was losing.
“You’re late,” she said. She thrust an overnight bag at him. “She has swimming lessons at ten.”
“I know,” he said. Then he looked at me and smiled. “Hi, I’m Peter.” I raised an eyebrow at him until his smile faltered. “Okay, well, come on, sunshine. Let’s leave Mommy to her fun.”
Bailey squatted close to the ground, grabbed the girl, held her tight. “See you tomorrow, love,” she said. She stood slowly and watched them move deeper into the fair. “Well, it was good seeing you, Nic. I’ve got to get going.”
“I need to ask you something. About Corinne.”
Her eyes widened. Then she turned and walked toward the exit.
“Bailey.” I caught up with her at the side of the Tilt-A-Whirl, the cars coming dangerously close to the edge of the track before being yanked back.
“No, Nic. I’m done with that. We’re all done with that.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Bailey, just answer the fucking question and I’ll be gone.” I was talking to her like Corinne would’ve talked to her, the words out before I could stop them.
And she was waiting, like she always did. I almost didn’t want to press her, but I had to know. “Annaleise Carter. Do you remember her?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I hear she’s missing.”
“Did she ever try to talk to you? About Corinne? About that night?”
She started to shake her head, then stopped. Her eyes shone.
“What?” I asked.
“It was weird,” she said. “I mean, I barely knew her then. And I don’t live there anymore. But a few months ago I ran into her at the farmers’ market in Glenshire?” Bailey always ended sentences like that, like she was excusing us for something we might not know. I nodded, waiting for her to go on. “Or I guess she ran into me. I didn’t really recognize her. But she said, ‘Bailey? Bailey Stewart?’ like we’d been friends. Really, I think it was the first time she ever spoke to me.”
“What did she want?” I asked. “Did she ask about Corinne?”
“No, not at all,” she said. She scrunched up her face. “She asked me to lunch. Asked if I ever needed a babysitter for Lena. It was like she wanted . . . to be my friend.”
“Did you do it? Go out to lunch? Ask her to babysit?”
“No. I’m too old for friends like that . . . for people from home.” She stared into my eyes. “I grew up, Nic. I’m not the same girl.”
“Do you remember—”
She put up her hand. “You said one question. You said you’d be gone . . .” Her voice trailed off and she lost her confidence, her mouth slightly ajar, her eyes following something just past my shoulder.
I caught sight of the back of a man walking alone. Cigarette in hand, hair falling in a mop over his face. Something so familiar about the way he walked with his shoulders hunched forward. “Is that Jackson?” I asked.
“Hmm?” She was jarred back to the conversation. “Oh, I don’t know. Haven’t seen him in ages.”
“Last I heard, he was working at Kelly’s,” I said.
She shrugged. “I don’t go there anymore.”
“He didn’t do it, Bailey,” I said.
Bailey took a step away so her back was up against the side of a hot dog stand. “I know that,” she said, which surprised me. It was her words that had landed the suspicion on him. Her answers to Hannah Pardot. Her accusations.
“Then why did you make everyone think he did?”
“They told me she was pregnant! Jackson lied about it. And then the cops came in, demanding answers. I was just a kid!” she yelled.
“No, you were eighteen. We were all eighteen. Everything you said became evidence. Everything. You ruined him.”
“Everyone had a motive, Nic. If it wasn’t him, who do you think it would’ve been?”
Bailey was smarter than I gave her credit for being back then. But she was just as capable of deceit as I remembered. “Really? What was your motive, Bailey? God, you’re terrible.” But I thought I knew. The man walking behind us. Jackson Porter. What does the monster make you do? Does it make you dream of them? Of boys who aren’t yours?
“It wasn’t me. She was the monster. Can’t you see that now? We’re all better off without her,” Bailey said.
“Don’t say that.”
Truth is, I believed Bailey was lucky. For Bailey Stewart, life with Corinne could’ve gone two very different ways. Bailey was gorgeous—naturally alluring. But Cooley Ridge was Corinne’s. The attention was always hers.