whipped off his Ray-Bans, struggling to bank his temper as he met the agent’s gaze head-on. He’d always had dangerous impulses, but lately he’d barely been able to restrain himself from acting on them. He half attributed his springboard reactions to the stress of his wife’s disappearance.
But the emptiness had been in his soul a long damn time. And lately, he’d developed severe headaches and a sensitivity to light. The doctor said it was stress, that he needed to lighten up. Release his emotions in a healthy way.
Hell, the man didn’t know what he was talking about.
Besides, without the shades, he felt exposed, raw. As if someone might see inside his soul and glimpse the darkness. The bitter boy he’d turned into after he’d witnessed his parents’ murder at age ten. The fact that he’d been a suspect in their deaths.
Or the soft spot he’d had for Caitlin. His hand automatically strummed over his pocket where he still carried the charm bracelet he’d bought for her the night he’d proposed—two tiny silver hearts melded together, just as he’d thought theirs had.
What a damn fool he was for believing such nonsense.
“Do you have new evidence? A lead?” Miles asked. God knows he wanted some news. Some closure.
“I’m the interrogator here.” Agent Brown’s chair squeaked as he shifted his weight. “You’re the suspect. You answer the questions.”
Miles gritted his teeth. “Dammit, tell me. Have you found her body?”
Brown’s eyebrows rose. “Then she is dead?”
“You’re twisting my words.” Miles bit back a curse. He had no idea if Caitlin were dead or alive. After that last fight, she’d stormed out of their three-week marriage. A few short days after they’d been married, he’d realized his wife wasn’t the woman she presented before the I do’s. Or the passionate, love-struck woman she’d led him to believe.
She’d been mysterious. Had been hiding something. And when he’d questioned her about her past, her family, she’d clammed up.
For all he knew, she’d faked her death and would let him fry for murder. But where had she gone?
Brown didn’t want to hear his suppositions. He’d only think Monahue was making excuses. “You’re interrogating me again,” he finally replied, “so that makes me wonder if you’ve found something new.”
Brown twisted his mouth into a frown. “Nothing I can reveal.”
Miles stood abruptly, his chair hitting the floor. “Then get the hell out. I’m sick of your runaround. If you find her, call me. Or if she contacts me, I’ll let you know.”
Brown pushed up from the desk, his boots clacking on the wooden surface. He paused in the doorway, pinned him with a warning look. “Don’t go anywhere without informing me.”
Miles glared at the man’s back as he stalked out, then he slammed the desk so hard his stapler flew onto the floor with a clatter. Frustration clawed at him. Even though he and Caitlin had only been married three weeks, their wedding triggered by a drunken night of raw, passionate sex, he’d exhausted every imaginable lead hunting for her.
Of course, the police suspected him. He was the husband. And the last time he’d seen Caitlin, they had fought publicly. She’d shouted that she didn’t want to be married to him. That it had been a mistake.
He’d agreed. He knew nothing about love. Family. Commitment. But his pride had smarted and he’d spouted off in anger.
Where was she?
Off in Tahiti with a lover? Sipping margaritas and laughing at the mess she’d left behind? Or had she met with foul play?
Guilt assaulted him as the gruesome possibilities flitted into his mind. Caitlin, dead at the hands of a madman. Or maybe she’d been kidnapped and was being tortured and was still alive.
If so, every day that passed meant there was less chance of finding her.
He grabbed his keys and headed to his car. He had to get out of the office. Drive someplace and be alone.
Freezing rain and sleet pelted him as he jogged to his Pathfinder, cold air blasting him as he climbed inside and started the engine. He blew on his hands to warm them, hit the gas pedal and soared from the parking lot, gravel churning beneath his tires, sludge and mud spewing. Storm clouds darkened the sky, the sleet creating a steady staccato rhythm as it pinged off the hood and windshield. He flipped on the defroster, grateful for the noise that drowned out his turbulent thoughts as he drove through the small town of Raven’s Peak. He tried to focus on the road and his surroundings as he made his nightly rounds, but the nightmares hovered in his mind, tormenting him. After Caitlin had left, the evening blurred. He’d had a headache, then added liquor on top of it. He must have blacked out. Then the nightmares had started. Nightmares that went back to his childhood.
The rugged edges of the mountain peaks and towering hardwoods rose in front of him like ice statues standing guard to the secrets within their massive walls. The canyon below had once been green and lush, sprinkled with wildflowers and honeysuckle, a haven for the sun as it fought over the jagged gorges. Now, it looked like a brown crater resting at the underbelly of the mountains, like a dark cavern below ground where shadows walked at night, a home for the demons who rested in their evil lairs.
He couldn’t shake the interrogation with Brown from his mind, or the sense that something sinister had happened to his wife. Hell, he did have his dark side, but he hadn’t killed Caitlin.
And not a second had gone by that he wasn’t plagued with worry about her. The first few days, he’d beaten the streets searching for her, for any clue as to where she might have been, had used all his resources and questioned everyone in Raven’s Peak, where he’d first met her at a local honky-tonk, the Steel Toe. But he’d found nothing but questions.
His hands tightened around the steering wheel. The defroster worked overtime to clear the fog from the storm outside, the gears grinding as the tires clutched at black ice. Day by day, he’d assured himself that Caitlin had probably just run off and left him. She was tough. Formidable. She’d obviously decided she’d married him on a whim, that commitment wasn’t her style, and ditched him before the ink on their marriage certificate could set permanently.
Still, he’d blamed himself. It was his fault she had left. He hadn’t known how to be a husband. She’d needed something he didn’t know how to give.
Love.
He’d almost convinced himself he believed that she was coming back, that at least she was alive. Almost…
But the fact that neither he nor the feds had actually turned up any leads on her whereabouts kept his doubts and fears alive.
Streetlights illuminated the town square. Most of the storeowners had long gone for the evening and the citizens were tucked safely in their homes within the city limits, the wooded hills and valleys of the mountains. A safe, small Southern town.
Until he’d brought Caitlin here and she’d disappeared. Now, he wondered if there might be a murderer among them.
Squinting through the sleet, Monahue searched the shadows of the town park for vagrants or unwanteds, then drove past the high school to check
