Page 7 of Pretty Little Wife

“It’s probably nothing. A minor accident.” Cassie’s voice didn’t go up at the end of that sentence. “I can call...”

Cassie’s panicked voice faded until all Lila heard was the rush of blood as it drained from her body.

“There’s an explanation.” She said the line, hoping to mentally grab on and believe it, but no.

“Yes.” Cassie nodded in full helpful-neighbor mode. “Of course.”

“He might have needed a day off from the kids.” Brent let out a fake laugh that sounded more nervous than sincere. “I’m tempted some days.”

All the words and reassurances blended in Lila’s head. Brent alternated between rubbing her arm and patting it. Cassie’s voice finally registered as she talked on that call. Lila heard a few whispered words. “Police” and “missing” popped out.

Missing. Missing. Missing.

The truth body slammed her, leaving her chest heaving as she struggled for breath. The call she’d been waiting for would never come because Aaron’s car wasn’t in the lot or by the field. There wasn’t a car to find. Despite all her careful planning, he was gone.

She had to find Aaron before he found her.

Chapter Four

AT THIS TIME OF YEAR, THE WEATHER IN THE AREA IN ANDaround Ithaca balanced the thin line between fall and early winter. Temperatures dropped. Sweaters and sturdier shoes made an appearance. This part of New York, surrounded by the Finger Lakes and shoved right up against Cayuga Lake, defined “bucolic.” Trees awash in vibrant color. Waterfalls and hiking trails. Lush gardens and lots of places with “gorge” in the name.

A city with a small town buzz that expanded and contracted when the area’s three schools—Cornell University, Ithaca College, and Tompkins Cortland Community College—filled and emptied as the seasons turned. A place where people enjoyed a mix of the outdoors and scholarly discussions. The favorite local pastimes included boating, coffee, and insisting no intelligent person would live in New York City for more than a few years without bolting.

Lila transplanted to a neighborhood outside of Ithaca after meeting Aaron in North Carolina eight years ago and beginning their marriage less than a year later. For Aaron, the movenorth was a welcome return home, or near it. He’d grown up a bit farther to the east, in Central New York.

The area looked and felt the same to Lila, but the good people of New York knew the geographical boundary puzzle like a secret handshake. Central New York was not Upstate New York. Neither had much in common other than a shared state government with downstate.

Lila stood in Aaron’s empty school parking space and stared at the crowd of tress surrounding the one-story redbrick building and the athletic fields in the distance. Her gaze skipped over the vehicles, most some shade of blue or red, to the far end of the lot. She scanned the fields and saw kids out running and playing some sort of sports. Not one sign of Aaron’s SUV or a hint of screams as someone peeked inside the window at his still body.

Trying to end this mess, she’d insisted Brent come in by the back entrance to the school grounds. That he drive around, just in case Aaron was outside for an impromptu practice or getting some air. That was the excuse. It gave her a few minutes of silence as she traced a finger down the inside of the car window and tried to make this morning’s events make sense.

She focused on the exact spot where she’d parked his SUV hours ago. Lights off, drifting over divots and bumpy grass at less than five miles per hour. Well before sunrise. Maneuvering around security cameras.

She’d planned it all, and somehow it still failed.

Leave it to Aaron to piss her off even in death.

Bells rang inside the building. A second later, the chaoticburst of talking and laughter seeped through the school walls and floated out to them. Lila focused on the faded white lines and the number twenty-seven printed in the parking spot. Aaron’s number.

“Lila?”

Brent’s voice broke through the clanging silence in her head. Cassie had volunteered to stay behind to watch in case Aaron wandered home. Brent mentioned the police and questions. Lila heard the words, but they bounced off her, refusing to settle in.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

No. Absolutely not.“Where’s his car?” The question flipped over in her head until it slipped out.

“He’s probably out on a ride somewhere, clearing his head or laughing at us for not trusting he’d be fine. Just enjoying the day, and then he’ll come back and apologize.”

Wrong answer. Brent didn’t know how wrong that was. He couldn’t know, but she did. If Aaron showed up—if that bastard was alive—his anger would destroy everything in its path, especially her.

She took out her cell and hit the app Aaron had set up in case she lost her phone. She’d added his on there, and she tried to locate it now.

Nothing.

“Does an unexplained joyride fit with his personality?” The voice followed the slam of a car door.

Lila’s attention shifted, but then that was clearly the goal. A woman. Average height and weight. Curvy. A round, strikingface with big dark eyes. Short black hair and a brisk walk. Lila didn’t recognize her at all. “Excuse me?”

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