he was sure that if he could find a way to crawl inside himself, he could hold her in his arms.
She was beckoning him. To try. To open the door, step through. Join her.
Billy Ray looked at his hands. They were shaking. He was so tired of fighting the memories and feelings, stuffing them deep down, so deep they occupied the very marrow of his being. Holding them there. He was tired, so tired.
So he let go, and she was opening her front door. His knees went weak at the sight of her.
“What are you doing here, Billy Ray?”
She looked over his shoulder as if expecting to see someone else with him.
“Just checking on you, True. Making sure you’re okay.”
Her smile looked stiff. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Was she teasing him? Or did she really want him to spell it out for her? “Can I come in?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Logan wouldn’t like it.”