AND NEVER THE TWAIN SHALL MEET
Ethan was watching for them. He’d woken with a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, almost as if he’d known today they were going to find her. When the doorbell rang, he steeled himself. Sure enough, when he opened the door, there was Officer Graham, dressed in plain clothes now, jeans and a T-shirt with a short linen motorcycle jacket over it, her gun clearly visible on her hip. There was a stranger with her, readily identifiable as a priest from his high, stiff collar.
A wave of fear and nausea went through him. She was gone. She really was gone.
“You found her?”
“May we come in, sir?”
Ethan stepped aside without a word. He saw a news van pulling onto the street. He shut the door before they had a chance to see anything. See him fall apart again. He needed to be careful. Watchful. Cautious.
Sutton.
They went to the kitchen. He sat at the table, the same spot he’d been in six days earlier when he realized she was gone. Wave after wave of emotion coursed through him. Love, fear, anger, all the horrible things they’d said to each other. Every beat of his heart brought a barrage of new, horrible words. He realized he was holding his breath.
I failed you. Oh, Sutton, I failed you.
The cop bit her lip, looked mournful. She clearly wasn’t used to delivering bad news. The priest was uncomfortable, too. Ethan wanted to force their mouths open.
Finally, Officer Graham cleared her throat. “Mr. Montclair, this is Father Jameson. He—”
“I get it. He’s here because you found Sutton. Tell me. I’m ready.”
Officer Graham swallowed. “Sir, we have recovered a body. Unfortunately, there is no way to positively identify the remains without DNA or dental records.”
Dread, deep in his gut. “Why not?”
“The body was burned.”
“Burned?” Images he would never shake paraded into his mind.
“Yes, sir.”
I should have called the police immediately. Insisted they look for her. I should have been out there, beating the bushes. What was I thinking? I could have saved her if I’d called. I knew the note was bogus. I knew something was really wrong.
“Who? Who did this to her?” he whispered. “Oh my God, Sutton.”
And he broke apart, a million memories overwhelming him. He started to cry, heaving, jagged sobs. The idea of her body, her beautiful, lithe body, that gorgeous, smiling face, destroyed, made him want to scream. Not only murdered, but defaced with fire. It was too much.
The priest was saying things, muttering nonsense meant to calm and soothe, but Ethan couldn’t understand a word. All he could hear was her name, over and over and over again, a holy wail building like a wave in his chest until he was screaming it out loud.
“Sutton. Sutton. Sutton!”
A hand on his shoulder. He vaguely heard the cop talking on the phone. Realized the look on her face had changed. The sorrow was gone, and in its place was a steely resolve.
She hung up the phone and faced him. “Sir. Mr. Montclair. I’m so sorry for your loss, but I’m going to need you to come in and have a conversation with us, on the record.”
He saw her hand unconsciously inch toward her belt. Saw the silver glint of her handcuffs.
“Are you arresting me?” Ethan asked.
“We just need to have a conversation. We need to talk about all of this on the record.”
Father Jameson said, “It seems to me the man needs a doctor, not a jail cell.”
“Thank you for your assessment, Father. I’m following orders.” And to Ethan. “I need you to come with me now, sir.”
Ethan didn’t care anymore. He’d known the moment they found her they’d think he killed her. It was as inevitable as the sunrise.
He shrugged. Let them think what they wanted. He knew he wasn’t responsible.
Graham took him by the arm. “There are media parked outside. I don’t know how to get you out of here without them seeing.”
Again, he shrugged. “Whatever.”
The door opened. Shutters began to click. The media rushed the porch, shouting.
Graham immediately slammed the door. “Crap. More than I expected. They’ve surrounded my car, too.”
“I guess you’ll have to interview me here.”
Graham narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m calling in.”
She stepped into the foyer. Talked to her boss for a few minutes, then hung up, and came back to the kitchen. “Your lawyer is on his way here. My boss is, too.”
“Great. That sounds like a party I won’t want to miss.”
The priest put a hand on his arm. “Sarcasm isn’t appropriate right now, Mr. Montclair.”
“Sorry, Father. Not feeling so well at the moment.” And to the cop, “I’m going to ask you again. Am I under arrest?”
“No comment. Did you kill your wife?”
He gave her a sad smile. “Of course not.”
*
It went about how he expected. The sergeant and a few more cops arrived ten minutes post call, with Robinson hot on their heels, pushing reporters out of the way, shouting, “Ethan, don’t say a fucking word,” as he entered the house, which Ethan thought was rather excellent advice, considering. The media continued to mass outside, sensing something major was going down.
They all sat at the kitchen table, and talked at him. Ethan listened with half an ear. Heard words like suspect, murder, lying, alibi, timeline, cooperation. Robinson kept a hand on Ethan’s arm to keep him from speaking and made a lot of impressive-sounding arguments, but finally, at ten after five, they said the words he’d been waiting for all afternoon, all day, all week, really.
“Ethan Montclair, you have the right to remain silent.”
NOW THE WORLD KNOWS
The television was muted, but when the breaking news alert popped on the screen, the volume was turned up. A pretty reporter with a perfectly sharp blond bob, green eyes lit up like Christmas, was waiting in the shot. On cue, she began to speak.
“We have an update on the Sutton Montclair case. In a few moments we’re expecting a presser from the Franklin Police Department, who will be—oh, look, here they are. On time. What a rarity. I’ll turn it over to Chief Meecham, let her take it from here.”
She turned toward a bank of microphones. The chief of police, a buxom blonde with strands of gray in her hair, approached the microphone. There were several people alongside, investigators on the case.
“Thank you for coming. I’m Chief Meecham, Franklin Police. We can confirm a body was found early this morning in a wooded area off Highway 96, near Gentry’s Farm. Preliminary findings indicate we have found the body of Sutton Montclair. We will not be releasing any more details regarding the victim, including cause of death, or any other suppositions until after an autopsy is performed.
“Ethan Montclair, the victim’s husband, has been taken into custody and is being charged with first-degree homicide. At this time there are no other suspects.
“Thanks to the tireless work of the Franklin Police Department, especially Sergeant Moreno and his team—”
The television flicked off.
A smile began.