She’d turn up at his house in the middle of his night, rambling, her eyes crazed, and he’d rock her in his arms, calming her down. Or they would be kissing, stealing moments together while her husband was at work, and she’d grow distant and far away. Once or twice she’d answered questions that he hadn’t asked, and she seemed confused by where she was.
Elijah had been worried, so he’d urged her to go seek help. She needed to get her medication checked and speak to her psychologist.
And she said she would.
That she had.
That she’d gone.
But her moods had only continued to grow stranger and stranger by the day. Yet he knew that with him, she felt safe. She’d told him so on many occasions. Just like she’d warned him that these times would come. She’d warned him that he wouldn’t want her when they arrived with the force of a tsunami. But that was where she had been wrong. The sicker she had gotten, the more he’d loved her, and the more he wanted to help her. But something was dragging her under, no matter how hard they worked.
“Elijah, do you think Mr. Stanton ever hurt Delores?” Paul pressed.
“Once, maybe twice, but nothing obvious. Everything could always be explained. He hurt her in other ways,” Elijah finally answered.
“How else did he hurt her?”
Elijah tapped the side of his head. “He messed with her head and made her harm herself.”
Paul look unconvinced, a frown pulling on his brows which he wiped away as quickly as it came.
“How so?” Paul asked.
“He was controlling.”
Paul looked frustrated, his voice rising. “I need more than that. If you’re making an accusation then I need evidence, I need—,”
“He was mean to her!” Elijah interrupted, feeling stupid as soon as the words came out.
“Mean?” Paul slammed his hand on the desk between them, his frustration finally exploding. “I need more thanmean, Elijah! A woman is missing and her husband is saying that you have something to do with it! She’s been gone two days, and in that time you’ve called in sick and stayed home and got drunk. These are the actions of a guilty man. So tell me, if he was such a bad husband—such a bad man, prove it to me.”
“I’m thinking.” Elijah put down his cup. “It was things he did and said. The way he controlled everywhere she went, everyone she spoke to, everything she did.”
“But he wasn’t so controlling that she couldn’t have an affair on him for five months and he be completely oblivious to it.” Paul arched an eyebrow as Elijah’s gaze shot to his and his face flushed red. “Look, I know that you know more than you’re saying, but as far as we can see, you are the last person to see her alive.”
“No, Michael was,” Elijah insisted, his cheeks still red from both anger and embarrassment.
“She never arrived home. She left your house, from what I can see, and she never made it home. So somewhere between her leaving you and getting home something happened to her. And then there’s the notes between you two. It all points at you, Elijah.” Paul let out a heavy breath. “Come on, give me something to work with, because right now you’re up shit creek without a paddle.”
Elijah squeezed his eyes closed. “She made it home.”
“Michael said—,”
“I don’t care whathesaid. She made it home,” Elijah yelled, losing his calm persona. Paul stared at him, his expression blank. “I know she did.” He swallowed and opened his eyes.
“How can you be so certain?” Paul asked.
Elijah took a deep breath, knowing his next sentence would put him in a bad light. “Because I followed her.”
The two men stared at one another for a moment, letting the sentence settle. The camera in the corner of the room continued to roll, filming every twitch and breath, every sigh of frustration ready to be looked back on and analysed later.
“Seems a very controlling thing to do,” Paul replied calmly. “I thought Michael was the controlling one.”
Elijah let out a dark laugh. “You don’t understand,” he murmured.
“So help me to! Tell me what happened when she got home,” Paul asked.
“I saw her go inside.”
