“Although they were close,” Williams explained later, referring to how Jeff and Jessica responded to the same questions, “it shouldn’t be difficult to remember where the kids were, what time, and all that.” It had not even been twenty-four hours since the events had taken place. Why were two adults having such a hard time recalling detailed, straightforward facts that—on the surface—seemed so unimportant?

As part of their investigation, all Williams and Vance looked to do at this stage was lock people down to stories. Step back and take a look at any inconsistencies, if there were any, and see where each witness statement led. After all, Albert Bailey had been over at the Myrtlewood Drive home doing some remodeling. From there he was followed while driving around town with a couch taken from the McCord house. What was Albert’s involvement in all this? What role did that couch play? Perhaps they needed to talk to Albert again? From the tone Jessica used, it was not hard to tell she was just about finished talking.

“Would it be okay if we searched your house on Myrtlewood Drive?” Williams asked, looking directly at Jessica.

“Absolutely not!” Jessica snapped.

Whoa.

With that sharp, direct answer, Williams explained why it was important to search the home. Exclusion was key. They needed to rule out people and scenarios so they could find out what had happened. Move on. Every little step would lead to finding what had happened to the father of her children.

“Look, this is what we’ve found.” Williams decided to explain the scene back in Morgan County, Georgia, to Jessica. See what type of reaction she would give them.

“We think that it’s Alan and Terra. But we’re not sure yet.”

“What do you mean?” Jessica asked. She was calmer now. Curious.

“Well,” Williams said, “they cannot be identified.” At that, Jessica lost it. Her body dropped dramatically to the ground and she started bawling. She was hysterical—overly so, it appeared to Williams and Vance, who looked at each other as Jessica went into a crying fit. It was not a stretch to think that Jessica McCord could use a few acting lessons if this was the best performance she had in her.

Williams helped Jessica up off the ground. Then she made it clear that Jessica was the proverbial ex-wife in this unfolding drama. Having been given that status alone made her a suspect. They were checking things off their list. Simple 101 police work. They did it in every investigation. Procedure. 1-2-3. The basics. By searching the house, the Bureau could eliminate Jessica from its list of suspects and continue investigating. She would be helping them out immensely.

“Absolutely not,” Jessica said again in a harsher tone after collecting herself and standing up. “You’re not going in my house to search it.”

Was she protecting her husband? Perhaps she believed that Jeff had been involved on his own and wanted to talk to him, get the story, before helping the cops?

“We just want to eliminate you as a suspect, Mrs. McCord. We need your cooperation. Your consent to search the house.”

“The police are not going into my house.” Jessica was very firm. No damn way any police officer was going to step into her home and poke around.

“Okay,” Williams said.

Then, as the conversation seemed to reach an impasse, out of the blue, Jessica made a suggestion, which was rather odd.

“You should be going to Montevallo to search a house there.”

“Montevallo?”

“I’d be happy to take you there,” Jessica offered. “You know, show you the way.”

So they all drove to Alan and Jessica’s old house in Montevallo.

They found nothing, of course. It was a wasted trip in that sense. Leaving, Williams and Vance talked about the interview with Jessica back in Hoover, and how things had progressed from there.

“Did you see Mom when Jessica said she dropped the kids off at her house at midnight the previous night?” Vance pointed out.

“No, I was fixed on Jessica and her reactions. Why?”

Vance smiled. “Oh . . . well, there’s no such thing happening that they went over there at midnight.”

“Huh?”

“She was totally—you could tell by the look on her face,” Vance said, describing Dian’s demeanor, “rolling her eyes, like feeling, ‘I can’t believe you just said that.’”

Vance—and now Williams—were convinced Dian Bailey had things to hide.

When they had arrived in Montevallo, Williams asked Jessica, “Can you please clarify for us why you would allow us to search a place that Alan had been before, but not your house?”

This was something law enforcement couldn’t understand. It actually made no sense.

“Because Alan has never been in my house. Sorry we don’t see eye to eye on this.”

This comment gave Williams a chill.

What a strange way to view things. What was Jessica so concerned about? Why wouldn’t she jump at the opportunity to help find out what was going on with the murder of her children’s father? What if her husband had killed them without her knowledge? There were so many variables possible. Jessica wasn’t fazed, apparently, by any one of these—the least of which included finding out what had happened.

This, and that little one-act play of anguish she put on in the driveway, was an indication that the Bureau and the HPD were not done with Jessica McCord just yet.

12

In Marietta, members of the Bates family huddled together with friends and neighbors, holding vigil, waiting—and hoping—on the information as it came in piecemeal from the Bureau. As they talked things through, more questions than answers arose. And when they did, all fingers pointed at one person: Jessica McCord. She’d had something to do with Alan’s disappearance, members of the Bates family felt strongly.

“Look,” Kevin said, Robert nodding in agreement, “we knew where Alan and Terra had been, we had even made contact with Alan’s attorney by that point, and we knew that the last place they were supposed to go was to Jessica’s house—and no one had heard from them since.”

Speculation. Doubt. Confusion. Empty spaces. Sure, you filled in the voids best you could, looking for any way to avoid the inevitable. But the end result seemed to be the same, no matter how you added things up. The mind colors in the blank spaces, creating its own finale. Yet, the available established facts of the case tell a story. If you played devil’s advocate, the obvious questions would be: If not Jessica, who else? Was she involved? If so, had Jessica worked alone? Had she, prompting Jeff, sought out any additional help? Truth be told, the Bateses had not spoken to Alan the previous night. Robert’s wife spoke to Terra earlier that afternoon. Terra said the deposition was going well, adding, “We’re picking up the kids at Jessica’s around six o’clock.”

Terra’s father, Tom Klugh, said he tried to call Terra that evening, after six, but he did not get an answer.

That was the dead space. The invisible moment.

And so between 3:30 and 6:00 P.M., family members figured, an answer resided. Inside that missing time. What happened took place during that window. If Jessica and Jeff could account for their whereabouts, how could they be involved?

Questions without answers. For a grieving family aware of the volatile history between Alan and Jessica, it was frustrating, upsetting and debilitating.

Terra’s parents drove into Marietta. The Bates home became ground zero—an epicenter of mourning and uncertainty.

Things moved fast. Philip was able to get his brother in Birmingham—Uncle Randy, the kids called him—to pick up Alan’s dental records. Then everyone turned their attention toward the children: where were they?

Philip called family members and friends. He needed to find the girls. Speak to them. Hear their familiar voices. Know they were okay. If Jessica and Jeff were involved, had the kids seen anything? Were they with Alan and Terra? Did they know what had happened?