Dear Wife - Kimberly Belle Page 0,52

the river, the flashlights all trained to one spot. I watch as a man in full diving gear slips over the side.

“I really wish you’d have let me bring the cameras,” Amanda says, dragging a voice recorder from her bag.

I shake my head. There’s an orchid in the air between us, and I shove it to the opposite end of the table. “I already told you, I can’t say or do anything that might get in the way of the police investigation.”

She freezes, one arm stretched halfway to the coffee table. “So this is off-the-record then?” She straightens, holds up the recorder. “Can I even use this thing?”

I lean back in my chair and pretend to consider it.

Amanda loses patience after only a second or two. “You called me here for a reason, Jeffrey. Stop playing around and tell me what it is.”

“Fine. I called you here because I want you to help me set the record straight. The thing is, I’ve seen this movie, and I know how it ends. With the husband serving twenty to life.”

“Only the guilty ones.” She says it teasingly, playfully, letting it hang with obvious implication.

“Come on, Amanda. We’ve known each other for what—fifteen, twenty years?”

She purses her glossed lips. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Behind her crossed legs, a stealthy thumb presses down on the record button. I pretend that I don’t notice.

“Long enough for you to know what I am and what I’m not capable of. I may be a dick at times, but I am not the kind of guy who makes his estranged wife go missing. I’m not a murderer.”

She tsks at the word estranged. “Shelley McAdams is a friend of mine. Let’s just say she’s not taking it well.”

The doctor’s wife. At least I’m not the only sucker.

“Yeah, well, no offense to Shelley, but she’s one of the reasons I called you here. The police seem to be assuming this was a crime of passion, but I’m not the only one with a motive. How do we know Shelley didn’t... I don’t know, seek out her own revenge?”

“Because Shelley is in Chicago, interviewing divorce attorneys.” Amanda flashes a sorry-but-I’m-on-her-side smile. “Don’t be surprised if she gets full custody of the kids.”

“Okay, so other people, then. You know the statistics on crime in this town. Sabine has money, she’s gorgeous and she’s often alone in some empty house. There are plenty of sickos out there. How do we know it wasn’t one of them?”

“I’m sure the police are looking into it.”

“No, they’re not—that’s the whole point. As far as I can tell, the only person the police are sniffing around is me.”

“Then why don’t you look into a camera and tell the world you’re innocent?” When I don’t respond, she adds, “If you’re nervous, if you need some media coaching, I can help you get some. It’s not that hard.”

“I’m not nervous. I just think what I have to say would mean so much more coming from someone who’s not me.”

“What do you have to say?”

“I have...information about my wife. Information that coming from me would sound...suspicious. Coming from you, however, it would be news.”

Amanda straightens in importance at the last word, just like I knew she would. Amanda longs to be seen as a real journalist. She spends a lot of time online, promoting the newsworthiness of her show on social media, defending it from people who dismiss it as fluff. Calling her a journalist is like handing her a Pulitzer. It validates her.

“How about this?” I swing my ankle over a knee, sinking deeper into the couch. “You put that recorder of yours onto the table, and I’ll talk into it and tell you what I know. When we’re done, if you like what I have to say and want me to say it all over again into a camera, we can talk about that, too.”

By now, Amanda is like a dog with a bone. I’ve given her one with just enough meat that there’s no way she will let it loose. But she’s always been a bit of a drama queen, and she takes her time pretending to decide. Arms crossed, eyes narrowed, glossed lip working between her teeth. I settle in and indulge her theater. After a few seconds, she places the recorder on the table.

Showtime.

I walk her through what I know. That Sabine was there, in the Super1 lot, before she disappeared. That she left without her car and her burner phone, but with her