Sprinting around her body, I take his face in my hold and pull him down to my level. “Theodore, baby. I need you to listen to me, okay? I’m going to get you out of this, but you have to do everything I say. I promise, you’re going to be fine.”
And he will be. I’ll fucking make sure of it.
“I’m glad you’re dead,” I admit to her rotting corpse, not feeling one ounce of guilt. “Now, I just have to make you disappear.”
Theodore Ellis
CHAPTER XXXIII
Television doesn’t warn you how cold interrogation rooms are.The iciness adds to my unease, but I know better. They want me uncomfortable, hoping it’ll make it easier to get the answers they want.
Door opening, I sit up straight, keeping my hands crossed under my arms while the two officers from before reintroduce themselves.
“Hello, Mr. Ellis. I’m Detective Rubio. This is my partner, Detective Dane. We apologize for pulling you away from your work. We just have a few questions and thought it’d be better if we did it here instead.”
All that makes sense, but my head keeps playing one word repeatedly.
Dane?
Like, Scarlett’sdad?No… that can’t be right…Please don’t let it be right.
Taking his hand, I have to hide my grimace. This isn’t exactly how I wanted to meet him. I was hoping for that to come later, preferably after his daughter was out of my class for a few years.
“Okay, Mr. Ellis, we are going to get straight to the point with this,” Detective Rubio says, clearing his throat while Detective Dane sets a recorder in the center of the metal table. “Your mother- and sister-in-law came to our office this morning, and they’re awfully worried about their daughter, your wife, Elizabeth. Apparently, she hasn’t answered any of their calls or texts. She hasn’t been to her office either. Now, to them, it is entirely out of her routine, but you know your wife. Any idea where she is or the reason she’s been unreachable by her family?”
They’re asking innocent questions, but they’re dripping with suspicion. Now, I’ve watched enough TV to know when a wife is presumed missing, the husband is always the first suspect, and for a good reason, but shit. I never thought I’d be on this end of the table.
“I don’t know where she is, detectives,” I respond soberly, casting my eyes down in a solemn expression.Play the part of the worried husband,Scarlett warned the night of,but don’t overact. They’ll flag you instantly.
Her voice in my head flings my eyes up, a reminder that they need to see I harbor no guilt.
“What happened to your face?” Mr. Dane asks, drawing a line with his pen from my neck to eye. The bruises from Beth’s assault were faint to begin with. They’re mostly gone now, more like areas of slight discoloration. It’s the scratches that catch his stare. I couldn’t do much to hide those.
“Oh. Um, these are nothing.”
“No? They’re pretty long, still red. When did it happen?”
“Be as honest as you can, and when you have to lie, do it wisely. Stay as close to the truth as possible. You’re less likely to slip up that way.”
“How do you know this?” I asked, leaning into her touch. She doesn’t let the blood deter her or frighten her off. Scarlett still showers me with her love. “My dad taught me more than he realized.”
“My wife and I had a fight last Friday. I took myself out of the situation and went for a walk around my property. When I came back, she wasn’t there. I don’t know where she went.”
“And she did all this?” he asks, jotting something down in a palm-sized notepad.
“It was just an argument… nothing to worry about.”
Hmphing simultaneously, they exchange a look, communicating without words. Another tactic to cause concern, but I don’t let it daunt me.
“Do you fight often?”
It never ends, but I don’t know if confessing that would do more harm than good. But Scarlett did say to be honest. This question is one that I've tried to avoid for most of our marriage, so admitting it feels like a failure, like I didn’t do enough to save us…
“For the past few years… yeah. More often than not.”
“And does she tend to react physically like this, or could it get worse?”
My thoughts speed through every slap, punch, kick, bite, bottle thrown, and plate smashed. I remember each time her nails sliced through my skin and all the times I’ve shed blood just because she was having a bad day.
