His Missing Wife by Jaime Hendricks (nice books to read .TXT) 📕

Officer Cannon shook his head and curled his lip. “All of those big stores are going to put our mom-and-pops out of business. We like our two-block Main Street. We don’t need a Big Lots or a TGI Fridays in Valley Lake.”

Neither of those were contracted with the builder as far as James knew, but it wasn’t the first time he’d heard pushback from the locals who wanted to preserve their Norman Rockwell painting.

Since the local officer wasn’t on board with the Town Center plans—most weren’t—it was about twenty you’re-the-reason-this-town-is-going-to-shit minutes later until the rest of the team showed up. A man and a woman, both with forensics, wore hip length coats emblazoned with the letters “CSI” on the back and dusted for fingerprints. Their long Q-tips swiped the blood drops on the window and the floor. The hair, Tessa’s hair, was placed into clear evidence bags.

A man whom James assumed was Detective Solomon entered after forensics, and he looked right out of a true crime movie from the fifties. His beige trench coat hung to his knees and he wore a fedora tilted to the right. He was short and round, with a bulbous red nose and wire-rimmed glasses that attempted to distract from his lazy left eye that James noticed regardless. He reeked of cigarette smoke.

Detective Solomon approached James and shook his hand. “Mr. Montgomery.”

“Hello, Detective,” James said, shaking firmly. Solomon’s hand was damp.

“It seems we have a bit of a problem?”

James repeated the story he told Officer Cannon, right to the last detail.

Solomon stood, deep in thought, and went into what was likely a prepared speech.

“Anything else missing?” he asked as he looked around, right into their living room where the sixty-inch television still hung on the wall, with speakers and other various electronics surrounding the space, not a rogue wire anywhere.

“No sir. Everything is here, as far as I can tell.”

“Mmm. So, we have no reason to think this is a robbery gone wrong, then?”

“I really don’t think so.”

“Did you have any problems in your marriage?”

It’s always the husband. “No, Detective. We’re newlyweds. We got married on Memorial Day weekend, almost four months ago. Kind of a whirlwind romance. We eloped.”

“I see.” He, too, wrote down details in a pad. “How long were you dating?”

“About a month,” James quickly lied. It was even less than that, and he suddenly felt stupid for rushing into something so huge. “It was fast. I know.” He felt like he needed to defend his rash decisions to the detective.

“Mmm. And where did you meet?”

“In a bar.” James paused, not wanting to give out all the real details of their initial meeting. Their situation back then was precarious at best. He’d lied to her in the beginning, but he didn’t think those details were pertinent to the investigation.

“Aha.” It was a statement. “Do you know if anyone wanted to hurt her?”

Yes, James knew of her past relationships. One in particular. But there were many bad situations from her past, even if she kept the details close to the vest. “She had some pretty terrible luck with men, from what I understand. A couple of abusive boyfriends. An abusive ex-husband too. She said she always jumped from relationship to relationship. She said didn’t like to be alone, and I guess she made some mistakes.”

Solomon looked up from his notepad. His eyes stared from above his glasses, which were now at the tip of his nose. “His name? The ex-husband?”

James shrugged. “I don’t know. She refers to all her exes only as ‘Asshole.’ She’s never given me any of their names. I don’t think she wanted to be reminded of them.” He shook his head slowly. “I’ve never pushed her for details. Maybe a mistake. It all just happened so fast, and I wanted to protect her. To show her that all men weren’t like that.”

Even if he’d heard they were.

“Mmm.” The detective was a man of many words. “Is she originally from New Jersey? Age? Maiden name?”

“She’s thirty-one.” James thought back to one of their earlier conversations. “I don’t know much about her upbringing except that it was bad. Foster homes and stuff. I never met her family. I think she has four siblings, but I don’t know if they all have the same mom or dad. She said once that Tessa meant ‘fifth child’ so I just assumed. I don’t know where she was from.” He paused for a beat, then continued. “Her maiden name is Smyth, with a Y; she hadn’t changed her last name to Montgomery yet. She’s still Tessa Smyth.” James, realizing his stupidity, put his hand on his head. “I don’t even know if Smyth was her ex-husband’s name or her maiden name.”

“Mmm.”

“She had it rough growing up. Clammed up every time I tried to talk to her about it. I don’t know shit, Detective. I’m sorry.”

The detective blew out a puff of air. Scanned the kitchen again. Looked at Candy. “I think there’s a good chance, whoever did this, your wife knew him. Or her.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“The dog.” Solomon nodded his chin toward Candy. “If a stranger breaks in, a dog will lose its mind. Most likely would’ve attacked, or at minimum warned your wife with excessive barking. Does your dog have any wounds on her?”

Glancing in her direction, James said, “I don’t think so, but I didn’t think to check.” He waved her over. “Come here, girl,” he said quietly.

Candy rose and walked toward him, her head low like she’d just destroyed another pillow. James pet her, from her black and gray head, down her brown spotted paws, and to her tail with the white tip, pressing insistently on her bones to see if she yelped from an unseen bruise. There were no visual cuts, nor any blood on her fur.

“No. She’s okay,” James said, and kissed her on the head. “Good girl, it’s okay, girl. We’ll find Mommy,” he whispered in the dog’s ear, and