Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Except she fell in love with me.
A serial murderer.
She loves me.
That’s the only reason I haven’t completely lost my shit.
She fell in love with me while she was still married. He might be looking for her. She might be looking for him. But she’s with me.
If she’s married to a dead man, she’s a widow. If he’s still alive, she can divorce him. We’ll work through this. I refuse to consider any other option.
“I met him on a dating site two years ago.” She lowers the envelope, staring at it through a glaze of tears. “It was a whirlwind romance. He swept into my life, swept me off my feet, and swept out of it within a year.”
“Is he one of the names on your list?”
“I…I need to tell you some things first. Things that will anger you, and I don’t want you to hurt him.” She shudders with a stifled cry, knocking more tears loose. “I loved him.”
The torment in her voice is a thousand knives stabbing my chest.
“I thought he loved me.” She shuffles to the bed and perches on the edge. “Until he left for work one morning and never returned.”
So he’s missing.
She’s had three lovers. Three relationships. One in high school, one in college, and one after. Not once did she fucking imply she was married.
It can’t be Levi Tibbs, because he didn’t disappear until after I met her. Whomever it is, I want to kill him for hurting her.
How morbidly ironic that he may have already died at my hands.
But how can that be? My mind sifts through the names and faces of the dead bodies in the ravine. They all lived alone in different parts of the country. None were from Chicago. None were married. None shared her last name. Although, Jake and I didn’t dig very deep into their personal lives. We had neither the time nor the money to investigate. We just wanted them dead, removed as a threat, and we were prepared for parents, siblings, lovers, anyone who cared about their miserable existences to come looking for them.
Except no one came.
Until six months ago.
Her husband left her, and she did what? Sold her belongings and drove to Sandbank to find him? How did she know to come here? What does she think happened to him?
A blizzard of impatience rages inside me, but I force myself to remain still and composed. “I need his name.”
She closes her eyes and makes a distraught sound in her throat. “I’m…” She clutches the envelope on her lap, creasing the edges. “I’m afraid.”
Afraid of my reaction? Afraid I’ll confirm what she already suspects?
“Tell me, Maybe.” I step toward her.
She flinches and covers her mouth with a hand, holding in a sob.
Fuck, this isn’t good. What the hell is she scared to tell me?
“Let’s start with the day he left.” I lower onto the bed beside her, rest an arm around her back, and kiss her shoulder.
She softens beneath my touch and pulls in a deep breath.
“He said he was going out of town. Just a day trip to Oklahoma to meet with an investor. He never came home.” She stares at the envelope on her lap, unblinking. “He never called. Never answered his phone or messages. He was just… Gone.”
The haunted hush in her voice constricts my throat.
How many phones did I destroy and throw into the ravine with the bodies? Most of them were burner phones, all of them locked with passwords. I didn’t even try to hack into them. I didn’t care.
Her husband is dead. I’d bet my life on it. And I’m going to have to tell her.
“Did you call the cops?” I rub a hand along her spine.
“No. First, I checked our credit card and bank accounts, hoping to find activity that would pinpoint his location.” She stiffens beneath my fingers. “That’s when life as I knew it fell apart.”
She doubles over and presses her hands to her face. I bend with her, hugging her with a lead weight in my stomach.
“I was so naive.” She releases a hicupping cry. “I married him within weeks of meeting him and turned over all the finances to him. I signed documents and transferred accounts so he could access everything. Every dollar I earned and invested since college. He said he knew how to grow my money, our money. He owned a small investment firm.” She straightens, bristling with anger. “He lied.”
The killer inside me sharpens its claws and distorts my voice. “What do you mean?”
She winces at my tone. “He cleaned me out. Took every penny I had. Since he was handling the bills, I turned over all my advances and royalties to him. I didn’t know he stopped making the mortgage payments on our condo. I lost that, too. He left me with nothing. No car. No savings. All I had was the few clothes to my name and the diamond on my finger, which turned out to be a twenty-dollar piece of glass. On top of all that, my mom had just died. When I met with the attorney, I learned that my husband worked with my mom behind my back to manage her finances and…”