I Have a Secret (A Sloane Monroe Novel, Book Three) Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Cheryl Bradshaw
don’t even have a body to bury, and I probably never will. By now I bet he’s not even in one piece. Did you know sharks can smell blood a quarter mile away? And once they catch a whiff, it’s only a matter of minutes before…”
Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes and spilled onto the blanket she clutched in her hands. The only thing I could offer was to allow her to get it all out of her system. I felt powerless. I wanted to say something—anything, but it was times like these when I always felt I said the wrong thing. I couldn’t bring Doug back, but I could be there for her, and in that moment, my support was all that mattered to me.
When the tears had dried and gone, Trista glanced at me. “I’m ready. Ask your questions.”
“Are you sure? Because we can do this later. I don’t want to push you.”
She pulled herself up to a seated position, threw the blanket to the side and wrapped her hands around her knees. “Tomorrow this will all be over. Let’s do it now.”
I nodded. “Can you think of anyone who wanted to harm Doug in any way?”
She shook her head. “Doug was the type of person who made friends, not enemies.”
“What about his job? How were things there?” I said.
“I don’t know. He didn’t talk about it much. It’s not like being the manager at TFB was hard. Granted the town has changed a lot since you were there last, but it’s still small and friendly, just like it’s always been.”
“What about his demeanor? Have you noticed a change—anything out of the ordinary?”
Trista sat back and didn’t say anything for a moment.
I leaned forward and looked her in the eye. “It’s okay, you can talk to me. What you tell me stays in this room, between us. I’m not here to judge you, and if you want my help, I need to know everything.”
“You remember what Doug was like in high school, right?”
“Who doesn’t?” I said. “Every girl wanted to date him, and every guy wanted to be him. I was surprised when he turned down that football scholarship to Stanford and you two got married. The last time we talked, you guys had your bags packed and planned on attending together, but then you never left.”
She nodded. “I was chosen to be on their cheer team, and we were all set, but right before we were supposed to leave, things got complicated.”
“He threw it all away to become a bank manager for the rest of his life?”
She shrugged. “Once his mind was made up, he said he only cared about one thing—getting married.”
“You two have been together a long time.”
“Twenty years.”
“What was married life like?”
She smiled. “Doug has always been sweet to me….”
“But?” I said.
“He had a drinking problem. It started right after we married.”
“How bad was it?”
“It was tolerable at first, and I didn’t think much of it. He’d come home from work and have a few beers. He seemed fine, and I figured he was a typical guy.”
“What changed?”
Trista rubbed her arms with the palms of her hands like the air conditioning in the room had just been turned on and glanced out her balcony window. “I’m not sure I can talk about this.”
In my experience as a PI I’d learned sometimes in order to get a person to a comfortable place where they were willing to talk, the best way to go about it was to share a personal experience of my own. It created a type of bond with the person and made them feel like not only did I sympathize, I empathized as well. But since I was a big fan of keeping my personal life private, I reserved this for special occasions only when I felt the risk would payoff in the end.
“Do you remember Colin Ross?” I said.
She squinted and stared at the television which wasn’t on. “Vaguely. Wasn’t he in our class?”
I shook my head. “He was one grade above us.”
“Didn’t he have a sister—Missy?”
“Mindy,” I said.
Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes and spilled onto the blanket she clutched in her hands. The only thing I could offer was to allow her to get it all out of her system. I felt powerless. I wanted to say something—anything, but it was times like these when I always felt I said the wrong thing. I couldn’t bring Doug back, but I could be there for her, and in that moment, my support was all that mattered to me.
When the tears had dried and gone, Trista glanced at me. “I’m ready. Ask your questions.”
“Are you sure? Because we can do this later. I don’t want to push you.”
She pulled herself up to a seated position, threw the blanket to the side and wrapped her hands around her knees. “Tomorrow this will all be over. Let’s do it now.”
I nodded. “Can you think of anyone who wanted to harm Doug in any way?”
She shook her head. “Doug was the type of person who made friends, not enemies.”
“What about his job? How were things there?” I said.
“I don’t know. He didn’t talk about it much. It’s not like being the manager at TFB was hard. Granted the town has changed a lot since you were there last, but it’s still small and friendly, just like it’s always been.”
“What about his demeanor? Have you noticed a change—anything out of the ordinary?”
Trista sat back and didn’t say anything for a moment.
I leaned forward and looked her in the eye. “It’s okay, you can talk to me. What you tell me stays in this room, between us. I’m not here to judge you, and if you want my help, I need to know everything.”
“You remember what Doug was like in high school, right?”
“Who doesn’t?” I said. “Every girl wanted to date him, and every guy wanted to be him. I was surprised when he turned down that football scholarship to Stanford and you two got married. The last time we talked, you guys had your bags packed and planned on attending together, but then you never left.”
She nodded. “I was chosen to be on their cheer team, and we were all set, but right before we were supposed to leave, things got complicated.”
“He threw it all away to become a bank manager for the rest of his life?”
She shrugged. “Once his mind was made up, he said he only cared about one thing—getting married.”
“You two have been together a long time.”
“Twenty years.”
“What was married life like?”
She smiled. “Doug has always been sweet to me….”
“But?” I said.
“He had a drinking problem. It started right after we married.”
“How bad was it?”
“It was tolerable at first, and I didn’t think much of it. He’d come home from work and have a few beers. He seemed fine, and I figured he was a typical guy.”
“What changed?”
Trista rubbed her arms with the palms of her hands like the air conditioning in the room had just been turned on and glanced out her balcony window. “I’m not sure I can talk about this.”
In my experience as a PI I’d learned sometimes in order to get a person to a comfortable place where they were willing to talk, the best way to go about it was to share a personal experience of my own. It created a type of bond with the person and made them feel like not only did I sympathize, I empathized as well. But since I was a big fan of keeping my personal life private, I reserved this for special occasions only when I felt the risk would payoff in the end.
“Do you remember Colin Ross?” I said.
She squinted and stared at the television which wasn’t on. “Vaguely. Wasn’t he in our class?”
I shook my head. “He was one grade above us.”
“Didn’t he have a sister—Missy?”
“Mindy,” I said.