They were looking at him now. A small flutter of something—excitement, fear? He didn’t know—coursed through him. It was time.

You knew this would happen, Ethan. Why are you acting surprised? You need their help. Pick up the phone, put it back on the hook. Call Joel, have him help prepare a statement.

You fool. You actually thought you could get away with it, didn’t you?

The News, The Damning News

THE NEWS, THE DAMNING NEWS

They were in front of the house, going live for the 6:00 p.m. broadcasts. Because it had been over twenty-four hours since he’d talked to anyone, friend or foe, Ethan turned on the television to catch the show.

All had been quiet. Too quiet. In between the frantic worrying, he’d written uninterrupted for almost a full day. He knew there was a search ongoing, and he wanted to be out there, truly he did, but the media wouldn’t leave his front lawn, so he was stuck inside. Hoping and praying they didn’t find her.

He knew the police were trying to find Colin Wilde. He knew they were looking at him, too.

He’d wanted to call Holly Graham and take her temperature, find out what the heck she was thinking, what the police were planning. It couldn’t be long before they were knocking down the door with a warrant, wanting to look closer at everything.

He’d been so cooperative, though. Surely they were looking past the obvious. Surely they weren’t so lazy as to simply assume he’d done it.

Then again, this much silence wasn’t a good sign. He should probably call Joel, see if he’d heard anything. The broadcast started, the spinning chyron advertising a breaking news alert.

The reporter was pretty; of course she was, they all were. Ugly doesn’t sell on television.

He turned up the volume.

“I’m April O’Malley, coming to you live from Franklin, Tennessee, where we’ve been investigating the sudden disappearance of Sutton Montclair. The search continues, and the police seem to be spinning their wheels. We’ve had no confirmation that Ethan Montclair is a suspect in his wife’s disappearance, but you know how these cases so often go, the spouse is the one who’s ultimately responsible, and sources close to the investigation say a case is being made against Montclair as we speak. Evidence of abuse has surfaced, we’ve learned exclusively. Allegedly, actual photos exist.”

Photos of Sutton’s bruised arm and nose flashed on the screen. Where on earth had they gotten those?

Oh, her phone. The police had her phone. He fought back the urge to prank call it. Is your refrigerator running? Better go catch it.

No, Ethan, that wouldn’t be seemly. The reporter was still talking.