Page 17 of Dread’s Beloved

“When was the last time you spoke to your husband?”

“I’m sorry. What was the question?”

“Can’t you see she’s in shock?” Dolly snaps.

“When was the last time you spoke with your husband?” he repeats the question, and I feel faint.

I swallow the bile burning in my throat back down. “Last night. He was at Tonky’s. We spoke for a few minutes in the parking lot before I left.”

“Why don’t you talk in the office and we’ll handle the bodies,” Dolly urges.

Sherrif Caudill extends an arm toward the door. He follows me into the building, and I take him into the finance office. It’s the nicest and offers the most privacy. I take a seat at the desk, feeling utterly numb. I grab some tissues out of the tissue holder and dab at my eyes, and blow my nose.

This can’t be happening. Zane can’t be dead. He can’t. And Blair…I was so mad at her, but I never wanted this. Tears roll down my cheeks as the Sherrif talks. Everything he says comes out sounding as though he’s underwater.

“I know you were going through a separation, Kitty. I’m sorry to start your day with such terrible news, but seeing you’re still married, you’re his next of kin.”

“Have you notified Blair’s folks?”

“I’ve got a deputy going over now.”

“I don’t understand. I saw him. We talked.”

“Did he say anything, or was he acting out of character?”

“Not really. He mentioned some letters, and I asked him about the hang-up calls I’ve been getting.”

“Do you know what the letters said?”

“He said they were threats like Your time is up, bitch. Or something like that. He thought I was sending them to Blair. But it wasn’t me sending them.”

“And these calls––you don’t know who was dialing you?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I thought maybe it was him. He’d lied and told the judge or the attorneys that we had slept together, and that restarted our separation.”

“Were you mad at him for that?”

“I mean it didn’t make me happy, but I wasn’t mad enough to harm him or Blair. He told me he missed me.”

“No one thinks you did something. I’m just trying to gather all the information about the past twenty-four hours.”

I nod. I know he’s doing his job and I don’t have anything to hide.

“Do you think it could be related to Mellie’s death?”

Sherrif Caudill’s head snaps up from his notepad he’s taking notes in. “Mellie?” His brows knit.

“It’s been twenty years,” I tell him. “My brother thought maybe the calls and letters had something to do with that. Like maybe someone was trying to mess with me.”

“You were a kid when that went down.”

“A kid who put a man in prison for life.”

“Stay put. I’m going to make some calls.”

“Can I–can I see them?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”