Page 46 of Dear Wife

“By planning to ditch their spouses, you mean. Yes, I know about that, too. Ingrid and Dr. McAdams both told me.”

“According to the doctor, Sabine was also pregnant.”

“Yeah, he told me the joyful news.” He says it through curled lips, and with a tone like he’d just stepped in dog shit.

“How’d that go over?”

“I punched him, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’d also caution him, before he gets too excited, to take a look at Sabine’s medical records.”

“You think she’s lying?”

“I think he should take a look at her medical records. Out of respect for Sabine’s privacy, I don’t want to say more.”

“You weren’t respecting her all that much when you punched her in the face.”

His face goes white, then beet red, fury firing through his veins. He knows that little tidbit came from Ingrid. It’s the same expression he used with her in my office.

He stabs a finger on his desk. “Okay, first of all, I didnotpunch her. Not even close. It was a light slap with the back of my hand, one I regretted as soon as it happened. That’s all it was.”

“That must have been one hell of a slap.”

“We were arguing. Things got heated. She shoved me. I slapped her. Afterward, we apologized, and that was that. We moved on.”

“What were you arguing about?”

He lifts both hands in the air. “I don’t know, Detective. What does any married couple argue about? Taking out the trash, dirty clothes on the floor, using the last of the shampoo. Take your pick.”

“Would you say you’re a jealous man?”

He narrows his eyes. “My wife is cheating on me, Detective. I think I’m allowed to be jealous. But again, I didn’t find this out untilaftershe went missing.”

I shrug. “Still. Your wife certainly had her secrets. Secret bank accounts, secret lover. I wonder what else she was keeping from you.”

I leave the question dangling, and he doesn’t pick it up. It’s something he’s probably wondered a million times since finding out about the doctor, but what is it they say? Never ask a question you don’t want the answer to.

“According to Ingrid, Sabine had consulted an attorney,” I say, consulting my notepad. “She was going to ask you—”

“For a divorce, I know. This past weekend, apparently.” He leans back in his chair. “Ingrid and Trevor told me that, too.”

I scratch at a cheek, watching him. Waiting. For the span of a good three breaths, maybe four.

Jeffrey is the first to lose patience. “What?”

“I’m just wondering what would happen. If she’d gotten the chance to ask you for a divorce, I mean. Who would get the house? How would you split up your assets?”

“Come on, Detective. We both know I’d get the shitty end of the stick. But okay, I’ll play this game. If Sabine and I got a divorce, I’d probably move away. This is a dead-end job in a dead-end town. I’d have better opportunities elsewhere.”

I nod, satisfied for now. “Let’s go back to the fight. After Sabine shoved you and you punched her—”

“Slapped,” he says, his voice clipped. “Islappedher. Not punched. There’s a big difference.”

“After you slapped her, then what did you do?”

“I apologized, of course. So did she. We put it behind us and moved on.”

“But not before you had another heated exchange via text.”

He pales, his body twitching before he can stop it.

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