floors.
On the walls were horse racing and polo memorabilia and a couple of stuffed fish.
Largemouth bass, she thought.
She breathed deeply and her mouth started to water. It smelled wonderful. Like bacon,
burgers and homemade biscuits.
As Bailey reached for one of the menus propped between the napkin holder and salt
and pepper shakers, the waitress arrived. “Hi there,” she said.
The woman looked to be in her thirties and had a handsome, weatherworn face. Not worn
in a bad way, but one that spoke of fresh air and sunshine. Her long brown hair was
pulled back into a ponytail.
“Hello.”
“Sorry about the wait. The other girl didn’t show up. Second time this week.”
“Ouch.”
“You’re telling me. You wouldn’t be looking for a job, would you?” Before Bailey could
respond, she noticed her ring and answered the question herself. “No, I guess not,
with a sparkler like that. It’s beautiful.”
Bailey glanced at it, then back up at her with a smile. “Thank you.”
“I’d thank him,” she said with a grin. “You know what you want?”
“Haven’t even looked. Are you still serving breakfast?”
“Sorry, sugar. Just lunch after eleven.”
“How about a BLT?”
“Nice compromise. Chips or fries?”
“Chips. Mayo on the side.”
“Perfect. And to drink?”
“Water. With lemon.”
“Anything else?”
“A newspaper?”
“I’ve got the New Orleans T-P , the Baton Rouge Advocate or our own little Village Voice .”
Bailey didn’t know what she was looking for—or even if there was anything—so she asked
for all three. A moment later, the woman set the glass of water and three papers on
the table.
As Bailey starting sifting through them, she realized how isolated from the world
she had been. She and Logan hadn’t watched television at night, she hadn’t turned
the radio on or looked at the newspaper. She hadn’t even been online other than the
occasional Facebook update or Tweet. She had been happily ensconced in her own little
bubble of bliss.
On the front page of the Voice she found what she suspected Billy Ray Williams had wanted her to see.
Second Woman Disappears from Wholesome
And under the picture of a twentysomething young woman with long brown hair and a
cocky smile, one word: “Missing!”
Bailey skimmed the article. Her name was Amanda LaPier. She’d last been seen partying
at a local bar. The next day, her car was found, keys, purse and cell phone in it.
No sign of violence. As if she had been lured out by someone she knew.
Apparently, four years ago another young woman had gone missing. Trista Hook, the
M.O. nearly identical.
Bailey finished the article, then skimmed the rest of the Village Voice . Home sales and racing stats, theft of horse tranquilizers from a vet’s office, a
couple of fights that led to arrests at a local honky-tonk. Nothing else that jumped
out at her.
Bailey returned to the front-page article and frowned. She felt certain this was what
Billy Ray Williams had wanted her to see. But what did it have to do with her or Logan?
The waitress arrived with her sandwich and set the plate in front of her. She indicated
the paper. “Creepy, huh.”
Bailey didn’t comment and she went on. “I tell you what, I never walk to my car alone
at night.”
Village of Wholesome
Population 718
“Some people even believe there was a third woman. So much for the picture-perfect
little village. Can I get you anything else?”
Bailey looked up. “What did you say?”
“Can I get you anything else?”
“No, not that. About a third woman.”
“A sweet little gal named—”
She stopped, gaze dropping from Bailey’s face to her ring finger, then back up. “I
shouldn’t have said that. Sometimes my mouth runs away with me and well, that’s just
pure gossip. My pastor preached on it just this past—”
“Steph! Order up!”
She started to go; Bailey stopped her, remembering what Logan
On the walls were horse racing and polo memorabilia and a couple of stuffed fish.
Largemouth bass, she thought.
She breathed deeply and her mouth started to water. It smelled wonderful. Like bacon,
burgers and homemade biscuits.
As Bailey reached for one of the menus propped between the napkin holder and salt
and pepper shakers, the waitress arrived. “Hi there,” she said.
The woman looked to be in her thirties and had a handsome, weatherworn face. Not worn
in a bad way, but one that spoke of fresh air and sunshine. Her long brown hair was
pulled back into a ponytail.
“Hello.”
“Sorry about the wait. The other girl didn’t show up. Second time this week.”
“Ouch.”
“You’re telling me. You wouldn’t be looking for a job, would you?” Before Bailey could
respond, she noticed her ring and answered the question herself. “No, I guess not,
with a sparkler like that. It’s beautiful.”
Bailey glanced at it, then back up at her with a smile. “Thank you.”
“I’d thank him,” she said with a grin. “You know what you want?”
“Haven’t even looked. Are you still serving breakfast?”
“Sorry, sugar. Just lunch after eleven.”
“How about a BLT?”
“Nice compromise. Chips or fries?”
“Chips. Mayo on the side.”
“Perfect. And to drink?”
“Water. With lemon.”
“Anything else?”
“A newspaper?”
“I’ve got the New Orleans T-P , the Baton Rouge Advocate or our own little Village Voice .”
Bailey didn’t know what she was looking for—or even if there was anything—so she asked
for all three. A moment later, the woman set the glass of water and three papers on
the table.
As Bailey starting sifting through them, she realized how isolated from the world
she had been. She and Logan hadn’t watched television at night, she hadn’t turned
the radio on or looked at the newspaper. She hadn’t even been online other than the
occasional Facebook update or Tweet. She had been happily ensconced in her own little
bubble of bliss.
On the front page of the Voice she found what she suspected Billy Ray Williams had wanted her to see.
Second Woman Disappears from Wholesome
And under the picture of a twentysomething young woman with long brown hair and a
cocky smile, one word: “Missing!”
Bailey skimmed the article. Her name was Amanda LaPier. She’d last been seen partying
at a local bar. The next day, her car was found, keys, purse and cell phone in it.
No sign of violence. As if she had been lured out by someone she knew.
Apparently, four years ago another young woman had gone missing. Trista Hook, the
M.O. nearly identical.
Bailey finished the article, then skimmed the rest of the Village Voice . Home sales and racing stats, theft of horse tranquilizers from a vet’s office, a
couple of fights that led to arrests at a local honky-tonk. Nothing else that jumped
out at her.
Bailey returned to the front-page article and frowned. She felt certain this was what
Billy Ray Williams had wanted her to see. But what did it have to do with her or Logan?
The waitress arrived with her sandwich and set the plate in front of her. She indicated
the paper. “Creepy, huh.”
Bailey didn’t comment and she went on. “I tell you what, I never walk to my car alone
at night.”
Village of Wholesome
Population 718
“Some people even believe there was a third woman. So much for the picture-perfect
little village. Can I get you anything else?”
Bailey looked up. “What did you say?”
“Can I get you anything else?”
“No, not that. About a third woman.”
“A sweet little gal named—”
She stopped, gaze dropping from Bailey’s face to her ring finger, then back up. “I
shouldn’t have said that. Sometimes my mouth runs away with me and well, that’s just
pure gossip. My pastor preached on it just this past—”
“Steph! Order up!”
She started to go; Bailey stopped her, remembering what Logan
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