Page 8 of Estranged Heart
“Keep looking at me. Let me see those beautiful blues.”
An ambulance roars in the background and minutes later someone bangs on the door. Stacey jumps to her feet to answer it and points in my direction. A tall, burly, red-headed man dressed in a uniform too small for him stomps my way with a stretcher.
“It’s probably best if we sedate him for a little bit,” Stacey says. “To give his body a little break from working too hard.”
“Do what you need to but you gotta do it now. We don’t have a whole lot of time.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll make it quick.” She pulls a bag from the closet and removes a syringe. She squirts a little out before sticking me with it. “Don’t worry, my love. You’re only going to sleep for a little while, and when you wake up you’ll be so much stronger.”
“If,” the man corrects her.
“No. When. This is going to go right. It has to.” I don’t miss the darkness in her tone—the bite as venomous as her eyes. This isn’t my Stacey. She sounds unrecognizable, as if someone temporarily took over her body. The softness in her eyes returns when she looks back at me, the change as quick as the flip of a switch. She’s on the ground with me again, humming the song we danced to on our wedding day. Everything flickers around me, along with her voice, the lyrics to “Island in the Sun,” cutting out at my favorite part. Stacey holds me, rocking back and forth. Suddenly I’m reassured I’ll hear that verse again.
Will I feel the same about it when I wake up? Or will it sound like the part of Stacey I didn’t recognize tonight?
Four
Elijah
“I’m sorry, Mr. Pena, but it’s been six weeks of us searching and we haven’t been able to locate your husband’s body.”
Throat clogging up, I clench my fists at my sides. “What do you mean you can’t find him? Where the hell else would he be? Are y’all even really searching?”
The cop, whose name I don’t care to learn, pinches the bridge of his nose while releasing a drawn out sigh. “Of course we have. Maybe you remember everything wrong. Are you sure he was with you that night?”
“Yes. It was his idea. Ask the man who rented us the boat. Hank was his name. He works down on the docks at the lake.”
“That’s the thing. We went to the docks where you say you rented the boat and no one seems to know a Hank. In fact, you’re the only person who saw your husband get on that boat. There are no other witnesses.”
“What are you implying?” My voice echoes with a hint of anger.
Sighing, he flexes his fingers out on the desk. “Explosives were found around the wreckage. Someone intended for that boat to blow up, and your husband going missing at the same time as the accident comes off as a little suspicious.”
“What the fuck are you saying?” I slam my fist on the desk. “Why would I hurt my own husband?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Pena. There are many reasons people murder their spouses. Another person in the picture or insurance money.” His eyes sharpen on me.
“That’s ridiculous. There was no one else, or any money.”
“Actually.” The man holds my stare. “There is. The money at least. Your husband left you quite the sum. I believe over a million dollars. When his grandma passed away two years ago, she left everything to him.”
I grip the chair, my breath caught in my throat. He didn’t tell me. Hedidcome up with the other half of the money for the bookstore fairly quickly. Why keep this from me? I was there at the funeral with him when his grandma passed from a bad stroke, and he didn’t mention anything about her leaving him money. Did he not trust me? Shaking my head, I lean back in my chair. No, that can’t be right. He was a modest person and didn’t like upstaging me. It happened anyway, by accident.
“Mr. Pena?” He blinks hard in my direction.
“I’m sorry, I need a moment to register all this.”
“Which part?” He rests his elbow on the desk, his fingers tightening around his pen and his chair moves side to side.
“All of it,” I say, my words strained.
“So, you didn’t know about the money?”
“No. He never told me.” I raise my voice.
“That’s kinda strange, don’t you think?” He leans in closer. “Why would someone keep something like that from their husband?”
“I don’t know.” My blood boils and I’m struggling to contain my anger. “He had his reasons, I’m sure.”
