Page 16 of Crazy In Love (Secrets of Suburbi 3)

"Ensley?"

I looked back up at Detective Torres. He'd asked what my husband had worn to work that morning. Not that night. "A gray suit. Navy tie. White collared shirt." I specifically remembered pressing the shirt right before he got dressed. I'd straightened his tie for him. I touched my own neck. I'd acted as perfect as usual, even though I already knew what I was going to do to him that night. I'd already done all my research. I'd already bought the little white pill. I'd already set up the basement just so.

"Ensley?"

I looked up at Detective Torres. He was staring at my hand that was still pressed against the base of my throat. My left hand. Where my engagement and wedding rings were vacant once again. I quickly lowered my hand. He'd said a few leads. Sophia wasn't the only one. And I had a feeling the other one was me.

I lifted my hand and laughed. "Mr. Snuggle Muffins had a little pee accident this morning.” Snuggle Muffins? Where the hell did that stupid name come from? “I was ju

st scrubbing the floors before you arrived." Technically I had been cleaning a filthy animal's piss. It wasn't even a lie.

"When I'm back tomorrow, you should probably invite me inside," he said slowly. "Don't make me get a warrant. It'll make you look guilty."

I started shaking. I wasn't sure if it was because I was so mad that my husband had a Canadian side piece or because I was actually worried that Detective Torres was on to me. It had taken me a long time to answer the door. Had he already snooped around? Had he looked in the basement window? Had he seen my husband sitting right in the middle of the basement tied up? He'd be fully lit up because of that stupid Rudolph Christmas lawn decoration. Screw me.

But then Detective Torres winked. "And I really want to see that cute little puppy of yours. See you tomorrow."

I should have been concerned as he drove off. But I couldn't tell if Detective Torres was kidding or not. It kind of seemed like he was kidding. But even if he was? There was still reason for concern. Because I knew my husband wasn't in Canada with his mistress. He was in my house.

Detective Torres was coming for me. I had one day to get my answers. But the information Detective Torres had given me would make my interrogation today so much easier. Now I knew the name of the whore my husband was cheating with. Well, one of the names. Yes, it stung that my husband had been cheating on me for two years. But I was more interested in his local girl. The one he snuck away to see more frequently than Miss Canada.

He should have been nice after my reindeer peace offering. Because of him I now had to buy a mutt that I didn't want. He knew I hated dogs. I made a mental note to stop by the animal shelter later as I made my way back inside. Being forced to be a dog owner was bad. But that combined with the fact that my husband was a double cheater...now I wasn't in such a forgiving mood.

I walked into the garage to look for the toolkit. It was sitting next to the cart I'd used to wheel his limp body into the house. I lifted up a pair of pliers. I wonder what would be the best way to remove my husband's balls?

Chapter 8

Saturday

I walked up to the basement door and then back toward the kitchen island again. Back and forth. I knew that I was pacing. Part of me wanted to crucify my husband. But every time I reached the basement door I remembered that I needed answers first. And he didn’t remember. He didn't remember me or anything about his life.

But then I'd be back in the kitchen again thinking about Sophia Tremblay. What if he remembered her and not me?

After pacing back and forth for what felt like an eternity, I finally opened the basement door. I didn't deserve to be driven mad when he might have all the answers. Maybe he'd just hit the side of his brain that held all his memories of me.

I stormed down the stairs, the pliers still in my hand.

His eyes grew round when he looked from me to the pliers. He tried to say something, but the words were drowned out by the gag.

I tore it from his face, more harshly than I should have. I was surprised that some of his teeth didn't pop out of his mouth with it.

"What are you doing?" he asked as soon as he was no longer gagged.

He hadn't called me crazy, but I could hear the accusation in his voice. He thought I was nuts. Well...soon I'd have his. Maybe that would make me nuts. But he hadn't seen anything yet. No more reindeer surprises. No more pee breaks. I was done playing nice cop.

I waved the pliers in front of his face. "You asked me what I wanted. I want answers. And you'll give them to me or I'll twist off your balls one by one." I reached for the zipper of his pants.

"What the fuck?" his chair scooted slightly to the left.

"Really? What the fuck? That's all you have to say to me?"

"I'll tell you whatever you want!" His chair slid more to the left as he tried unsuccessfully to get away from me. "Just ask me a question."

"Sophia Tremblay? Are you kidding me?" I could feel the tears burning in my eyes, threatening to escape.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

My tears started to spill. I could barely even see him in front of me as the basement grew blurry from my tears. But his smug face was ingrained into my brain. "How could you?!" I screamed.

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