Page 16 of Husband Missing

“Noah!” Her voice shook, telegraphing her weakness.

She kept going, again using her shirttail to open doors. The main bathroom had also been torn apart, towels and toiletries everywhere. In their bedroom was more of the same. Their en suite bathroom was a shambles. Their nightstands overturned. The mattress askew. None of the upstairs closets had doors. Another brutal remnant from her childhood that Ray, and later Noah, had conceded to her. Now, it made her job faster. Nothing was left in their bedroom closet because everything was on the floor.

Trout’s barks grew louder and more frenzied as she moved to the first guest room. She’d once used it for an office-slash-home gym but later, they’d converted it to a standard bedroom since they had houseguests so frequently. No one was inside. Whatlittle the nightstands, dresser, and closet held had been flung everywhere.

“Noah!”

The contents of the hall closet—more towels, bedding, backup toiletries, new shower liners still in their shiny packaging, and a small handheld vacuum—were heaped on the floor, blocking her way.

“Noah!”

Still no answer. Where was he? Why hadn’t he come out or called to her?

He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dead.

Trout’s paws scratching frantically against the final door kept her grounded. His high-pitched barks, now turning to desperate, keening cries were like a thousand tiny knives stabbing her heart.

The nursery. He was shut in what was going to be the nursery.

Leading with her pistol, she eased the door open, nudging against Trout’s manic paws as they scratched and clawed at her in an effort to reach her, to lure her down to him for comfort and reassurance. He kept jumping and pawing her, clearly distraught, but she couldn’t give him her full attention until she’d checked every corner of the room and the open, empty closet.

No Noah.

The baby gate lay broken in two near her feet. Bunched up in a haphazard pile were the drop cloths in the middle of the room. Nearly empty cans of primer had been opened and tipped on their sides, leaving a viscous white trail along the exposed carpet. The ladder hadn’t been disturbed.

Nor had one corner of the room, now markedly different from the way Josie had left it. A standing lamp, now on its side, illuminated a sweet tableau that was perversely at odds with thecondition of the rest of their home. A square of soft gray paint had been brushed along the wall with a puffy white cloud crudely painted over it. Two small colorful hot-air balloon mobiles swayed in front of the swath of cloudy sky, dangling from the ceiling on what looked like fishing line.

The idea they’d discussed only hours ago for welcoming the child they hoped to adopt was alive before her, but Noah was gone. Trout’s claws slashed the backs of her legs, stinging even through her thick khaki pants. His mewling was even more anguished now that he sensed her horror flaming to life like a five-alarm fire.

A strangled sound worked its way painfully from Josie’s chest, past her lips.

Where was her husband?

ELEVEN

ONE WEEK AGO

Bug gripped the hem of her skintight skirt and pulled, trying to cover up more of her thighs. It was no use. The stupid thing snapped right back up, leaving little to the imagination. Even though the point was to show off her legs and her ass, she hated wearing anything this short. With a sigh, she stared at the rickety wooden steps that led up to the second-floor apartment. If anyone walked past while she was climbing them, they’d know the exact color of her lace underwear. Not ideal.

But she’d put too much time into this plan to back off now. In fact, she needed to speed things up. She was exhausted and her anxiety was so bad that her hair was falling out. Absently, she patted it as she climbed the steps. As always, the fifth and the eleventh one creaked and bowed beneath her weight. This place was one paint chip away from collapsing. Bug had lived in some real shitholes growing up, but nothing like this. Every time she spent the night, it took three showers at her own place to feel properly cleansed.

Soon, she’d never have to come here again.

Once she reached the top, she glanced down. Immediately, her stomach clenched. Holden’s disgusting old-man neighborgrinned at her from below, one hand shading his eyes. When he licked his lips, Bug almost threw up in her mouth.

Don’t pull at the skirt. Don’t pull at the skirt.If she tried to cover up, he’d know that he made her uncomfortable. He seemed to enjoy that even more than he enjoyed leering at her. Bug drew her shoulders back, sneered at him, and flipped him off. His hand dropped, giving her a better view of his lined face, now red with anger.

“Don’t you have a sex offender registration to complete?” she called, just to twist the knife. She hated old pervs.

He called her a bunch of sexist names which were so predictable, she had to roll her eyes. It was always the same with lecherous pricks. Of all ages, really.

Finished with him, she pounded against the door. “Holden, let me in!”

She would have just walked inside but he had this rule about always knocking “in case I’m in the shower.” He really thought she was so stupid. They’d already seen one another naked so who gave a crap if she saw him coming out of the shower? Plus, she already knew about the redhead and the single mom he was messing around with. Holden thought he was smart, but he was about as dumb as a pile of bricks. As much as it annoyed Bug, it worked to her advantage. Him thinking she was a naive little airhead also worked to her advantage.

“Holden!”

The door finally swung open. Holden leaned against the frame like he was oozing sex appeal or something—shirtless with his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. “Hey, college girl,” he said in the voice he used when he was trying to be sexy.

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