Page 33 of Mann Hunt
Declan began, “So, tell me what you can about your husband’s disappearance.”
“It’s really quite simple. He went out to have drinks with some friends six nights ago—”
“That was Thursday night?” Declan interrupted.
“Yes. Thursday night. He’s been getting together with these friends for the last few years. He went out, and never came back.”
“Was that common—staying out all night?”
She stared at the floor.
“Notun-common,” she said, then took a sip of her drink. “But he’d always text or call if he wasn’t coming home.”
“And you’ve obviously tried to contact him with no success?”
“When I called, I just got his voicemail. None of my texts have been returned.”
Declan continued, “When did you contact the police?”
“After I got a hold of Sheldon, who told me that Ian left the party late Thursday night.”
“And Sheldon is?” Charlie asked.
Declan kept an eye on him, curious how much he would ask, and hoped he would know how far he could go.
“Oh—Sheldon Prescott. He’s a friend of Ian’s who usually hosts these get-togethers. He has a big house in Mountain River Estates.”
“Nice area,” Declan commented.
“He’s the vice-president of a bank.”
“Do you know which one?” Charlie asked.
“One that makes lots of money,” she answered, smiling for the first time.
Declan continued, “I assume your husband’s car was no longer at Mr Prescott’s?”
“That’s right.”
“And there’s been no trace of it, since?”
She nodded, shifted in her chair and took another drink.
Declan paused. “Are you all right to continue?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“You said that you contacted Mr Prescott. It was Saturday morning, was it?”
She nodded again.
“How did he react to the news that Ian hadn’t returned home?” Declan asked.
“He was almost…panicked.”
Charlie let out a soft “Hmm,” and continued taking notes.
“Did you call anyone else before calling the police?” Declan enquired.
