Sutton loved Dashiell. Carried him with her everywhere. He’d outgrown the withy basket she kept by her desk and spent his out-of-arms time in a car seat stationed within five feet of her at all times. Ethan had finally won the battle to let the tyke sleep in his crib in his nursery instead of in their bed. It had been hard for Sutton, even harder for him. It was impossible to sleep well knowing Sutton was getting up to check on the baby every hour.

He’d told her because he knew she’d gotten used to it. To being a mother. To having a child. To being a family.

He knew she loved Dashiell.

But when he admitted what he’d done, it was like something inside her snapped.

THE STRANGE CASE OF THE MISSING WIFE

Now

Dialing 9-1-1 felt holy, prophetic. He’d only done it once before, the night they’d found the baby dead, and the whole event replayed itself in minute splashes of memory. Pick up the phone the police arrived depress the buttons they looked right through you, as if they knew you were responsible it rang, once, twice, three times there will have to be an autopsy, I’m sorry.

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

My baby is dead.

Ivy was staring at him. He cleared his throat. “My wife is missing.”

A slight exhalation from the operator, as if she were relieved it wasn’t a real emergency.

“Is your address 460 Third Avenue South, Franklin?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Ethan. Ethan Montclair.”

“What’s your wife’s name, sir?”

“Sutton Montclair.”

“How old is she?”

“Thirty-eight. No, thirty-seven. Oh, her birthday...”

“Height, weight, hair color?”

“Five-eleven, strawberry blonde, maybe 140, 150? I don’t know exactly. She hasn’t been working out. She’s very pretty.”

“When did you see her last?”

“Monday night.”

“Yesterday?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Is there any reason to assume she’s in danger, sir? Has she been receiving strange phone calls or threats?”

“Um, not that I know of. There was a reporter who was hassling her—she’s a writer, we’re both writers. But it wasn’t physical.”

“And why do you think she’s missing?”

“She left a note, told me not to look for her. Normally I’d respect her wishes. But I, we, lost our baby recently. It’s not probable, but she could have tried to hurt herself.”

A pause, then a kinder, gentler operator emerged. “I see. I understand. The police will be there shortly, sir.”

“Thank you. Thank you very much.”

He hung up. Ivy raised a brow. “They’re sending someone.”

“Good. Now, let’s see if we can get into her computer while we’re waiting.”

Ethan followed Ivy to Sutton’s office. “Do you know her password?”

“I can guess.”

“I couldn’t.”

Ivy gave him another strange, appraising look.

“Why does everyone suddenly seem to know my wife better than I do? First her mother, then the weird sisters, now you. What the bloody hell is going on around here?”

“God, you talked to Siobhan? Sutton won’t like that one bit.”