The First Wife

They fell silent. Bailey tried one more time. “You found something, didn’t you?”

Stephanie glanced at her, then back at the road. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”

“Okay, I get that.”

“What about you?” She flexed her fingers on the wheel again. “You said you had questions you needed answered. Did you get what you went for?”

Names. Confirmation.

“I did.”

“Anything you’re ready to talk about?”

She hesitated, then nodded. Stephanie was the only real friend she had. “Pull over, Steph. There’s something I have to tell you.”

Stephanie turned into an empty church parking lot, cut the engine and turned to face her. “You’ve got my full attention.”

“I’ve remembered the day of the accident. Most of it, anyway.”

Stephanie had gone very still. Instinctively, Bailey thought. As if afraid any movement would cause Bailey to change her mind or her memory to evaporate again.

“I visited Henry that day. I talked to him.”

“How was he?”

Her question came out choked. Yearning.

“He was good, Steph. He was … Henry.”

Stephanie’s eyes flooded with tears. She blinked to chase them away, but several escaped and rolled down her cheeks. She swiped at them as if irritated with herself. “If only I’d gone out there myself. I would have seen him one last time. Maybe he would be alive. Inside with me, safe. That hunter—”

“He wasn’t killed by a hunter.”

“How do you—” Her eyes widened. “You remembered—”

“Hear me out, then you decide. When I got there that day, Henry had something for me. A … box. A handmade box that—” She cleared her throat. “Logan’s initials were on it. And a date. May 2, 1988.”

“What was—”

“Inside? An assortment of things. A necklace and hair clip, a girl’s class ring. A lipstick. A couple others.”

“Uncle Henry was always finding stuff in the woods. Trash, lost items.”

“He told me when he found the box, the items were already in it.”

“Okay.”

She didn’t get it. “I wanted to look at Billy Ray’s notes on the missing women. To see if I could link any of the items to them.”

Stephanie was staring blankly at her. Bailey went on. “The necklace was an initial pendant. The letter N. The girl who was strangled back in 2005 was named—”

“Nicole. Oh, my God.”

“And the class ring was from Covington High, class of 2010. The year Amanda LaPier—”

“Graduated.”

She’d gone white. “Yes.”

“Uncle Henry thought he’d found a treasure chest. But he’d found a little box of horrors.”

Stephanie was silent a moment. When she spoke again, Bailey heard hope in her voice. “Do you think, maybe … it’s nothing. Just what Uncle Henry thought? Innocent?”

“Innocent.” Such a beautiful word. “Until today I thought maybe … I’d hoped that, too. But the coincidence of the necklace and ring … I don’t have any doubt, not anymore.”

“Did Uncle Henry say where he’d found it?”

“The hay barn.”

“The—” She stopped, the look of horror coming over her face again. “Where Roane— The perfect spot. No one goes out there anymore.”

“Right. In fact, nobody was supposed to go out there. That’s what Henry said. He thought I was mad about it.”

Stephanie frowned. “Who told him that?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say, but I would assume Logan or Paul.”

“Or Raine. Oh, my God, Billy Ray. He was looking for the box.”

“Maybe.”

“Otherwise, what happened to it?”

“The sheriff’s deputies may have collected it, when they searched Henry’s after his murder.”

Stephanie drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “One problem. It’s seems to me, if they’d found that they would have been all over Logan. They would have questioned me. Henry would’ve been considered a suspect.”

“You’re right, I hadn’t thought of that.” She pursed her lips. “Billy Ray was out there, you were certain he’d been inside the cabin. You saw him putting something in his trunk.”

Stephanie nodded. “That was it, the box.”

It made sense. “So where is it now? In the hands of the deputies? Or still in his trunk?”

“The deputies have to have it,” Stephanie said. “It’s a surefire way to fry Logan.”

“No,” Bailey said, realizing something she hadn’t before. “It would muddy the water.”

“What do you mean?”

“Billy Ray has to tell him where he found it. Like you said, if he took it from Henry’s, it casts suspicion on Henry.”

“So, he plants it wherever it’s most likely to damage Logan.” Stephanie met Bailey’s eyes. “The search warrant, Billy Ray was certain they’d be granted one. He was practically giggling about it.”

“He’s stashed the box on Abbott Farm. Of course he did.” Bailey’s heart sank and she curved her arms around her middle. “What do we do? It could be anywhere.”

“You go to the police. Tell them the story. Tell them about your memory returning.”

“They won’t believe me. They’ll think I’m trying to save my husband. Because of the baby. Or because I’m blinded by love. They’ll think that I somehow found out about him, what he is and … Women do that. You hear about it all the time.”

“Are you one of those women, Bailey? One who can be blinded by love?”

“No.” The word spilled forcefully past her lips and she felt as if a giant weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “No, I’m not. And Logan isn’t a killer.”

“Hold off on the sheriff for a few hours. I’m paying Billy Ray a visit. I’m going to get him to talk.”

“How?”

“I think I have something on him. Something big.”

Stephanie didn’t want to say what it was; they rode the rest of the way to the farm in silence.

Paul was waiting for her. When Stephanie stopped the truck, he strode over and yanked open her door. “What the hell, Bailey! Where were you?”

“Obviously,” Stephanie answered for her, hopping out, “she was with me. What’s up?”

“It’s Logan.”

“Oh, my God—” Bailey slid out of the truck. “What’s happened, Paul? Is he all right—”