The First Wife by Erica Spindler

Why you?”
    “I have no idea. But you do. Or you think you do.”
    “You won’t like it.”
    “I can handle it.”
    “Because young women are starry-eyed. And gullible. And fall so very easily into love.”
    “We’re dumb, is that what you’re saying?”
    “Some are. Not you. Impetuous maybe. A bit desperate.”
    That last hurt, Bailey hoped she kept it from showing.
    “Did he tell you that he kept True a secret from us, as well? Oh, I see by your expression
     that he didn’t.” She smiled. “No worries, sweet Bailey, their courtship was quite
     different. He didn’t fly off to a Caribbean island and come home with a wife.”
    “That’s a relief.”
    Raine smiled at Bailey’s sarcasm. “She was a nail tech. Another under-achiever. Like
     you, no family. Or almost none. A crazy, drug-addled mother. True was a Mississippi
     girl. The Jackson area. They met when Logan was there on business. Dated several months,
     married in Vegas, then voilà! Raine had a sister.”
    “You didn’t like her.”
    Her eyes filled with tears. She blinked against them and whirled away. “Everyone loved
     True. Me included.”
    “Why’d she leave him? What went wrong?”
    She stopped, her back to Bailey. “Do you really want to do this?”
    “This?”
    She looked over her shoulder. “Peek under that rock? See what’s hiding there in the
     dark?”
    “Yes.”
    Raine’s shoulders drooped, as if all the fight had left her. She sank onto the stool
     in front of a large, dark painting. The one she had been working on, Bailey thought.
    For long moments, she simply gazed at it. Then she spoke. “I don’t know. Though it
     nearly beat him.”
    “I won’t hurt him, Raine. I promise you.”
    “But what about you?” She looked over her shoulder at Bailey. “Death follows him.
     That’s what they say, you know. That death follows us, this family.”
    Chill bumps raced up her arms. Bailey steeled herself against them. “I know. I think
     people are being cruel, saying that.”
    “You heard it in town.”
    “Yes.”
    “I’m not surprised.” Raine turned back to the painting. “All dead. Mama and Roane.
     Daddy. True,” she added, voice barely a whisper.
    The blood began to thunder in Bailey’s head. “What did you say?”
    When Raine didn’t respond, Bailey took a step toward her. “You said True’s name. But
     True’s not dead.”
    For a moment, Raine simply gazed at her painting as she sipped her wine. Then, without
     looking at her, she said, “Or so you’ve been told.”
    “Stop it.”
    “Who will be next? You?”
    “Enough!”
    “I’m just being honest. Isn’t that why you came here today?”
    “That’s not what you’re doing and we both know it.”
    A smile touched her lips. “Shaken, I see. Poor little Bailey. You should run now.
     While you still have the chance.”
    This had been a mistake, Bailey acknowledged. Coming here. Thinking anyone both as
     brilliant and unstable as Raine would do anything but toy with her.
    “I thought you might care enough for your brother to help me. But I did learn something
     and I thank you for that.”
    Bailey set her cup on a workbench and crossed to the door. When she reached it, she
     stopped. “Just so you know, you can’t chase me away. I’m here to stay.”
    “Bailey?” She met the other woman’s eyes. “Roane hung himself. On our sixteenth birthday.”

 
    CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
    The night had gobbled up the last of the sun. The cold, damp air chilled Bailey clear
     to her bones. She climbed out of her SUV and hurried to her front door.
    “Roane hung himself. On our sixteenth birthday.”
    She stepped inside. Darkness greeted her. And cold. She shivered and flipped on the
     foyer light. Light washed over her, but not warmth.
    What must that feel like? Every new birthday, being reminded of the twin you’d had.
     And lost. Even the thought of it grabbed tightly ahold of her diaphragm.
    Bailey struggled to breathe past it and crossed to the