The Wife Before

“Do you not understand what I’m getting at?” he snapped.

I shook my head.

“Melanie and Miley were twins. They shared the same damn DNA.”

I blinked, stunned again. How the hell didn’t I know this? Roland never mentioned that they were twins. Why didn’t he? The journal never mentioned they were either.

“But fingerprints…the cops would’ve pieced that together,” I said.

“Not if the body was severely bloated when they found it,” Ben said. I glanced at him at the same time Shelia did. He shrugged. “Just saying. I’ve watched a lot of crime shows. If her body was found in the water, it was probably hard for them to get a proper fingerprint analysis. Maybe all they had to go off of was the DNA.”

“True. And I think Miley is the one who drove off that damn cliff, not Melanie. Miley could be suicidal sometimes. I think Melanie used her sister as a scapegoat and bailed on her own life. When I saw they were suddenly accusin’ her husband and rulin’ it a homicide, I figured she had somethin’ to do with it—that she’d run off to start over somewhere and caused a shitstorm just to ruin his life, same way she did mine. I don’t know how, but she’s good like that. Good at creatin’ lies.” He rubbed behind his dog’s ears. “He must’ve done somethin’ to really piss her off. Cryin’ rape is one thing, but murder? Now that’s fucked up.” He chuckled. “Bet you she’s on a private island somewhere, soakin’ up the sun and livin’ her best damn life while he suffers.”

“Wait—what? So you really think Melanie is still out there somewhere?”

“Oh, I know she’s still out there somewhere. She’s gotta be. She’s a lotta things, but she was never suicidal. That was more Miley’s lane. No telling where she is, and it’s been years. Doubt anybody’ll find her or even believe my word for it.” He dropped his arms and stood up, his dog rising with him. “But as badly as I’d love to see her get caught in whatever shit she’s caused, I’m aimin’ for a better life and don’t want shit to do with any of hers, so I need y’all to leave now.”

I stood and Ben and Shelia did the same. “I understand. Thank you for your time.” Ben and Shelia headed for the door, but I stopped and turned to look back at him. “Oh—before I go, do you think you can get me in touch with Pauline?” If there was someone who knew where Melanie was, it was her mother. She had to know. Who else would she have turned to when there was no one left?

“Yeah,” he grumbled, lumbering toward the narrow hallway. “Hopefully it’s still the same. Wait right here.”

His dog watched me a brief moment before following his owner. When they were gone, I looked back at Shelia and Ben, who were both staring at me with dubious eyes.

“It’ll be quick,” I whispered.

I noticed a desk in the corner and walked toward it. It was neat, like the rest of the home, notebooks stacked properly and his pens and pencils in a single plastic cup. I heard Calvin rifling around so I took the opportunity to open one of the drawers. There was nothing inside it but more pens and sticky notes. I opened the other drawer and saw paper clips, a magnet, and Sharpies.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ben hissed.

I glared back at him. “Shh.”

Seconds later, Calvin returned and had a notebook in hand. He went to the desk and took out one of the pads of sticky notes, used a pen from the cup to write down the number, and then handed it to me. “Hopefully you can get ahold of her.”

“Thank you.” I tucked the paper in my tote bag, but my eye caught the necklace around his neck. It was a gold chain, and on the end of it was a dangling dove.

A dove that looked exactly like the earring I found in the bathroom drawer in the mansion.

Oh. Shit.

As if he noticed where my gaze had gone, he looked down at the necklace too, then lifted it to tuck it beneath the collar of his T-shirt.

“That all?” He stared harder at me.

“Yes. Thank you again for your time.” I rapidly turned away, passing Shelia and Ben at the door and scurrying down the driveway.

When we were all inside the car, I pressed my back against the leather seat, damn near hyperventilating.

“Samira? Samira! What’s wrong?” Shelia wailed, turning in her seat to look at me.

“I—he had on—”

“Breathe, Mira! Breathe!”

I pressed a hand to my chest, then looked toward the house. The corner of one of the blinds on his windows was tilted upward, but it dropped quickly when I noticed. He was watching us.

“We have to go. Now.”