The Breezy Point might as well have been. There were only three other vehicles in the parking lot—and lights peeking out from the doors of just two of the units.
When I stepped out of the car, the air seemed even crisper and smelled like fall—piney and mossy with a hint of wood smoke. I couldn’t wait to crawl under the covers.
Key in hand, I hurried toward the door to my unit. From behind me I heard the scrape of a shoe. My heart jumped.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” a male voice said.
I spun around, my heart in my throat. Cody Blaine was standing five feet behind me, and even in the dimness of the parking lot, it was hard to miss the fury in his face.
Chapter 3
INSTINCTIVELYITOOK A STEP BACKWARD.HE HAD ONLYabout four inches on me, but right now I felt every one of them.
“Cody,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “What’s the problem?” Had I somehow misunderstood our meeting time or place?
“I want to know why you wrote those things about me.”
“What things?” Wait, he must have already seen my post.
“That bullshit on the website. Trying to ramp everything up so it’s really juicy. You said I blew you off today. You made it sound like I’ve got something to hide.”
“I didn’t say you blew me off. I said you never returned to meet with me, but you probably had plenty to take care of.”
“You also said that the cops always wonder about the husband.”
“They do; that’s just a fact of life.”
My hands were lightly fisted, I realized, and I forcedmy fingers to relax. If I was going to defuse the situation, I needed to appear calm myself.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I added. “And though I’m here as a reporter, I’m moved by your situation. I want our coverage to play a role in helping find your wife.”
He took a step closer, muscling into my space, and glared at me.
“You have no freaking clue what my kids and I are going through,” he said.
I didn’t like the hostility I felt radiating off him. The guy, after all, might be a killer. I let my eyes dart quickly to the right, to the office. It was brightly lit, but from this angle I couldn’t tell if anyone was at the front desk.
“You’re right. But I imagine it must be beyond horrible.”
“Then why aren’t you digging up stuff? Looking for leads? Isn’t that what reporters aresupposedto do? At least the ones who are any good?”
He shifted back slightly on his heels, easing out of my space bubble a little.
“Iamlooking for leads, that’s why I wanted to meet with you. But you can talk to me now, and I promise to help in any way I can. Had you noticed anything different or secretive about Shannon’s behavior lately?”
“So now you’re suggesting she was having an affair.”
“No, I’m wondering if she was under any kind of stress.”
“If she was depressed or especially stressed out, she never showed it. And she’d never willingly leave our kids.”
“Didn’t it seem odd not to hear from her while you were at work on Monday?”
“I tried her around midday but it wasn’t a big deal when she didn’t call back. I knew she had a lot of errands to run that day.”
“What about the possibility of someone keeping tabs on her? Did she ever mention noticing anyone weird when she was running? Or anyone in her life saying or doing something that seemed hostile?”
“If she had, don’t you think I would have shared that with the cops? What I’d love to see is reporters making themselves useful, turning up fresh information.”
