Page 53 of Trailer Trash

“How long did you work there?”

I shuddered. “Nineteen months.”

“And you worked there until you left town? Stan said you took off after something big happened. You said it was after Branson cheated on you with your best friend. Stella.”

I knew it would be easier to come clean, but I still wasn’t ready to face what happened the day before I left, let alone tell Jed.

“How long had Branson been your boyfriend?”

I released a bitter laugh. “That depends on how you look at it. Did I stop calling him my boyfriend the day I left, or somewhere around the middle when he started doing things to me that no real boyfriend would ever do?”

“The cheating?”

“Yeah. But that was only one small part. The others were worse.”

He let that sink in, and I could see he was full of questions, so I was surprised by the one he chose, the most innocuous of all. “And Stella was one of the women he cheated with?”

I sat back in my seat, my greasy french fries not settling well. “Yeah.”

“When was the last time you saw Stella?”

“The day before I left.”

“The day something big happened.”

“She doesn’t know everything.” My hands began to shake, so I put them under the table. “She only knows parts.”

“Does anyone besides you know everything?” Jed asked.

A tsunami of guilt crashed into me. “Beasley.” Tears filled my eyes as I said his name.

Jed studied me for several seconds. What was he thinking? He knew Beasley had gone to prison. Did he realize it should have been me?

He closed his laptop and started to slide out of his seat. I knew in my gut this was it—this was when he left me. But he surprised me once again by moving to my side of the booth and sliding in next to me. Without a word, he wrapped an arm around my back and pulled me to his side, my head resting on his shoulder. Out of instinct, I wrapped an arm over his stomach and held him close.

We sat like that for a couple of minutes. The waitress came back to check on us, but Jed told her we were good and sent her away.

“How much danger are you in?” Jed finally asked. “People are looking for you. I suspect the woman was Kate, but I doubt that guy was a cop. The question is, who was he?”

“I have no idea.”

“Was there anything to his missing persons line of questioning?”

I hesitated. “Maybe.”

“Was the missing person he was asking about you?”

“No.”

He was quiet for several seconds. “Can it be traced to you?”

I hesitated again. “Maybe.”

I thought he’d press me for more information, but he went down a different path. “Kate was here asking questions before she showed up in Henryetta at the end of December. Which only supports the idea that J.R. found you thirteen years ago and that your mother ran because of it. Is it possible she might have kicked a few sleeping dogs in regard to what happened when you left five years ago?”

“Yes.” There was one common denominator in all of this, and I was going to have to face him again, sooner rather than later. “After we talk to Stella, we need to find Beasley.”

“I know he was in prison. What was he convicted of?”

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