The Hunt (Mike Greystone, Book 1) by Michael Sigurdsson Page A

of your time. I'm investigating the shooting and the death of your husband. Do you have any suspicions who could be the killer?" I asked.
    "I have no idea, Carter didn't have any enemies that I know of. I didn't have any enemies either."
    "Sorry for asking personal questions, but have you had any extramarital affairs recently?"
    "Sorry?” she became alert. “What are you suggesting?"
    "Your daughter, Karrie, identified the shooter as a person they’d seen at your house. From what they said, it must have been your lover. Obviously, they didn't put it that way, they're still too young. Needless to say, I didn't tell them what it was about so they’re not aware, don't worry."
    Lauren was visibly perturbed.
    "I need his name to track him down, capture and interview him to determine if he had anything to do with the shooting."
    Lauren's face turned white.
    "So you know everything," she despaired. "I don't believe it, it couldn't have been him. He was so nice and gentle," she started sobbing.
    "I need his name."
    "Ron Morgenthal," Lauren revealed the name while trying to overcome the emotions. I typed the name into my phone. Lauren continued, "I can't believe it. He couldn't do that."
    "Were you still meeting each other recently?" I asked.
    "No, we parted company a month or so ago."
    "Who initiated the split?"
    "I did, I suppose. I told him I liked him a lot, but it had become too risky, and we simply couldn't continue, so we needed to stop seeing each other," she explained, "in truth I got a little bored, and he didn't seem stable enough for me, if you know what I mean. But he surely wasn’t a bad guy."
    "Did he know your daily routines? Did you meet him often?"
    "Yes, once or twice a week,” she was looking down as she was talking. “We weren't too intimate mentally. It was just about sex, really. And he was really pleasant company. But we did have to agree to strict logistics so that my husband wouldn't find out. So he knew my daily schedule quite well."
    "I think he was trying to kill you, not your husband," I said.
    "Why would he, how can you know that?"
    "You would normally have been driving kids to school that day, is that right?"
    "That's correct," Lauren answered.
    "He knew you would do the school run. The bullet was meant for you."
    She stared at me for a long time.
    "My god, I killed my husband," she said. She was covering her face with her palms in despair. Quiet sobbing broke the silence in the room.
    "Don't blame yourself. He may have been charming, but to me he seemed to be either a crazy freak or professional. Not many people have access to hand-propelled grenades. He would have killed either you or your husband anyway, so don't blame yourself. Be grateful that your kids are safe and sound."
    I paused a moment to allow Mrs. Wimbledon to recover.
    "He might try to make another attempt on your life," I warned her. "Do you have anyplace away from home you could move to for a week or so until we find him? Preferably friends rather than family. Family members are in general easier to track down."
    "I'll have a think about it. I can’t think straight right now," she was still sobbing.
    "For now, I'll tell the police that you may require their protection while in hospital," I said.
    "Thank you," she said looking into my eyes. She had very nice eyes, and the rest of the package wasn't bad either. I know what you’re thinking, that would be taking advantage of a vulnerable person. Mike, you bastard. Of course, I wouldn’t approach her with that purpose. I could control my body, but my thoughts were beyond control. You see a nice ass, your eyes wander, no cure for that.
    "One more thing. Dr. Lockerby said that Karrie and John will require specialist therapy to recover from the trauma of the shooting and watching their father's death. This is apparently quite expensive."
    "We have some small savings, but I need to keep those to maintain the house. I’m not working. Will have to find a job. Cannot sell the house,