“Friday night around six or six thirty. I don’t know the exact time.” Owen’s tone had gone flat. “We had an argument. She walked out.”
“Did she say where she was going?” Bree asked.
Owen shook his head.
Bree took notes. “When did you expect her to return?”
His shoulders lifted and fell in a jerky motion. His gaze dropped to his hands, still in his lap. “She packed a bigger bag than usual.”
One of Bree’s eyebrows lifted. “This has happened before?”
Owen gave them a short nod. “It’s no secret we fought. She’d left a couple of times before. She usually went to her sister’s place for a few days. But she always came back after she’d cooled off.”
“Did you call her over the weekend?” Bree asked.
Owen didn’t respond right away. Nor did he lift his gaze to meet Bree’s. Was he hiding something, or was he simply uncomfortable with the answer to her question—that he didn’t try to locate or find his wife, and she killed herself?
“No,” he finally said. “I was determined not to beg this time. I did all the apologizing. Never Holly.” His jaw jutted forward, then he stared at the floor.
“What did you do after Holly left?” Matt prompted, hoping to jar Owen out of his own head.
“I walked down to the Grey Fox.” He looked up. “That’s a bar a few blocks from here.”
Matt nodded. “How long did you stay there?”
Owen glanced away again. “I don’t know. I woke up the next day on Billy’s couch—he’s the bartender. I don’t even remember what time that was.” His pale cheeks flushed. “I drank a lot of Jack Daniel’s.” He quieted, contemplative again.
Bree jumped back in. “What did you and Holly fight about?”
“The usual.” His tone went bitter. “Money.” A whole-body sigh heaved through him. “We’re behind on the bills. Holly’s mother is dying, and insurance covers a lot less than you’d think. We’ve been splitting the costs with Shannon—that’s Holly’s sister—but the bills are killing us.”
“So, you don’t want to pay for her mother’s care?” Bree asked.
“Geez, no. That’s not it. I don’t want anything to do with those decisions. She’s not my mom.” Owen lifted his hands palms out, in a back-off gesture. “I can’t even visit her. Her place smells like death. It makes me sick.” His face creased in disgust. He gave his head a small shake, as if physically clearing it of the memories. “I keep telling Holly that her sister needs to pay the biggest portion of her mom’s bills. We’re using credit cards for groceries, and Holly’s paying a thousand dollars a month for nursing services. We don’t have that kind of disposable income. Our debt is climbing every month. I’ve already spoken with a lawyer about declaring bankruptcy. I don’t see any way out from under our bills. On top of that, Holly isn’t the best at keeping to our budget. She likes to shop.” Anger colored his cheeks as he looked around his kitchen. “This place isn’t much, but it’s our home, and we’re probably going to lose it.”
“Did Holly understand your financial situation?” Matt asked.
“Yes. She’s a bookkeeper. She understands money.” He frowned, as if unsure. “She wasn’t being rational. I know she’s been depressed about her mom and shit, but it was like she couldn’t reconcile what she knew to be true with what she wanted to be true. And Shannon just keeps pressuring us for more money.” He covered his mouth with his fist. His shoulders shook as he fought back a sob.
As if by silent agreement, Matt and Bree gave Owen a minute to compose himself. Then Matt switched gears to a less sensitive topic. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m the assistant branch manager of Randolph Savings and Loan,” Owen said in a tired voice. “The branch on Plymouth Street.”
Matt asked, “Did you go to work today?”
“No, I called in sick.” He looked ashamed. “Before you ask, I don’t make a habit of it.”
“And where did Holly work?” Bree asked.
“She’s a bookkeeper for Beckett Construction.” Owen’s eyes drooped. Grief was exhausting. Any adrenaline surge he’d experienced from the night’s stress had clearly drained away.
Now that Owen had calmed, Matt circled back to the family drama. “Did you talk to Holly’s sister over the weekend?”
“Shannon?” Owen’s brows shot up.
“Yes,” Matt said. “You said that’s where your wife previously went when you’d had a fight.”
“I wouldn’t call Shannon unless you put a gun to my head, although I guess