“Honestly? I don’t know. Maybe she’s paying me back for everything by making me sick with worry. I expect her to come waltzing in the door any minute and yell, ‘Surprise!’”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you.”

“I’m only half kidding. What I don’t get is the missing money.”

Ivy didn’t bat a perfectly groomed eyelash. “I agree, that is odd. How much, and from where?”

“Our investment account. Fifty thousand. Withdrawn over six months.” He handed over the spreadsheet, felt a small spark of pride. Ivy understood money. It was in her blood. She’d appreciate his effort, at least.

She perused the paper, biting on her lower left lip. A bad habit she had; it made her seem young, breakable. It was the only dent he’d ever seen in her armor. Not that he’d been paying attention.

“This could be for anything.”

“It could. But it’s not. I think she’s fled.”

Ivy set the paper down on the marble. Took a sip of her water. “Why would she run away from you, Ethan? Sutton has been through hell, yes, but so have you. I can’t imagine her just up and leaving without a word. She’s stronger than that.”

“She left word. She left a note.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

She read it with the same concentration she’d given the spreadsheet, carefully, fully, allowing the words to sink in.

Another little lip gnaw.

“Well, Ethan, what do you want to do?”

“I want to find her and strangle her for making me worry like this, that’s what.”

“I’m not sure that’s the most productive angle. The police might take offense were they to hear you talking in those terms, too.”

He ran both hands through his hair, shook his head. “It’s just...what the hell is she thinking? If she wanted out, why not be up front about it? Why steal fifty grand and sneak away in the night? It doesn’t seem like her. Something’s not right about all of this. I’m no longer feeling comfortable with she decided to leave as an answer.”

“Then it is time to call the police. Let them make the decision for you. Don’t you think?”

“I went to see Joel Robinson. He wants to be here when I talk to them.”

“That’s good. At least you’ll be protected. Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this. I promise.”

He looked at his Breitling, a relic passed down from his grandfather. Took a deep breath. “Joel said he’d be here at five. It’s 4:40 p.m. now. Here goes nothing.”

He reached for the phone and dialed 9-1-1, trying like hell to keep his mind focused on his missing wife, not thinking about the last time he was forced to do this.

SIDS, OR NOT TO SIDS

Then

The baby wasn’t breathing. He was cold and blue, and Sutton was standing over the crib with a look of shock on her face. Her voice was high and reedy, bordering on complete hysteria. She was slapping at her head.