“But he’s out of town.”
A wrinkle formed between her eyebrows. “How’d you know that, Billy Ray?”
He hadn’t meant to make her feel uncomfortable. “This is a small town, everybody knows everything.”
“You still can’t come in. Logan’s my husband, and if he wouldn’t like something, I don’t do it. Out of respect.”
No wonder he loved her. “Can we talk out here?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “I suppose so.” She stepped the rest of the way out onto the porch and closed the door behind her. “What’s on your mind?”
“You, True.”
“You’ve got to stop this, Billy Ray—”
“No, wait! I know some things about this family and I think you need—”
“No.” She held up a hand, obviously upset. “I know about this family. I know how sad—”
“And about Logan. He’s a bad guy, True. You’ve got to believe me. The woman who went missing, she wasn’t the only one. Five years ago—”
“No.” She shook her head. “I love Logan. He wouldn’t hurt me or anybody else.”
“Please, True. Just listen to me.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. You’ll find somebody. The right girl.”
He didn’t respond and she squeezed his hand. “You’ve got to leave me alone now. And if you don’t, I’m going to have to do something about it.”
“I have to save you, True.”
“I know, Billy Ray,” she said, her expression as sad as any he’d ever seen. “And you are a sweet, sweet man. But you have to believe me now, I don’t need saving.”
A truck rumbled past, the driver honking in greeting. Billy Ray snapped back to the present. He realized he had been crying and wiped his eyes and sat up straight. He couldn’t save True. Not then and certainly not now.
But Bailey, he could. And her unborn child. It wasn’t too late for them. He fastened his safety belt and pulled onto the highway. If it cost him his last breath, he would see to it that Logan Abbott never hurt another woman.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Sunday, April 20
6:05 P.M.
Stephanie Rodriguez sat on her small front porch, a drink cradled in her hands, staring out at the pasture and the waning day. An idyllic scene: the three mares grazing, her chestnut, Molly, stopping every so often to whinny softly at her.
The animal had picked up on her distress. They were amazing creatures. Sensitive. Capable of a range of emotion. Of devotion.
If Stephanie would allow herself to be soothed, Molly could do it. But Stephanie wasn’t ready to feel better. Tears stung her eyes and she brought the glass to her lips and sipped. The alcohol burned, but she welcomed its sting.
Uncle Henry was dead. Shot in the back by some idiot with a rifle and more than likely a belly full of beer.
She took another sip, acknowledging anger. At the gun-happy, trespassing son of a bitch who did it. But also at herself. Why had she allowed him to continue to live out there alone? She should have convinced him to come live with her here, at her farm.
Truth was, she’d hardly even tried. Asked when she should have insisted. Bought into her own self-assurances. If she was vigilant, all would be well.
But it wasn’t well. Now he was gone.
And she was alone.
From inside came the sound of the phone. She left the call for voice mail to answer; she didn’t have the heart for another condolence or the inevitable questions that followed. The calls had been coming nonstop. As much with concern as curiosity.
From one of the callers she’d learned about Bailey’s accident. Her amnesia. The fact it had happened the same day as Uncle Henry had been shot. One neighbor had actually posed aloud what the rest of them had been salivating to know: What really happened out in those woods?
The sound of tires on her gravel drive drew her attention. A Wholesome police cruiser.
Billy Ray.
Once upon a time she would have waved and waited for him, or run to meet him. Flung herself into his arms. Stephanie closed her eyes, and pushed aside the memories of those times. She couldn’t change the past. She understood that just as clearly as she believed she could control the present—and the person she would become.
Billy Ray no longer had the ability to hurt her. Because she wouldn’t allow him that power, and it was her choice how the next few minutes would go.
She stood as he drew to a stop, watched as he climbed out of the cruiser and crossed to her.
“Billy Ray,” she said when he stopped at the bottom of the porch steps and looked up.
“Hello, Steph.”
“What’re you doing out here?”
“Came to make certain you were doing all right.”
“Seeing is believing. I’m dandy. You can go now.”
He nudged his hat back so he could see her better. “I’m really sorry about Henry.”
Tears pricked her eyes and she cursed them. She would not cry in front of this man. Never again. “Why are you really here, Billy Ray?”
“I tried to call. You didn’t answer.”
“Because it was you calling.” She folded her arms across her chest. “What do you want? If this is just more of your nonsense, I really don’t have time for it.”
“It’s an official visit from the chief of police. If you call that ‘nonsense.’”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Village of Wholesome, population seven hundred.”
“That used to be good enough for you, Steph.”
“And so was baby food.”
His mouth tightened. She’d hit her mark. “I came to talk to you about Bailey Abbott.”
“Surprise, surprise.”
“I don’t want to fight with you.”
Of course he didn’t. To him, she’d never been worth fighting for.
“When’d you see her last?”
“A little over a week ago. Right before all that rain.”
“Friday.”
She thought a moment. “That’s right.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“What was the purpose of her visit?”
“The purpose of … Really? You have to ask that?” Stephanie made a sound of disbelief. “We’re friends. You know that. Obviously.”
“And friends talk.”
“Of course.”
“What did you talk about that day?”
“None of your damn business!”
He flushed slightly. “You heard about her accident?”