Page 92 of Sing You Home (Nashville Star 1)

Sal licks her lips. “What reason is that?”

“In his cell, there were ... uh, articles. Clippings about you. And a, uh, note to a, uh ...” The agent checks his notes. “Jenny.”

Luke winces.

Across the room, Seth makes a sound of disgust.

“Can I see it?” Sal asks, summoning her strength.

The thin detective with the ever-sympathetic face passes her the note. It’s in a plastic bag. The room falls silent as she reads it. Luke’s body goes as solid as cement.

See you soon, Jenny, sweet Jenny.

Sal squeezes her eyes shut tight at the mention of her old name, of what that monster used to call her.

The words are familiar, and instantly, Sal’s reminded of the diner. How she tried to escape and even then she wasn’t free. How Roy’s doughy hands wrapped around her throat like they never would let go.

Slowly, Sal shakes her head. She keeps her voice steady as she asks, “Why is he doing this? I don’t ... I don’t understand.”

The detectives look at each other, then Sal. The grizzled, beer-bellied detective says, “We believe he’s done this before. We found a record of Roy Williams being married to a Jenny Williams ten years ago. She passed away due to an unknown medical condition. Then, a few years later, another woman went missing. A Lydia Voycheck. People recall seeing her with Roy. Recall her answering to the name of Jenny. But when questioned, she never said anything. And she was never seen again.

“We believe, with your memory loss, that he saw you as the perfect Jenny. That he could take you from your family”—Luke winces, heartbreak and sorrow clouding his eyes—“and you would be none the wiser.”

Clearing his throat, the thin detective says, “We think he’s been doing this for a while. Abducting women and keeping them in a prison until they love him.”

Sal finishes the sentence. “And if they don’t, he kills them.”

A horrified whisper comes from Lacey. “Oh my God.”

Sal squeezes her sister’s hand.

The thin detective nods. “That’s right. We were able to excavate his backyard and we found the graves of several women. We’re working on identifying them as we speak.”

A sharp ringing starts in Sal’s ears, an alarm, a siren. “What happened to them?”

Luke and Seth turn to her at the exact same time, their voices sharp as they both say her name, trying to stop her, trying to call her back from the edge of some grim abyss.

Yet she ignores them. Gathering herself, straightening her spine, she leans forward, bull’s-eyeing the grizzled detective in her sharp gaze. “I want to know.”

She needs to know.

These women were her.

The detective meets her eyes. “They were strangled to death.”

A gasp works its way out of Sal’s throat. All the strength leaves her. She feels faint, shaky as a leaf.

“Enough,” Luke snaps. But not at her. He’s angry at the detectives, the investigation. His fury’s been on a low simmer ever since he got back to the house. Sal had never seen anyone’s face so panicked and crazed before. When he saw her standing on the porch, he rushed for her and held her in his arms like it was the end of the world.

“This is fucking bullshit. He should be locked up.” Luke cradles Sal’s hand in his lap, his other hand covering it protectively. “He should be in a fucking jail cell, and he escapes. I don’t goddamn believe this. How the hell does this happen?”

“I don’t believe it either,” Lacey butts in impatiently. “When are you going to get him? What are you doing to keep my sister safe?”

For once, Lacey and Luke are on the same side. Both pairs of eyes boring holes into the detectives. Seth, listening, stands off to the side, watching out the window for Roy. A fact Sal doesn’t like one bit.

“Mr. Kincaid, Ms. Sutton, I understand your concern—”

Luke shakes his head, his expression growing darker each time the detectives open their mouths. “No, you don’t understand my concern. My concern is this guy, who’s out there, waitin’ on Sal. Tell me what you’re gonna do, and tell me now,” he demands, his voice cold as steel.

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