He glanced at Robinson, who inclined his head in a brief go ahead nod.
“I’m sorry. I saw Sutton Monday night, before she went to bed. Before we went to bed.”
“Did you go to bed together or separately?”
“Separately, but at the same time.”
Graham looked up from her notebook. Apparently he hadn’t mentioned this the first time around. “You don’t share a bedroom?”
“We’ve been having some issues lately.”
“Right. You mentioned that.” The notebook lowered. The cop was young, thin, flat-chested in her patrol uniform. White-blond hair, practically colorless, cut in a pixie, eyebrows the palest shade of blond he’d ever seen. Looking closer, he wondered if it was natural. It looked natural. Striking, as Sutton would say. Her name tag read H. Graham, the silver rectangle perched over the pocket of her uniform, which lay nearly flat against her ribs. Bigger breasts would have made the pocket rise away from her... Jesus, Ethan. Stop already. Just look at her face. Meet her eyes. They’ll think you have something to hide if you keep looking away, or that you’re a creep if you keep staring at her tits.
He shouldn’t have noticed the officer’s breasts. That was wrong of him. Especially because his wife was missing, and H. Graham looked like a towheaded child, fresh out of the Academy.
Moreno came back into the kitchen, silently watching.
“So nothing in the past few weeks to indicate she could be in any sort of danger? You believe she left of her own accord?” Officer Graham asked, but it was more than a question. An indictment.
Focus. “I thought so at first. Like I said, we had a fight Monday afternoon. Nothing important, the usual, just sniping. I know how it sounds, but it’s not what you think. I haven’t hurt my wife. If I had, I wouldn’t have called you.” He laughed, a hearty ho-ho. Graham took an involuntary step back, and Robinson closed his eyes.
Brilliant, well done. Could you sound any guiltier? Stow the fucking charm already.
Ethan held up his hands. “I’m sorry. This isn’t funny. I’m embarrassed. She’s left before. Things are a bit...rocky right now.”
“And the note? Where did you find it again?”
“It was left on the counter, where I wouldn’t miss it. When I read it, I knew something was wrong. If it’s real, I wanted to respect her wishes, which is why I’ve waited until now to call you. But things have been so strange lately... I got worried. I called her friends and her mother to see if they knew anything, but no one did.”
Officer H. Graham picked up the note and read it aloud. She’d already done this once. Every word felt like an accusation. She set it gently on the marble. “Not exactly benign, this note. It feels very final. You say she’s left before. She was clear in her note that she didn’t want you to look for her. This seems rather straightforward. So why call us? What really has you worried?”
He took a deep breath. He knew exactly how this was going to sound. “She’s never left a note before.”
“Okay.”
He heard the inquiry in her tone. “It’s not just that. Like I said, she left her phone, her keys, her purse, all her clothes. Her laptop is still in her office. She hasn’t used her email—she lives on email. Nothing on her social media accounts. She left the note, and then she disappeared. Yes, she’s left before, but only for a few days, and she goes to stay with friends, or gets a hotel room, and lets me know that’s where she’s going to be. And she always comes back. Always. She’s never disappeared without her things. She’s a writer. She’s working on a book.”
“A book about what?”
“Novels. She writes novels. Very good ones.” He paused. “I do, as well. We’re both in the industry. She had a spot of bother recently, with a reviewer. It was embarrassing for her, for me. The publisher was upset, and canceled her contract. Maybe she ran off to lick her wounds, but without her things...” He trailed off. He was babbling and the more he spoke, the more words that came from his mouth, the guiltier he sounded.
He realized he was genuinely upset for Sutton. Despite how the day had gone, with everyone attacking him, Sutton had been going through hell for a while. He had been concerned about her for many months, concerned about her mental state after what happened to Dashiell, after what happened with the reviewer. Sincerity, Ethan. You need to actually sound concerned.
He did manage to look H. Graham in the eye then. “Listen, we can keep talking and go over it a thousand times, but none of it will change the fact that no one’s heard from her since she left. Her agent, her mother, her friends. She’s very good at keeping people up-to-date. She’s been in touch with no one, and now we’re all worried.”
The older cop was more direct. “No sign of anyone breaking into your house? Neighbors didn’t report anything odd? Strangers hanging around?”
“No. Nothing. Not that I’ve noticed.”
“What was the—” Graham glanced at her notes “—spot of bother with the reviewer?”
“It was just a fuss. An online thing. Sutton received a bad review. She’d had a terrible day, she responded, and the whole thing blew up.”
“Blew up, how?”
He hesitated.
“If it’s online, I’ll be able to find it. Why don’t you just tell me now and save us both some time? Was she in danger?”
“No, she wasn’t in danger, just embarrassed. People can be cruel. She took pride in her work, and when she responded, she was very...blunt. Told the reviewer to shove it. It seems innocuous, ill-mannered, yes, but in the scheme of all that happens online, it wasn’t such a horrible thing to say. But a blogger picked up on it and wouldn’t let it lie. He started hassling her.”
“You mentioned this in your 9-1-1 call. What sort of blogger, and what sort of hassling?”
“Have you ever heard of a website named Stellar Reads?” She shook her head.
“No?” He knew he sounded incredulous. Who couldn’t have heard of Stellar Reads? Apparently Officer H. Graham, who was staring at him with a raised brow.
“I don’t spend a lot of time online, sir.”
“Right. Well, it’s a site where people can rate books, leave reviews. When Sutton popped off, the blogger wrote an essay about it, posted a one-star review. Instead of just staying out of it, Sutton responded, tried to justify the choice—something writers aren’t smart to do. It always backfires. And it did here, too. The blogger called out all of his friends and they attacked the hell out of Sutton. Really nasty stuff, tore her work apart, gave her hundreds of one-star reviews even though they hadn’t read her books. Some of her loyal readers got into it and they were attacked, as well. Put Sutton through the wringer, claims of authors behaving badly, all of that.