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

it. I’m standing on my own two legs. I can do this. “I’m hungry. Is there food here? Can I make you something?”

After every beating, after every time he patched me up and saved me from himself, I was still expected to cater to him. Today should be no different.

“There’s food in the kitchen.”

I take a step to make sure I can, and I’m able to. I have to survive. “Can we take this out?” I hold my hand up to him, the one with the needle in it. “You were always gentle with me. Can you do it?”

You son of a bitch.

I hate the feeling of the IV being dragged out, and I get queasy but I remember the big picture. Now is not the time for nausea.

I immediately grab the heavy glass lamp from the nightstand and hit him as hard as I can on the head, shattering it.

He grunts and slams into the wall. Unfortunately, I know I haven’t killed him—I’ve only pissed him off. I have to get away from him.

I run.

38

James

Solomon wasn’t amused at James playing detective, investigator, cop, judge, and jury better than he did himself. James sat alone in the cold room in the police station, with the cuffs pinched around his wrists. That jerk wouldn’t even take them off as he waited for Robert at the Valley Lake Police Department building. And he’d been there for almost two hours.

Still. The fact that he wasn’t wearing orange and in county jail already had to mean something, right?

The whole ride back to the station, James begged for his freedom, begged Solomon to listen to him as he tossed out his discoveries about possibly having information on what happened to Tessa, about Maribel, Bella, the recording device, the Moon. Solomon answered him by lighting a cigarette in the patrol car and then smiling for the cameras as he dragged the murderer inside the police station. The cameras that were likely there because Solomon called them himself. The small-town cop got to have his name displayed everywhere for the past week. James was sure he’d be using this leverage to run for mayor, maybe even something bigger. Local portly detective catches bad, bad man.

Jerk-off.

The screech of the door revealed a smiling Robert and a tight-lipped, downtrodden, defeated Solomon entering the room. Prick.

“Well, Mr. Montgomery,” Solomon started after throwing some papers on the table, “some new information has come to light.”

“I bet,” James said under his breath, knowing full well those were the last words Solomon wanted to utter. He wanted his arrest. He wanted his initial accusation to be correct. James glanced at Robert and held his wrists in the air. “Is this legal?” His head whipped to Solomon. “Can you get these fucking cuffs off?”

Solomon smarted at being spoken to in that fashion but strode over and unlocked the handcuffs. James immediately rubbed his wrists, then his face, and looked again at Robert. “What’s going on?”

Robert nodded in Solomon’s direction. “My guy talked to him. I told him I was there during the interview with Maribel. Ralph from the electronics store gave them the information. They worked with the company. They—they have a recording, James. From last Thursday.”

Jae swallowed; his eyes were wide. “And? What was on the recording?”

Robert and Solomon looked at each other, but Solomon took the reins this time. “There’s a lead. An address. We’re getting a tactical unit together. They’re coordinating now, but they should be dispatched in the next fifteen minutes.”

James stood. “I’m coming.”

“No, Mr. Montgomery, you’re not.”

James looked at Robert. Pleading.

“Detective Solomon, I do believe you have to let my client go at this time,” Robert said.

Solomon resigned, and nodded. “We’re going to drop the charges, Mr. Montgomery. You’re free to go.”

James thanked Robert and Robert gave him a signal with his eyes. James read it as hurry up and get up and let’s go now. So he did.

Robert walked swiftly to the back door of the station and James had to speed walk to keep up. “Robert, where is she? Is she okay? Is she alive? Who has her?”

Robert put a finger to his lips. “Let’s just get you out safely back here. The reporters are out front.”

“I don’t care about that. I care about Tessa. What’s going on?”

Robert pushed on the door and pulled right to the curb was Evan’s car. “Get in the front,” Robert said. James did as he was asked, and Robert got into the back seat. “I have a transcript of the recording.”

“Give it to me,” James demanded.

“No. Not yet. I—I don’t want you to see it yet.”

Tears sprang to James’s eyes. It wasn’t good news. What was on the recording that Robert didn’t want him to hear? “Is she dead? Oh God, is she dead?” He looked at Evan, whose face was as crestfallen as James’s felt. “Please, tell me.”

Robert took a deep breath. “I don’t know, James. I know she was shot—”

“Oh my God!” James exclaimed as pictures of her beautiful, smiling face flashed through his head. Unfortunately, those images were followed by Jane Doe on the table. Cut up, tortured, and shot. Of Rosita shot.

“She might be okay. Maribel took Tessa somewhere—they knew each other. I have the address where she might be. This is where they’re sending the tactical unit.” He looked at Evan. “It was 899 Centaur Parkway.”

Evan plugged it into the navigation and turned to James. “We can beat them there. Ready?”

Robert held up a hand. “I don’t want to be disbarred. I can’t go. If anyone asks, you saw the address on the papers Solomon threw on the table. Now go.”

“Robert, I don’t know what to say,” Evan said, and they did their little finger-gun secret handshake again. “We’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

James yanked on Robert’s suit jacket and actually hugged the man from the front seat, then turned to a smiling Evan. “It’s time.”

Robert exited the car, and Evan sped away.

39

Tessa

I open the bedroom door and run.

“You fucking bitch!” Drew screams behind me.

There’s