“Because you’re trying to hide from me. Since that night we were at Bert’s.”
“I’ve not seen you but one day since that night at Bert’s.” He’d been in one corner of the county, she’d been in another, or off in Finley Creek reinterviewing witnesses.
And they’d both taken this particular weekend off.
"You’re angry with me. No doubt I deserve it.”
His hands were on her waist, and he held her still. Bailey's hands rose to press against the soft cotton of his T-shirt.
Clay Addy was tall, strong, and beautiful. But he was the most confusing man on the entire planet. "Because—"
"Of what?"
"Because even before April, you made it clear you didn’t want me around!”
She yelled. Bailey hadn’t yelled at someone since she’d yelled at Kevin Beck the day he’d taken her father away.
She'd crossed the front porch and hit the detective with everything she had after he had passed her father off to another officer. Kevin had just picked her up and held her. Probably the same way he would have held his own daughters when they had been hurting.
After that day, her own father hadn't held her again. Her mother had kept her away from her father from that day forward.
The next time she had seen him had been the day he had almost let his friends kill her.
She couldn't remember the last time since she'd been a child that someone had pushed her to the point of yelling.
But this man...he brought her to that point so easily. Bailey closed her eyes and brought herself back under control. Defeat filled her. He had her so confused she was starting to lose all the ground she’d gained over the past four months. "You win, Clay. I’m leaving. As soon as I finish this case. I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of fighting you for the right to even be here. I’m just so tired of fighting you right now."
He softened beneath her hands. As much as a strong man could. Just softened. Large hands cupped her cheeks. His hands were cool on her overheated skin. Bailey stared into his eyes. Waiting.
"I don't want to fight you. Or for you to feel you have to fight me. Far from it. I just want to keep you safe...from all of this. From the world of the TSP. It's all I have ever wanted for you."
Why didn’t he understand that she didn’t need him to protect her? Not now anyway. Bailey hadn’t ever had someone actually want to protect her like this. Except for Bert and Jake.
"Why? Because you think I'm just a kid? Or something else?" Because worrying about her distracted him. Made him unable to do his job.
She could understand part of that. He had her so on edge she could barely concentrate on breathing when he was around.
"Something far, far different. I have never thought of you as a kid; not from the moment you walked into my office."
Bailey jerked out of his arms before something stupid happened.
She wasn't an idiot. She'd heard the heat in his words. The attraction.
That was what had her running now. Because she was so not ready to deal with the heat between them.
Distraction.
Now it was starting to make sense.
She stalked across the garbanzo bean field, careful not to damage any plants.
Bailey didn't know where she was going, but putting space between her and Clay was her only thought.
"Bailey, wait!"
She turned slightly to the look at the man behind her.
He'd taken off his cowboy hat.
The sun was behind him, making him look even bigger than what he was.
Bailey turned away, then veered back toward his behemoth of a truck. "I have to be back in the station at nine tomorrow. Forensics should be back by then. I’m going to finish this case—then I’m transferring to Finley Creek. I'd like to get home so that I can enjoy the rest of my day off. I think it’s best if we just stay far away from each other from now on."
"Bailey! Stop! Don't move!"
The urgency in his voice had her freezing.
That's when she saw.
Saw the overturned earth in the midst of Lamar Sandoval's bean field, and the small white tennis shoe sticking through it.
She couldn't help it. All her training aside, Bailey screamed.
Clay's hands slipped around her waist, and he pulled her away from the body before she could damage any more of the evidence.
Chapter 44
Clay called in every deputy he had. This grave wasn't thirty years old. He'd eat his hat if it was three weeks old. Possibly even less than a week.
Bailey had pulled herself together and started cordoning off the scene from the spare bag of supplies Clay carried in his truck.
It was an incongruous sight. His deputy was wearing green, but it was the green of an apple, offset by gunmetal-gray baseball pants. And cleats with hot pink strings. But Bailey was a professional. She didn't seem to care what she was wearing.
Jeremy and Ralley were the first to arrive, followed by Lamar Sandoval and his pregnant wife, Becky—relieving one of the first fears Clay had had, that it was Cam Lake’s younger sister in that fresh grave.
Pregnant women made up fifteen percent of female homicide deaths—usually at the hands of their significant others.
Yes, he was greatly relieved to see Becky Sandoval right there. Even though Lamar Sandoval was a good man, he’d seen it happen before.
Clay spent a few moments talking to the Sandovals, checking that they didn’t know of someone in their immediate sphere that was missing. Becky stepped aside to call her sisters quickly.
Then it was work as usual.
He would have to deal with what had almost happened between him and Bailey later. When this was figured out.
It was damned clear that this was a murder. Women didn't bury themselves in the middle of a good man's bean field.
"She's wrapped in plastic. Cellophane cling wrap," Bailey said, stepping up behind him. "Like the others."
He nodded. It was very clear that it was plastic cling wrap stuck to the blond woman's face. That was a detail only he and Bailey had been aware of.
It hadn’t been leaked.
Chances of them having a copycat in this area were extremely slim.
Now he had a tenuous connection between this woman and bodies spanning thirty years. A terrifying thought.
The implications of that wasn’t lost on him, and when he looked at Bailey, he knew she felt it too. “It’s not a cold case any longer.”
Chapter 45
Charlie was careful to keep his hat low over his face and his faded work shirt buttoned to the collar. Nothing at all like the suit-wearing attorney he used to be. Everything had come crashing down around him. HIs own fault.
Charlie just hoped that those he’d left behind were ok. They ate at him. The girl he’d loved like his own from the moment she’d been born. And her son, the only grandchild Charlie would ever have. How were they, now that they’d been reunited with the rest of the family?
He had no doubts that her brothers and sisters were doing what they could to ease her way, but they were busy people with busy lives of their own.
But Lou’s words and convictions the other night had made him doubt whether he could stay. And now there he was.
Celia was inside that clinic right there. He could see the car she’d been driving when he’d tracked her from her sister’s that morning.
She’d dropped little Cameron off with Ronnie and her brood, and then Celia had come here.
It no doubt didn’t pay nearly what her job in Oklahoma had. His girl had worked so damned hard to get her degree and establish herself up in their old neighborhood.
She’d worked that job for four years, returning to work when Cameron was only eight weeks old.
He hated that she’d given that up to work in this place. Not much room for advancement here. He’d followed her for a few days now.
Since Lou had shown up, ranting about a possible serial killer. If he hadn’t heard about that woman killed and dump
ed on Lamar’s land this morning on his disposable phone, Charlie would have just discounted it.
But with that body—and everyone talking online about how it had resembled the mayor’s wife—he wasn’t taking any chances.
He was just going to stick around and make certain Celia was safe.
It was the only thing he could do.
He loved that girl; even with what he’d done, she was as close to a daughter as he would ever have. Charlie would die to protect her, if that’s what it took.
Until this killer was gone, he wasn’t going anywhere.
Chapter 46
People liked to watch her. That was probably one of the few things Celia hated about living in Value.
Everyone knew her as the girl who had been kidnapped by Charlie Lake twenty years ago. Just like Bailey Moore was the girl abducted by Charlie four months ago. No doubt they watched Bailey, too.
Some speculated her uncle had been a pedophile, and she had been his victim. A few less socially well-adjusted citizens of Value had asked her if that was true. Jerks.
Some just wanted the gruesome details of whatever she’d supposedly endured.
Some just wanted to look and point.
Celia told herself that that was probably all that was going on now. Still, she hated feeling like a coward.
It was just a red truck.
That was all.
Just a red truck heading down Main Street.
She'd seen it before several times. Something about it just didn't feel right. When it circled the block again Celia looked around and realized no one else was around except for Mr. Schumacher clear at the end of the street. She wasn't stupid.
Celia opened the first public door she passed and stepped inside. Once inside, the cool rush of air hit her. And she realized that she had never been inside the minuscule two room building where Jake Dillon spent half of his time.
The baby was fussing nearby. She looked around the corner and saw the back half of Jake's wheelchair. She could hear him as he softly sang a lullaby. Some of the fear plaguing her dissipated. He called out that he would be with her in just a moment.
"Take your time, Jake. I'm in no rush.” She wasn't about to leave as long as that red truck was out there. Maybe she was just being foolish—but her sister had called her three hours ago, afraid she’d been murdered.
That left an impression.
Jake came rolling into view, his baby snuggled on his lap.
Jake smiled at her, “Hello, Celia. Welcome to the Value Public Library. I am your librarian—this is my trusty assistant." His hand was steady on his son as he used his other hand on the remote of the chair. "How can we help you?”
"I—I got nervous. After what happened at my sister’s this morning. There was this red truck...he circled around the block a few times. Staring. I think I may have overreacted."
“You should. Did you get the license plate?”
“No. I wasn’t thinking.”
“I’ll let Bailey know.”
"I'm sure I'm just being a bit overly sensitive, but...”
"Well, Ms. Lake, the young Mr. Dillon and I were actually on our way to the diner to grab lunch. Well...to grab lunch for me and possibly mashed potatoes or peas for him. Would you like to join us? Liam is a great conversationalist."
Celia had been on her way to the diner. She nodded yes before she could think about refusing any longer.
Chapter 47
The truck he drove was a far cry from the luxury sedan he’d babied for so long. He suspected Celia had sold it. He hadn’t seen it in her drive any of the times he’d driven by her home.
She hadn’t been a few minutes ago, either. He could tell that easily enough, even though night had fallen twenty minutes ago.
She’d been out late tonight, working at that clinic again.
He’d stayed close to her while she’d locked up the rehabilitative center, headed to Ronnie’s and grabbed Cameron, then drove to the little place she now rented.
It was a step down from the large home they’d shared in Oklahoma. She should have stayed there. Charlie had made certain the house was in her name and hers alone.
Hopefully she had made a good profit off of it. Maybe put some of the money back for Cameron’s education.
This little house she rented three blocks from the center of town was neat as a pin, at least. Lamar owned it. A smart, savvy businessman was Becky’s husband. A good man, too, who loved his children and his family.
Lamar was there for Becky every time she needed him. Same way with George and Charlie’s niece Veronica. They’d found good men.
He wished Celia had. Wished she hadn’t had to be so alone back in April.
His fault once again.
Charlie was thinking over what he could have done differently as he drove out of town toward his commandeered cabin when the truck in front of him slammed on his brakes. Before Charlie’s eyes, the big monstrosity slid straight into the back of the dump truck in front of him.
Charlie was back far enough.
He jerked his truck to the left, crossing the center line. He closed his eyes. Stupid of him, no doubt. But he couldn’t watch as he hit. Couldn’t watch as he died.
Charlie’s face slammed into the old steering wheel. His neck jerked back.
This was the way he was going to go. He wondered if his family would even bother to pay to bury him after what he had done.
He wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t.
Those were the thoughts that rushed through his mind in those split seconds before the truck stopped moving.
When he opened his eyes again he faced blackness. It took him a moment to realize it was because he was nose deep in the ditch.
His damned truck wasn’t going to be able to go anywhere.
Charlie had to get out of there. That damned Clay Addy and his people would be showing up soon.
Chapter 48
Bailey fought exhaustion. She and Clay had overseen the processing of the scene well into the next afternoon. They’d traded off taking breaks and catnaps when they could. The woman had been relatively easy to identify. She was a known junkie with a three-foot-long rap sheet in Barrattville, with drug and prostitution charges. And a seven-year-old daughter.
But that was just the first step. Now they had to find out where she’d been and who she had been with.
It put what she and Clay had been arguing about far on the back burner. So they’d almost kissed in Bert’s hallway. Big deal. Give them a few days and they’d forget about it completely. She already had.
Mostly.
Right now, she was too damned tired to even care if she’d kissed half the FCU baseball team in one night.
He said very little as he drove them to the woman’s home on the south side of Barrattville. Bailey took a quick look at him. “Do you think this woman is connected to my cold cases?”
“I’m not sure. She’s the right build and coloring. Age. But we need to remember—your cold cases were decades ago. Why now?”
“Good point.” She was going to say more, but the radio crackled.
Clay answered the call.
There wouldn’t be this.
Clay turned on the siren and pushed the pedal to the floor.
“Tighten your seatbelt. Tonight’s going to be a hard one.”
“What is it?”
“MVA. Veri says at least ten cars. We’re most likely facing casualties.” He glanced at her. “Push it out of your head until we’re done. Just focus on what we have to do.”
Bailey flinched. A small TSP force like theirs was always going to be pulled into a thousand different directions each day.
She wouldn’t have that problem at Finley Creek. Lab work was most often scheduled work.
It wouldn’t involve the knowledge that they were about to drive up on someone’s nightmares.
Chapter 49
Bailey saw the sirens first. Jeremy and Ralley were already out there, as were the fire department and every amb
ulance in Barratt County. Clay had called in to Finley Creek for more.
It was going to be bad.
She could see the flames now. “Clay...”
“I know. Listen. Pick a first responder, medical personnel. Stick with that responder, do what they need you to do. Move from car to car but keep yourself safe. Priority of life. You can’t help anyone if you’re the one hurt. It’s going to be slick out there, and there’s going to be blood. You’ve been trained for this.”
She nodded. “I know. Don’t worry about me.”
“I’m probably always going to. I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”
The first person she saw when she and Clay jumped out of his patrol vehicle was a woman wearing dark scrubs and thick glasses. “Nikkie Jean!”
Nikkie Jean stopped her mad dash toward the ambulances and came toward Bailey instead. “Bailey. I have a family of three—parents need help getting out of the vehicle. And I need to get back to the kid on the rear passenger. It doesn’t look good. I need help, now!”
Bailey shot one more look at Clay as he ran as much as he was able on the wet pavement toward the head of the first responders. “Let’s go.”
The mother was screaming.
Bailey would never forget how the mother was screaming, trapped between her mostly unconscious husband and the side of the ditch. The car had turned at an angle that almost didn’t look possible.
“We need to get him out first,” Nikkie Jean said. “But I don’t know how.”
“We’ll have to break the window out, Nik.” A paramedic Bailey didn’t recognize said from behind them. He went to work.
Within moments, they had pulled the father out and passed him on to the waiting paramedics. Bailey and Nikkie Jean pulled the resisting mother next. At the angle they were at, the tall, strong paramedic had been too big to get inside. But she and Nikkie Jean—they had been small enough to fit inside the almost crushed economy sedan.
Nikkie Jean was more in charge than Bailey. She had the mother facing her straight on. “We need you out of the way so we can get to them!”
Holding the Truth Page 13