Page 77 of Still Missing You

“Nancy, you have to help us. Matthew needs a doctor. He’s sick.”

“You have to understand,” she says, but makes no move to release Matthew or step away from the opening. “I had no idea what Jim was doing. I mean, I knew there was something, but I could never have guessed this.” Her eyes are glassy, distant, and something in her soft, monotone voice sends a chill down my spine.

“Of course not,” I agree, carefully. “No one could blame you, but you know now. Matthew needs a doctor, but he’s chained to the wall. Do you know where Jim keeps the key?”

Her gaze flicks to Matthew, then back to me, and she shakes her head.

“I should have realized something was wrong,” she says, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. The light narrows again, with just the glow of the flashlight aimed at the floor, leaving us in dim shadow. “Jim started acting strange almost from the moment Matthew checked in. But I didn’t know why and didn’t know about the others.”

“Because of Matthew?” I ask carefully.

“He was anxious, nervous, while Matthew was in town,” she says. “It made him angry and impatient. He was so short-tempered, snapping at me and the children. Not himself at all. I was sure Jim must have known Matthew somehow, but when I asked, he denied it and told me I was being paranoid and stupid.”

“Nancy,” I try to cut in, but she continues on as if I haven’t said anything.

“When Matthew left town, I thought Jim would settle down, and things would get better. But he was even more agitated.”

“Didn’t you wonder why he reacted that way to Matthew? Or why he spent so much time in this shed?” I ask her.

“I worried maybe they’d been lovers, and I was afraid to poke at that truth, afraid I’d lose everything. My children would lose everything.” She lets out a hollow laugh. “I had no idea just how terrible the truth really was.”

Her mouth presses into a flat line, and her hand trembles when she brushes imaginary fluff from her long, puffy gray coat.

“Eventually, Jim settled, and he was the man I’ve always known again.” Her eyes lock onto mine, mouth twisting in disdain. “Then you showed up.”

“Nancy—” I try, but she cuts me off again, taking a step inside, reaching back without looking to ease the door shut behind her.

“He never believed your story that you were boyfriends looking for your cousin.”

A cold, creeping dread prickles up my spine. “What do you mean?”

“He knew you were lying from the start,” she says. “You and your boyfriend. The private investigator. The ex-cop.”

My breath catches. Ice floods my veins. Had Jim done something to Hunter?

“He panicked,” Nancy continues. “Started withdrawing money from our savings. Large amounts.”

“He was planning to run,” I realize.

“He had to know that I would notice, but he didn’t care. I think he meant to kill me too.”

“Why would he do that?” I ask, even though I already know.

Her expression doesn’t change. “He was going to run, and I, and even our children, are loose ends. Then I found the videos, and I knew what I had to do.”

My stomach turns cold. “What did you do?” I ask.

“It was surprisingly easy,” she says. “He likes to pour himself a drink and watch the videos of what he does here in this shed. I saw them; I even saw what he’s done to you.” Her gaze lifts to Matthew. He lets out a weak, broken sound before her gaze returns to me. “A little monkshood in his whiskey, and that was that.”

Matthew goes completely still behind me.

“What did you do?” I ask. “Is Jim dead?”

Her eyes snap back to mine. “It was either him or me. What else could I do?”

“You did the right thing,” I say carefully. Her expression flickers, but she doesn’t respond. “You protected your family. That’s not a crime. That’s self-defense.”

Her shoulders sag slightly, as if the words hit somewhere deep.