Seconds to Live (Scarlet Falls #3)(12)

“You ready to talk to the husband?” Brody asked.

“Yes.” Shivering, Stella headed for the stairs with Brody on her heels.

At the foot of the steps, they walked down a short hall and into a living room open to the kitchen. The downstairs appeared undisturbed. There was the normal amount of daily living clutter: some mail on the hall table, a pair of athletic shoes half tucked under the sofa, two glasses in the sink, but nothing that indicated a struggle.

Adam Miller sat at the kitchen table. In his early thirties, he was clean-cut and dressed in my-daddy’s-a-lawyer attire: basic salmon-colored shorts and a white polo shirt. He blinked up at them as they walked into the room. His eyes were empty and stunned.

Stella turned a chair to face the husband, sat, and then introduced herself and Brody. “Mr. Miller, can you tell us what happened?”

His gaze dropped to his clenched hands. “I came home from the golf course to change. The door was open. It’s never open. Dena always keeps the doors locked when she’s home alone.”

“Was the door wide open?” Stella nudged him back on track.

“No. Less than an inch. Not enough for me to notice until I tried to put my key in the lock.”

“What did you do?”

“I went into the kitchen.” He rubbed the back of his hand under his nose. “She wasn’t there, but her phone was on the counter where she usually leaves it to charge.” Adam nodded toward a flat expanse of counter where a cell phone was plugged into the wall. “I thought she must be upstairs. Maybe her hands had been full and she’d forgotten to shut the door. But when I got up there and saw the mess . . .” He paused, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“Do you recognize the broken glass?” Stella asked.

“Yes. Dena keeps several bottles of perfume on the vanity.” Adam’s chest heaved. “I can’t believe it. Everything was finally going good for her. For us.”

“Does Dena work?”

“No. She’s on disability,” he said. “She fell down the stairs four years ago and broke a bone in her neck.”

“Is she able to walk and drive?”

He nodded. “She’s doing really well lately. She found a good physical therapist and is making progress.”

“What do you do for a living?” Stella asked.

“I’m an accountant.” Miller clenched his fist, uncurled the fingers, and tightened them again.

“You were playing golf today?”

He nodded. “I’ve been trying to land this new client. A round of golf guarantees four solid hours to make a subtle pitch.”

“What time did you get home?” Stella prompted.

“I left the course about two thirty, after a long lunch.” Adam’s voice was quiet and unsteady. “I wanted to drop off my clubs, shower, and change before heading back to the office.” He dropped his hand, raised his chin, and met Stella’s gaze. His brown eyes radiated pain and confusion. “Where is my wife?” His voice broke.

“That’s what we want to find out,” Stella said.

He sniffed, a ragged breath shaking him.

Stella gave him a few seconds to compose himself. “Does she have any close family or friends?”

He shook his head. “No. Since her accident, she doesn’t go out much. She’s an only child and her parents are dead.”

“Do you know what your wife’s plans were for today?”

“She was scheduled to see her physical therapist this morning and then get a massage at one o’clock. I expected her to be home when I got here.”

“Do you know if she made it to either appointment?” Stella took a small notebook from her jacket pocket.

Adam jumped to his feet, his hand patting his pocket and pulling out a cell phone. “No. I was so upset when I saw the broken glass and the blood in the bathroom, I wasn’t thinking. Let me call them now.”

“We’ll call.” Stella made a note of the phone numbers as he read them to her. “Did she mention anything unusual this week? Was she upset or did she display any odd behavior?”

“No.” His chin snapped up. “You’re not going to write her off as not worth your time, are you? Or make me wait forty-eight hours before you start looking for her?”

“No, Mr. Miller. We want to start looking for your wife right away,” Stella assured him. The forty-eight hour rule only applied to TV shows. The sooner they started looking for Dena, the better. “Which golf course did you say you played this morning?”

Adam shot her a sharp glance.

“Routine.” Stella smiled. “The more information you give us, the better.”

“I’ll give you anything you want if it’ll help you find her,” Adam said.

“Financial records would be helpful as well,” Brody added from where he’d been leaning on the wall.

Adam’s head whipped around. “Why would you need those?”

Brody didn’t miss a beat. “Credit card statements are very helpful in tracking a person’s movements.”

“Oh.” But Adam’s eyes narrowed in distrust.

Stella scanned the countertops. “Have you seen your wife’s purse?”

He shook his head, confusion knotting his brows. “No. It’s usually on the dresser.”