7:25 P.M.
Stephanie turned off Hay Hollow Road and onto the gravel drive that led to Henry’s cabin. One last, private good-bye. Before she cleaned the place out and packed Henry’s things up. To sit by herself and remember the fun they’d had. And what an important person he had been in her life. Before the accident. And after.
She thought of the day he had been trampled. Her dad had forced her to visit him in the hospital. She remembered being so frightened, she’d been unable to look at him. Logan’s mother had been there, sitting beside the bed.
She had motioned Stephanie to her side. “Your uncle’s a beautiful person,” she’d said. “That kind of beauty comes from the inside, not the outside. I still see it. Don’t you?”
Stephanie remembered taking a peek at him. His mangled face, the bandages and tubes and something coming over her. An awareness of what Elisabeth Abbott meant. Of the beauty that was her uncle Henry.
She’d never been afraid of him again. And even after it’d become clear that the worst, most permanent damage had occurred to his brain, she had seen that beauty.
All the best had been left. Kindness, childlike acceptance. She’d never seen him get angry or frustrated. He’d always been grateful, even for the small things. Truth was, he hadn’t differentiated that way. He’d lost that kind of measuring stick, one that led to dissatisfaction and unhappiness. She wondered if he’d ever had it.
Stephanie flipped on her headlights. The funeral hadn’t offered her the chance for reflection. No, it had been an opportunity for everyone else to say good-bye and to share their memories of him.
Until Billy Ray had turned what had been beautiful into a circus sideshow.
Just thinking of it caused her blood pressure to rise. She’d been furious with him, she still was. She was hurt.
He cared so little for her. So little for Henry.
It had always been about Billy Ray’s agenda.
She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She’d heard it said that the line between love and hate was razor thin. This morning it had become a chasm. She would never love Billy Ray again.
Henry’s cabin came into view. With a sinking heart, she saw that her desire for privacy had been wishful thinking. Billy Ray, back to her as he set something in the cruiser’s trunk. Hearing the crunch of her tires on the gravel, he slammed the trunk and turned to face her.
The silly, self-satisfied smile on his face was the last straw. The fury she had swallowed all day came roaring back. White-hot. Using her uncle’s funeral as a way to stick it to Logan. As a way to embarrass him and his family as much, and as deeply, as he could.
For not loving her. For breaking her heart.
It was all she could do not to hit the gas and pin him between her vehicle and his. Instead, she drew to a careful stop and cut the engine. He crossed to the car and opened the door for her. As if nothing had happened.
“Hey Steph. What’re you doing—”
“You son of a bitch!” She lunged at him, knocking him backward. She followed, flailing at him. One fist caught the side of his neck. Another his chest, then shoulder. “How dare you!”
“Whoa! Steph … What the—”
He caught her hands, so she kicked him instead. “How could you pull that stunt? Uncle Henry was the sweetest man.… He couldn’t hurt a flea and you show up to his funeral and do that?”
“Just listen! Let me—”
“No! I’ll never listen to you again! I’ll never—”
He dragged her against him, pinning her to his chest, holding her so tightly she couldn’t fight. Still, she tried until both the energy and will had drained out of her.
She broke down and he loosened his hold while she cried and clung to him. “How could you? How could you … do … that?”
“It wasn’t my decision, Steph. It was theirs, the sheriff’s detectives.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true. I’m just assisting them.”
“And you couldn’t talk them out of arresting him at Henry’s funeral? He wasn’t going anywhere!”
“Abbott’s got friends at the sheriff’s office. Someone who has fed him information before. They were afraid someone would tip him and he’d flee.”
“Flee?” Stephanie stepped away from him, her legs wobbly. “And go where? This is his home.”
Billy Ray shook his head. “People with means can make a new home anywhere.”
In that moment, she realized that Billy Ray—who had lived here in Wholesome all his life—didn’t know the real meaning of home.
Thank God he hadn’t loved her. Thank God she’d let him go.
As if sensing a change in her, he frowned. “Logan’s a bad guy, Stephanie. Worse than a bad guy. A killer. A serial killer.”
She laughed. It slipped unbidden past her lips. “Seriously, Billy Ray? A serial killer? Logan Abbott?”
“This isn’t only about True. Who do you think took Trista Hook, Amanda LaPier and now Dixie Jenkins? Who do you think killed Nicole Grace, all those years ago? Who knows, maybe he killed his mother, too.”
“My God, you’re serious.”
“Damn right, I am.”
“His dad was convicted of pushing her overboard.”
“And who testified against him? That family, Steph, think about it. So much death. Too much to be a coincidence.”
Logan’s father and mother. His brother and wife. Now, Uncle Henry. “So, you’ve got him now.”
“Yes.”
“How? What do you have on him?”
“Enough.” He hesitated. “A witness saw Dixie getting into his truck the night she disappeared.”
Stephanie hadn’t expected that. Something so … damning. “Oh, my God. Poor Bailey.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Bailey’s lucky. She could’ve ended up like True. Or the others.”
Stephanie couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Logan, whom she had known all her life. Who had never been anything but kind to her.
What did she believe?
Not that. Maybe later, but not now.
“We’ll have a search warrant for the property in the morning. All ninety acres.”
“And your dreams will finally have come true.”
“Don’t be that way.”