But Rachel hadn’t just been debt-free, she’d beenrich. In another tax bracket, as his sister had said. A tax bracket that Jake was now a part of, and that transition had come with a lot of new problems. Ones that were getting bigger.
The display on her phone changed, showing that there were four missed calls, his being the latest.
Something was wrong, and this phone was an even bigger indicator than the blood or the mess. His wife didn’t know how to function without it, would never go anywhere without it in hand.
Concern, a foreign emotion where Rachel was involved, grew. Blood in the bathroom. A mess left behind. Rachel missing. Her phone at the scene.
Rachel missing.
Rachel missing.
Rachel missing.
The thought grew bolder and louder, until he placed his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to block it out.
He couldn’t call the police, yet that was what a concerned husband would do, right? Call the police. Stay out of the crime scene. Have an alibi, one better than sitting at the bar for the last three hours, nursing Coronas in the middle of the day.
Ray had promised him that he was a professional. The guy had seemed so organized. Had been so strict in his rules about where and when and how. It doesn’t make sense that he would jump the gun and kill Rachel here, not when it had already been planned for Palm Springs.
But it also made sense that, with everything else Jake managed to screw up, he’d flub this too.
Chapter 3
Jules
Jules Ann Myers was shaving her husband’s back when the call came through her smartwatch. Glancing at the display, she switched off the clippers. “I got to take this.”
Sam nodded, his attention on the mirror as he carefully applied a whitening paste to the front of his teeth.
Moving to the French doors off the bathroom’s sitting area, she stepped onto the balcony and shut the doors behind her. Answering the call on her cell, she held it against her ear. “Hello?”
Jake shouldn’t be calling her. Not like this, in the middle of the day when he knew Sam was around.
“Have you talked to Rachel today?” Jake’s voice sounded odd. Tight and uneven. Stressed. What did he have to be stressed about? A mansion on five acres and the life of a playboy.
She thought of his back, all muscular and tan. Not a hair on that surface to shave, not that Jake would be vain enough to shave it if there were.
“No.” The mention of Rachel caused her blood pressure to rise. “Why?”
“She’s missing.”
“Missing?” Jules choked out a laugh. “That’s a little melodramatic. What, she’s not answering your calls? Turned her location off?” Maybe Rachel had found out. Maybe this was her version of a fight, the precursor to the big announcement that she was leaving Jake and wanted a divorce.
“No.” He cleared his throat. “I came home and there’s blood. Signs of a struggle. The mirror’s broken and her phone is here. It looks like she hasn’t had it for a couple of hours.”
The laughter died in Jules’s throat, and she glanced over her shoulder, making sure she was alone on the balcony. The French doors were still closed, and the manicured gardens before her were quiet and still. No landscapers on Sunday, no housekeeper vans in the circular drive. Only her and Sam. “Have you called the cops?”
“No, not yet.”
“Don’t. I’ll come over right now. Don’t touch anything.” She paused. “Did she find out ... uh ...” The half-finished question hung in the air, and she hoped he wouldn’t make her verbalize it.
“No. She doesn’t know anything.”
He sounded certain enough that she didn’t press the question. After all, Jake knew Rachel almost as well as Jules did. If his wife knew something ... had suspected something, he would have been able to tell.
She returned to Sam, who was using the nose trimmer, his face a few inches from the mirror. “I have to go to Rachel’s. I’ll be back in time to cook dinner.”
Her husband nodded, his attention on his reflection, his mind likely on the latest financial projections of his investment firm’s portfolio.
