The Way Home by Jean Brashear Page B

wasteland he would inhabit if Bella were taken from him. Then with painful slowness, he opened the book.
    The very first page nearly undid him. Bella, soaking wet, dancing in the mud with a young Cele and toddler Cameron.
    He held out the album with shaking hands. “Study this and tell me I could ever have any desire to kill my wife.” He shoved it at the detective. “I was stupid, all right? I lost sight of what was important. Bella and I—God, we were everything to each other, and then somehow…I don’t know what the hell happened, but I screwed up, big-time, and Bella went away to think. That’s all—she just wanted some time to decide if—” His voice cracked, and he stopped, but he didn’t care anymore if he was embarrassing himself. “You’ve got to find her. I have to tell her I remember everything. That I’m a jerk, and I deserve to be punished, but not by—” He was afraid to say the words, in case doing so gave them power to make his fears come true.
    Then he faced the impassive cop before him, forcing eye contact. “I love my wife, Detective. She is everything to me.”
    The policeman turned away. Pulled out his cell phone.
    “Detective—”
    Gordon halted.
    “What do I tell my children? My son is expecting me to call back.”
    “How old are they?”
    “Twenty-three and nineteen.”
    “For my money, the truth is always the best place to start, sir.”
    “So, what is the truth? Is their father a suspect in their mother’s disappearance? Is their mother still—” He faltered on the word. “Alive?” He held up a hand. “She has to be. I’d know it if she wasn’t. I’d—” He tapped his heart. “I’d feel it, in here.”
    Gordon’s smile was all pity. “People often think that.”
    “I’m certain of it.”
    “I hope you’re right, Mr. Parker. Honestly, I do.”
    “So what about the first question? Am I under suspicion?”
    “Everyone’s under suspicion in the beginning, sir. It’s my job to weed that number down.”
    “Are you good at your job, Detective?”
    “I am.”
    “I damn sure hope so. That woman is my world.”
    “Understood.” Grim-faced, Gordon flipped open his phone and left the room.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    A FTER A SLEEPLESS night, James was in the kitchen, eyes pinned on the coffeepot, wondering how he would make it through the day. Cele was upstairs asleep in her old room, while he’d barely convinced Cameron not to cut classes today.
    Not that he didn’t understand the instinct to circle the wagons, to huddle together in a vigil after last night’s shocking news from Detective Gordon. But there was no telling when the police would find out anything more.
    Bella. Dear God, Bella. Every time he’d closed his eyes, terrifying images of her possible fate seared his eyeballs.
    He’d focused, instead, on putting the house in order as best he could after the police had left. To their credit, the search had been less invasive than he supposed it could have been.
    But he felt violated. The nest Bella had created, the house that had been their sanctuary, had been breached by strangers. He didn’t know how to make things feel safe again.
    Suddenly, footsteps pounded on the stairs. “Daddy, did you catch the news this morning?” Cele burst into the kitchen. “Quick, turn on the TV.” She switched on the little set Bella had sometimes tuned in while she was cooking.
    “What’s going on?” he asked. “Is there something—”
    Cele frantically punched buttons on the remote. “Look—they’re showing Mama’s picture. Someone sent it to CNN.”
    James moved toward the television set as if in a dream. “Bella,” he murmured, and held out his hand as if he could touch her. “Oh, baby, what happened to you?”
    Just then, the telephone rang. James kept his eyes on the screen as he answered it. “Hello?”
    “Mr. Parker, it’s Detective Gordon. Your wife’s been found.”
    “I’m watching her picture on the screen. I’ve never seen this photo before.