Page 11 of Wild Fever
She scoffed. "God, no!”
I shared a look with JD.
"So, he wasn't on any type of medication?”
Janice shook her head.
"Did he express any suicidal thoughts to you at any time recently or in the past?”
"No. Preston's always been in great spirits. I think he's been a little stressed lately at work, but that's understandable. They work him to the bone. I kept telling him he needs to find something else. Something with less pressure.”
"What did your husband do, ma'am?" I asked.
"He was a financial analyst for STT-X. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure what he really did. But there was always an emergency. Always a deadline. Always something he had to fix.”
Strategic Tactical Technologies and Execution was one of the largest defense contractors. They made just about everything—rockets, fighter jets, attack drones, anti-personnel devices, you name it. A lot of top-secret projects. As a financial analyst, Preston probably tracked budgets, expenditures, ensured compliance, and handled other mundane accounting issues.
Janice tried to clear her head. "I'm sorry, but did you say he shot himself on the boat? I think I've heard about half of what you said. You have to forgive me."
"It's understandable. Yes, ma'am.”
Confusion tensed her brow. It just didn't make sense to her. "He told me he was going to be at the golf course today. He’d taken a PTO day and needed to blow off steam.” Her mouth tensed. "I should have known something was wrong when they showed up."
"Who isthey?”
9
"Company security," Janice said. "They stopped by the house a few hours ago. They were looking for Preston. I told them they could find him at the country club. I asked what this was about. They said it was a minor security issue, and they needed Preston's assistance. Apparently, they couldn't get hold of him by phone. I couldn’t either. I called, but it went straight to voicemail. Not unusual when he’s playing golf.” Her eyes filled again, and she tried to hold back the tears. She buried her face in a tissue for a moment, then pulled herself together. "What time did this happen?”
"Sometime between 1 and 3:00 PM,” I said.
The tears spilled over again. Janice sobbed for a moment, then settled.
"I know this is difficult,” I said. “I'm sorry to keep asking you questions.”
"It's okay. You’re just doing what you have to do.”
"Did Preston own a pistol?"
"Well, he shot himself with something, didn't he?”
“Yes, ma'am. I just want to ascertain whether it was his pistol or someone else's.”
Her brow knitted. “Who else’s?”
JD and I shared a look, then I said to her, “You’re telling me he wasn’t suicidal.”
She shook her head. “No. He wasn’t suicidal.” Then she considered it. “Maybe I just didn’t know.” Her face tightened with guilt. “Maybe I missed all the signs. Maybe that’s why he’d been so distant lately.” The sorrow compounded, and she cried, “What if I’ve been a terrible wife?”
She broke down, bawling.
“I’m sure you were a wonderful wife,” I said, trying to soothe a pain that I couldn’t do anything about. Janice pulled herself together after a moment, and I asked, “How would you describe your relationship as of late?”
After some contemplation, she said, “Things have been strained lately. But I didn’t think they werethatbad. Like I said, Preston was under a lot of stress at work.”
“I hate to ask, but had you seen any evidence to suggest your husband might have been having an affair?”
She looked horrified at the thought. “No! Not possible. Preston would never do something like that.”
