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

ringleader and attacked anyone else who didn’t share her already made-up mind. The hits just kept coming, and James didn’t know what to do.

Then it hit him. He needed to speak to Gwen.

Outside, the street was buzzing more than it had been earlier in the day, when he went for his run. Now there were couples weeding, kids riding bikes, people walking dogs. He put on his New York Rangers hat to hide, thinking that would suddenly turn him into a hockey player, maybe power left winger Artemi Panarin, and no one would know that he was James Montgomery. The friendly Lovett Road killer.

James went out the back door. He could cut diagonally through the woods and end up near Nick and Gwen’s shed, then go around the side of it to the front door. He didn’t want to walk in plain sight on his street under prying eyes right up their driveway like he was stopping in for coffee, even though going around this way made him look like a cat burglar. As he turned the corner and approached their stucco house with the yellow door, he had to calm his shaking hands. He took a deep breath and rang the bell. Footsteps approached and Nick’s face appeared at the window. The locks clanked and he opened the door a sliver.

“Hey James,” Nick said, hiding behind the door. His shifting eyes said go away. “What’s up?”

“I was hoping to talk to Gwen.”

Nick looked behind him, where James’s superman powers let him see through the big door to Gwen’s disapproving face. The urgent whispers began.

“Gwen, it’s important,” James said, louder, making sure she heard. “You know I wouldn’t come here otherwise.”

More whispers. Then the door swung open and Gwen appeared.

“Make it fast, James. Caleb is still sick.”

She stood in the frame, Nick now behind her. She wore black yoga pants and what probably used to be a white V-neck T-shirt but it was now gray in the armpits. Her blond hair was pulled into a bun, but the stray hairs around her face had escaped her hair band and made her look wild-eyed and fierce. The mama bear, shielding her family from the murderer.

James’s eyes pleaded. “Can I please come in, Gwen? I’m worried sick. I need to talk to you about Tessa.”

Gwen’s face scrunched, but she took two steps backward. “Fine.”

James stepped into the front hallway, and Nick shut the door behind them. Gwen nodded her head toward the kitchen and walked in. James followed. Caleb sat in a highchair, and James thought again that he looked too big to be treated like a baby. There was a pile of colorful, crunchy cereal spread out on the tray in front of him and a bottle full of milk to his left.

“Hi Caleb. I hope you’re feeling better,” James said.

“He’s fine,” Gwen said curtly, then unhooked the tray and the belt from around his waist and picked him up. She stood there, holding him, staring daggers at James.

This was not to be a family discussion, and he didn’t want to talk in front of their son. “Can we have some privacy?” His eyes drifted to Caleb.

Gwen huffed, then handed Caleb over to Nick. “Can you set him up with his blocks in the family room?”

James had seen Caleb walk before, so he knew that he could, but Gwen seemed to think that the kid was made of Swarovski crystal and barely let his feet touch the floor. Do four-year-olds still play with blocks? And drink from bottles? James really didn’t know, but again, Gwen always seemed intent on smothering the poor kid and keeping him a baby forever.

Nick took Caleb from her arms. “Come on, buddy. Let’s see if we can match the circle to the hole this time.”

Caleb’s round face smiled at James, and he waved as his father carried him to the next room.

“Like I said, make it quick.” Gwen all but tapped her foot.

“Can we sit?” James asked.

Another huff, but she sat at the table and motioned for James to do the same.

“Look, Gwen. I know what Tessa told you. I know that you told the cops about the gun.”

“Good.” Her eyebrows rose, showing the lines of overbearing motherhood on her forehead.

“It’s not what you think.” James paused. “Do you know anything about her past?”

“I know that she’s had enough violence in her life, and I don’t know why you seem intent on continuing the pattern.”

“Jesus, Gwen. I’d never hurt Tessa. I got that gun to protect her.”

“From some bum in a side alley? She doesn’t need her husband going gangster on her.”

“Well, it’s gone. I got rid of it. Just like she asked me to. I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable. Unsafe.” He knew his admission was a direct conflict to what he had told the cops earlier. “I wish you hadn’t said anything to the cops. This is a private matter.”

She shrugged. “She came to me, James. Upset. And to be honest, I don’t know how to feel right now. I’m not convinced you didn’t hurt her.”

“I’m trying to find her. Please, Gwen. Just tell me if you know something about her past.”

Gwen’s face gave it all away. She knew what Tessa wanted her to know, no more, no less. “She had a pattern with men. Bad men.”

“I know.”

One eyebrow rose. Accusatory. “How do I know you weren’t part of the problem? Of the cycle?”

“Because I wasn’t.” His voice deepened, but he quickly reverted. “Did she ever tell you about the night we met?”

Gwen shook her head. “Just that she met you through your old roommate.”

“Let me fill you in on a few details.”

James took a deep breath and began the story from the beginning. Gwen gasped when James told her about finding Tessa being beaten and almost raped by Damon. He even told her about seeing Damon the night Tessa went missing. He left out the part about threatening him with the gun, but said he’d gotten his point across with his fist.