Page 71 of His Loving Wife

There’s dead air on the line, but the call is still connected.

This wasn’t the information I was expecting, and Marsh’s response has spurred a reaction in my body, my hands shaking, and my toes clenched. I have to remind myself to breathe, otherwise I hold in all the air until my head feels fizzy.

There’s no way what Detective Barnes told us could have been misunderstood. It’s impossible. Paul’s release was the basis for this entire vacation. It’s what we’ve dreaded most about returning home. It caused the backslide we’ve experienced as a family in the past month, my more present anxiety and Andrew’s obvious insecurity.

And it wasn’t only one conversation with Detective Barnes. We had multiple discussions. Barnes has communicated with Andrew much more, but I’ve seen him in person at least twice.

If Paul isn’t being released, then why would Barnes insist otherwise? Why has everything felt as though it were crumbling this past month? Why are we even here?

“Kate, are you still there?” Marsh is back on the line.

“Yes.”

“Tell me one more time,” she begins, her voice slow like she’s reciting an oral exam. “Who was it that told you Paul was being released?”

“Detective Barnes,” I answer back. “You told us that he would be taking over our case once you were transferred. He reached out a month or so after you left, then another month after that to tell us Paul was being released.”

“Problem is, I just spoke with Detective Barnes. He told me he’s not spoken to you at all. Or your husband. He said he’s had trouble contacting you.”

My shoulders drop and I raise a hand in frustration. “That’s not right. I’m telling you, he told us about Paul’s release numerous times. Both Andrew and I met him.”

“What’s Detective Barnes look like?” she asks, her words clipped.

“Short. Scrawny. Dark blond hair.”

“I met Barnes before he took over my job, and he doesn’t fit your description in the least. He’s tall, like basketball player tall. He’s bald, certainly not blond. I’m not sure who you talked to, but it wasn’t Barnes.”

The thumping in my chest picks up pace. “I don’t understand. Why would someone pretend to be him?”

“Don’t know that either. But I can tell you this, Paul Gunter is definitely still in jail. He hasn’t been released, and the minute the idea is even brought up, you’ll be the first notified.”

I should be relieved Paul is incarcerated, and I am, but I can’t get over this deception. “Don’t you think it’s odd that someone would try to impersonate a cop?”

“Odd and illegal. I’m going to write down everything you’ve told me and forward it over to Hidden Oaks PD. And I’ll give Barnes your number and make sure he calls you directly. You two should probably go over all of this together.”

“Do you think Paul is behind this? Do you think he’s hired someone to keep an eye on us for him?”

“It’s a long shot,” she says, then adds, “but it’s a possibility. That’s why you need to talk with Barnes. Either someone is trying to fool you or there’s some guy walking around claiming to be him.”

“None of this makes sense—”

“Did you say you’re out of town right now?” she cuts me off, but not to be rude. This is how she operates when she’s trying to collect as much information as possible. I remember from when she was on our case. She’s more disturbed by this situation with the fake Detective Barnes than she wants to let on.

“Yes. We rented a beach house a few hours away.”

“Good news is, Paul is still behind bars, so you don’t have to worry about him when you return home.”

I may no longer have Paul to worry about, but I’m fearing something. What, I don’t know.

Chapter 37

Now

The house is quiet. The cool air in the bedroom prickles at my shoulders as I charge up Andrew’s computer for a second time. I distinctly remember him telling me he’d received emails from Detective Barnes, updates about Paul’s release date. This might be my best chance at figuring out who is impersonating the new detective. If I can find written proof, it might lead me toward something.

I immediately click on his email icon, scrolling through his most recent messages. Almost all of them are from names I don’t recognize. Nothing in his recent inbox looks like it was sent by a Detective Barnes.

In the search bar, I type Barnes, hoping something will pop up. Maybe he’s moved those messages to a separate folder, or they’re stored somewhere else on his computer. The search produces results, but the name “Barnes” is only found in the body of messages, not as a sender or recipient.

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