Page 77 of Lightning in a Mason Jar
She kept a lock on her jaw so it didn’t fall open to hear how close Winnie had come to an even worse fate. But apparently, she’d been through a special kind of hell in the first place to prompt the change of name.
Just like all the women she’d helped.
“I’m sorry you had so much turmoil in your life,” she said gently, earnestly, her heart aching all the while over what kind of painful life Winnie must have endured before breaking away. “But this has no bearing on me.”
“Except, yes, it does,” he said. “Eloise inherited a substantial sum of money in a trust from her parents. I want to make sure the inheritance goes to her—and if not to her, then to her relatives.”
More money raining from the sky like the cash in the cabin? The minute she unraveled one mystery of Aunt Winnie, another came around. The image of Winnie growing up in a wealthy family didn’t fit, except in some ways it did. Her education. Her speech patterns. Dozens of other tiny things that in isolation meant nothing, but taken as a whole made sense. “Well, even if she was who you think, Winnie was a widow and doesn’t have any children.”
Nodding with resignation, Phillip Curtis sighed. “Just think on what I’ve told you, and if you need to reach me, my phone number and address are on the envelope.”
The gentle hum of his departing SUV barely registered over the roaring in her ears, compounded by a screaming firework that had no hope of lighting the morning sky. Now that he had left, the weight of his words settled. Winnie had been in a psychiatric hospital and staged her suicide to escape.
Bailey Rae didn’t think for a moment that Winnie had been anything but sane. Sure, she was eccentric, but she was also one of the most grounded, giving individuals who’d ever lived. Yet the visitor’s story had called something else into question now.
Would a woman who’d faked suicide once ever be tempted to do it again? Bailey Rae wasn’t sure if Winnie’s drowning had been accidental or something far more tragic when faced with the past threat catching her.
Either way, Bailey Rae owed Winnie more than she could ever repay her for saving her life all those years ago, for giving her more than a future, but also a home and love. And she intended to honor Winnie’s wishes.
With the same fervor that had driven her to sell everything and move to Myrtle Beach, Bailey Rae knew what she needed to do now. She closed the envelope and studied the phone number. She pulled out her cell phone full of all those scanned documents and typed out a text to Phillip Curtis III.
This is Bailey Rae Rigby. We just spoke at my aunt’s farm. Here’s Winnie Ballard’s birth certificate. I hope that clears up the confusion. Best of luck on your search for answers.
The whoosh of the sending message echoed her exhale of relief as she jogged back toward the cabin to check that she hadn’t left any boxes behind. She willed away bad weather and dark thoughts. Dew brightened the grass, birds lifting their morning chorus with a woodpecker keeping the beat. The garden had been emptied of the last of Winnie’sharvest, the earth churned by a hoe and ready for whoever purchased the property.
Nostalgia tugged at her as she entered the cabin, her steps echoing in the empty rooms. Her throat tightened, and tears she absolutely did not want to shed burned her eyes.
She ran back toward the front door, shouting, “Skeeter, get on over here right now so I can go.”
Yanking open the door, she plowed through.
And slammed into the hard wall of a masculine chest, his T-shirt dirty and rancid with sweat. Nothing like the crisp and clean Phillip Curtis III. Dread and a horrible sense of foreboding filled her as Bailey Rae looked up into a face she recognized from photographs.
His blond hair darkened with perspiration and his eyes full of rage, Ian Abernathy gripped Bailey Rae’s arm in a bruising vise and growled, “Where’s my wife?”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Your wife?” Bailey Rae struggled not to wince at the painful pressure on her arm. Wind from the incoming storm swept dust and grit through the open door and into her eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Panic welled inside her. Frantically, she weighed her options, his grip tight on her arm. Heaven forbid that he might shove inside with her. So she pushed forward onto the porch, reaching behind her to close the door.
She’d been so careful all these weeks since Gia showed up at the market clutching the cookbook. Bailey Rae had activated her security system religiously. She’d kept Skeeter nearby at home. She’d had people stay over. And she’d reached out to Martin so often she feared today would prove one time too many. Although another part of her feared what might happen if he showed up after all and challenged the man snarling down at her, his fury barely caged.
“Stop moving or I’ll have to use this knife.” Ian pressed a blade tip into her side and yanked her arm up harder with his other hand. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want my family back. Now where are they?”
Fear sank into her, deeper than the knife. Skeeter pawed at the window from inside the cabin, letting out a couple of alert woofs that only served to make Ian’s grip tighten.
“I can’t help you,” she gasped out.
He slammed her against the porch post while he ran his oily gaze over the yard as if searching for any hiding place between the overgrown azaleas and juniper thickets.
“You mean you won’t.” He smelled of sweat and something darker. Insidiously evil. “Do you think I’m stupid? I know you helped my wife run away from me with my kid. You and that cop friend of yours.”
Now didn’t seem the right time to correct his mistake about Martin’s profession. Bottom line, he wore a uniform and a gun, and she desperately hoped he would arrive soon. She tried to ease away from the knife blade at her side. “Mr. Abernathy—”
“So you admit it. You do know who I am, who my wife is,” he hissed, a dark smile tugging at his mouth. “I saw you visit her at the hospital. I’ve been tailing you for a very long time. Now tell me where you hid my family, and I’ll be on my way.”
Thank heaven he hadn’t mentioned Gia’s recent visit to the cabin. Bailey Rae suppressed a shiver. “Mr. Abernathy, I truly do not know where your wife and daughter are now. They have been relocated, and I’m not privy to those details.”
