“Who’s asking?” she finally questioned.

“We’re with the FBI,” Tara said as she flashed her badge. “We just wanted to ask him a couple questions. Are you his wife?”

A look of concern swept over her as she nodded. “Is he in some kind of trouble?” she blurted, before realizing her words could be too telling.

She stroked her hair anxiously once more, making sure it had fallen into its proper place.

Suddenly Warren spoke. “No, ma’am, we just want to talk to him.”

The woman’s eyes fell to the floor as she shook her head. “He’s out hunting.”

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” Tara asked.

She shook her head again. “Maybe tomorrow?” she guessed. “He stays overnight usually in our cabin.”

Tara and Warren shared a quick glance before Tara spoke. “When did he leave?”

A silence fell around them and the woman sighed. She was growing nervous by their incessant questioning.

“Like we said, he’s not in any trouble,” Warren added again.

But Tara knew that wasn’t what was troubling her. There was something about her that gave Tara a strange feeling—a familiarity. She had never met this woman before, yet she had seen this behavior—the awkward nervousness caused by a broken interior. It was like looking into the eyes of someone she knew well—her mother.

“We won’t tell him we were here if you’d like,” Tara finally said.

The woman remained quiet for a moment longer, ignoring the remark, but her face relaxed.

“He left yesterday morning,” she finally revealed.

Tara placed the pieces carefully together in her head. He had been gone since yesterday, before evidence showed he met the victim, and yet he still hadn’t come home. It all sounded premeditated and now, after meeting his wife, it was evident that he seemed violent.

“Would you be able to give us an address for the cabin?” Tara asked.

The woman nodded before leaving the room and coming back moments later with a pen and paper. She scribbled something on it and handed it to Tara.

Tara thanked her, but before they said their goodbyes, Tara asked her one last question. “May I ask what happened to your cheek?”

The woman’s hand instinctually covered the area of her face. She stood there, dumbfounded, as redness seeped to the surface of her skin. But then a look of horror flashed before Tara as the woman realized why she would ask that—that her husband might actually be in trouble after all—and that could only mean that she would now be too, but at the hands of him.

“I fell,” she finally blurted before slamming the door in their faces.

***

Warren pulled onto a side road as they neared their destination, and Tara looked up from the map on her phone. She had just finished reading the last direction to Warren and now they sat in silence, as Tara felt awkwardness sweep through the car.

She finally looked over at him. His eyes were unwaveringly focused in front of him, but she decided to speak to ease her anxiety. She hated silence.