Page 16 of Wicked Witch of the Wolf

Four

“And here I didn’t think I could like him any less than I already did.”

Cecil chittered his agreement.

Bronwyn shrugged. “It was during an argument, said in the heat of the moment, which doesn’t excuse him at all, but I mention it to set the scene. He later apologized, did the whole flowers andI’d never hurt you, babybullshit.”

“And she still filed for divorce?” I asked, my tone thick with sarcasm. “Even after he apologized all nice and everything?”

“The day after the fight. Before the flowers and empty professions of love.” Bronwyn stood, walked around the desk and dug in a drawer, producing a photograph of a white woman in her mid-forties with shoulder-length blond hair, brown eyes. “It made no difference. She’d spent the night after the fight in a hotel and only played along so she could get inside to pack her things.”

“When did her personality change?”

“Right after she packed up and left. It was like night and day, Betty. She was consulting with an attorney and buying a ticket to flyout to her sister on the East Coast one minute, and the next she was canceling everything. Even the sound of her voice changed.”

She held up her cell phone. A “live” photo of Bronwyn and Maya was on the screen. The women were taking a selfie in front of a poster for a movie that had been popular last month. Maya was holding a very large paper cup.

Bronwyn’s high, lilting laughter introduced the clip.

“… drink the whole thing and spend the movie in the bathroom,” Maya said, with a giggle.

That was it. Just a few seconds, but it was enough for me to see that Maya matched Bronwyn’s bubbly, Disney-princess energy.

“I recorded this after she withdrew the divorce papers.” Bronwyn scrolled through her phone then held it up again.

The video had been recorded in Wicked. The lighting was dark, but it was clear from the angle that Bronwyn had propped her phone on the counter next to a display of soothing bath bombs.

Maya tilted her head stiffly. “You don’t have to worry about me. It’s all fine, now. Desmond and I are stronger than ever. It was a terrible misunderstanding.”

I’d expected her not to sound as excited as she had at the movie theater. What I hadn’t expected was for her voice to have dropped several octaves.

“Yeesh,” I said, suppressing a shudder. “She sounds flat.”

Cecil did an all-over body shiver. He’d picked up on it, too.

Bronwyn’s eyes went shiny with tears. “You get it, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I get it. I’ll need everything you can give me on her schedule. Especially when Desmond isn’t around. Does she go to the gym? Grocery? Mall? Can you invite her out somewhere and let me get a good look at her?”

“I can try. Desmond’s been monopolizing her time. That video was the last time I talked to her, and that was two weeks ago. She won’t answer my calls or texts. The only reason I know she’s alive is because I sat outside her house yesterday and waited for her to check the mail. She stumbled out like she was drunk and dropped half theletters on her way back inside.” She sank into her desk chair, her normally aggressively happy nature subdued. “Something’s wrong, Betty. And I’m worried that if we don’t figure out what it is, Desmond’s going to make good on his threat.”

Bronwyn gave me the information she had, promised to send me anything else she could find, and Cecil and I headed out to the parking lot.

“I didn’t mention this to Bronwyn, but I don’t mind admitting that I’m worried. Worldwide, over fifty-one thousand women and girls were murdered by their intimate partner last year, Cecil. That’s sixty percent of female homicides, which means women are far more likely to be killed by someone who purports to love them than in any other way.”

Cecil whistled.

“I know. It’s staggering. I’m not much for memorizing statistics, but the stories in that article made it hard to forget.”

We reached the Mini. I was digging the keys out of my bag when a man bolted out from behind the building to the other side of the car. I was already chanting under my breath and reaching for the packet of soil in my pocket when it hit me that I recognized this particular man.

I put the soil back and let the chant die out.

Cecil, however, did not have my restraint. A basalt stone rocketed over the hood and struck our uninvited guest.

“Ouch! Godsdamn it, that hit my eye.”

“Cool it, partner. We know this creeper.” I faced our would-be assailant. “Don’t sneak up on us like that. I was just reciting femicide statistics, for gods’ sakes.”

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