“No. I never saw her again. I swear.”

“Did you stay at home all night?”

“No. I was restless and left about eight. I spent the night drinking and going from bar to bar.”

“Annie’s sister came by her house at about eight thirty. She knocked on the door but realized it was open. She heard the baby crying and then saw the blood. She rushed to the nursery, picked up the baby, and called the cops.”

“I know. I heard the story a million times. The house was doused in blood and there weren’t no sign of Annie’s body. Cops said there was no way she could have survived that kind of blood loss. I felt sick. I’d lost the one person that made me happy. Broke my heart.”

“Cops talk to you at all?”

“Yeah, a few times. That neighbor lady got my tag number. They couldn’t pin the case on me but they kept asking over and over if I killed her. I must have shouted no a thousand times. But they couldn’t pin anything and gave up.”

“Did they search your car?”

“No. Not that time.”

“What did you do when they found her bones in the woods?”

“Made me sick all over to think of someone dumping her in the woods like trash. She deserved better.”

“When did the cops come for you?”

“After they found the body. They showed up at my work and arrested me. I was sure they’d figure out like before that I wasn’t their man. But this time they kept hammering me. They kept asking me what I knew about Annie. Did I have a crush on her? Did I ever sleep with her? Did I kill her?” Jeb shook his head, his mouth flattening into a bitter line. “I kept saying no over and over but they didn’t care. And then they told me about the bloody tire iron found in the trunk of my car.”

“What did you think?”

“That it was all one terrible mistake. I knew I had a tire iron in my trunk, but I knew I’d never have hit Annie with it in a million years. Shit, I was in love with her!”

A long silence followed. “You were in love with her.”

He dropped his head in shame. “I know what it sounds like. I know. But I did love her. Or at least I thought so at the time.”

“If you loved her you’d hate the fact she was married to another man and was raising his baby. You’d have felt left out and angry.” Rachel’s voice had sharpened to a razor’s edge.

Jeb’s head raised and his eyes brightened with anger. “That ain’t true. That ain’t true! I just wanted to see her. It was enough to see her and know that she was happy.”

Rachel shut off the tape. “Annie didn’t write those letters to him.”

Colleen folded her arms. “I agree.”

Out of the file, Rachel tugged a picture of Jeb taken thirty years ago. He possessed a rugged handsomeness but there was no missing the rough edges. “She was pretty. New baby. I see him loving her but not the other way around.”

Rachel leaned back letting her gaze travel between the decades-old images of the two. “So if her lover wasn’t Jeb or her husband, who was it?”

“That’s the million-dollar question.”

“Jealousy is a great motivator.”

Rachel reached for her glasses. “The letters bother me.”

“Why?”

“Read them and tell me what you think.”

A smile tweaked the edges of Colleen’s lips. “What am I looking for?”

“Read them with a clear, unbiased eye and let me know what you think.”

The interest glittering in her gaze suggested she’d be late getting to her own work today. “Now you’ve peaked my curiosity.”

Rachel folded her arms over her chest. “Good.”

The woman’s scream shattered the silence, startling the smug smile on the well-lined face. “You did what?”

Baby hated that tone of voice. What should have been a simple announcement had soured into trouble. “I gave the letters to Rachel Wainwright. She is the perfect person to use them. Since that Margaret woman hit her on television everyone knows Rachel. She wants to reopen the case, so she is the perfect person to deliver the letters to the police.”

“Assuming she does.”

“She will. They will help her client. And when the cops announce they have the letters, he will get worried.”

“I don’t want him to worry.” The woman cursed and pounded deeply lined fists. “Why would you betray me?”

Baby sighed, already weary of this discussion. “I haven’t betrayed you. I’m on your side. I always will be.”

“You took my letters.”

“They tell the world that Annie had a lover. They might not ever be able to prove who the lover was but it will make him nervous. It will make him squirm.”

“I don’t want him to suffer.”

“Of course you do. He’s not been a faithful servant. I’ve heard you cry over him too many nights.”

“That doesn’t mean I want him punished.” Silence made the air thick. “I want Jeb Jones to die in prison with the world believing he killed Annie.”

“And likely that will happen. Jeb is running out of time. But in the interim, our faithless friend can suffer and wonder.” Baby had lost patience with him when Dixie Simmons had wagged her pert ass through Nashville as if she were proud of the affair. Was there no depth to how low he’d stoop?

“I hate this.” Wrinkled hands curled into fists. “I want my letters back.”

This conversation was pointless. “You are not mentioned in the letters. I don’t see the problem.”

“No, of course not!”

“Then why are you worried?”

A weary face. “Stop talking so much. I don’t want to hear any more of your chatter. Get the letters back.”

Baby pouted, feeling as if the tribute laid at the feet of the master had been rejected. “If you really feel that way.”

“I do! Get the letters back.”

Baby’s hackles rose. “It won’t be easy getting them back.”

“I don’t care if you have to kill that attorney. Get those letters back, you stupid twit!”

Anger roiled. “Don’t call me stupid.”

“I call it like it is. You think taking care of Dixie makes you in charge, but don’t forget I’ve been at this a lot longer than you.”

Anger oozed in Baby like liquid iron.

“Now get those letters back.”

November 4

Sugar,

You still mad? You know I only have eyes for you. You are my man. Forget the bartender’s attention. I get lots of men hanging around begging for what I’ll never give ’em. I am yours, lock, stock, and barrel. Come by late tonight and I’ll show you how good real love feels.

A.

Chapter Six

Saturday, October 15, 3 PM

With Bill Dawson sti

ll avoiding her calls, Rachel shifted focus to Annie’s former roommates, Joanne Stevens and Beth Drexler. If anyone might have known about a secret lover, the roommates would know.

The two women had attended Vanderbilt University. Beth had been in the biology department while Joanne majored in music. Both women had graduated in the spring after Annie’s death.

Rachel wasn’t able to track Beth but was able to locate Joanne Stevens, who was now married to a doctor and living in Franklin, a small affluent town west of Nashville.

Rachel climbed in her ten-year-old Toyota and drove out I-40 to Franklin. Thirty minutes later she found the three-story brick house located at the end of a tree-lined cul-de-sac. Manicured lawns, flower beds full of blossoms, even a picket fence. The house had all the trappings of the ideal life. She’d dreamed of a house like this when she’d been a kid. She’d wondered what it would be like to have an address for more than six months, to have a yard, a bike, and lasting friends.

Rachel parked in front of the house, climbed out of her car and straightened her skirt. She ran fingers through her hair and wished she’d taken time to touch up her makeup as she glanced up at the brick house.

Feeling a bit intimidated and irritated that she was nervous, she walked to the large wooden front door, her heels clicking on the brick sidewalk.

She rang the bell, tightening her grip on her briefcase. Beyond the door there was silence and then the sound of steady, unhurried footsteps.

The door opened to a tall, slim woman in her early fifties. She wore simple dark pants and a silk blouse, which likely would have set Rachel back three months’ pay. Dark hair swept over straight shoulders, a strand of pearls encircled a slim white neck, and a gold watch winked from her wrist. Understated money.

A quick sweep of the woman’s assessing gaze had Rachel feeling as if she came up short. “Ms. Wainwright?”

“Mrs. Stevens. Thank you for seeing me.” She extended a hand more aware of her callouses as she shook Mrs. Stevens’s smooth manicured hand.

Keen eyes searched her face. “I saw you on the news the other night.”

Tags: Mary Burton Morgans of Nashville Suspense
Source: readsnovelonline.net