Rafe winds around my arms, his tail rubbing across my face. “Mrrrrp.”
Hayes and Wilson exchange a look I can’t read. When Hayes turns back to me, his shoulders slump. “These are the kind of hotels that have aday rate. And there are other charges here for fancy restaurants and expensive boutiques.”
“My husband is always entertaining people. He has to try to sell his products into big stores.”
When Wilson speaks again, her voice is a little softer than before. “Has your husband brought you any lingerie recently?”
“That’s not an appropriate question!”
“He’s spent a lot of money at Honey Birdette.” Hayes flips through pages and pages of lines of numbers. My heart flips. “I think you can see the picture we’re building here. You didn’t know about this?”
I shake my head. I don’t trust myself to speak.
They’re saying that Warrick was cheating on me. That he had a mistress and he was spending wild sums of money – ofourmoney – on wining and dining her and on hotels in the middle of the day. But that’simpossible.
Warrick wasn’t perfect. He was far, far,farfrom perfect. But he wouldnevercheat. He had a strict moral code. He’d had a horrible family life growing up, and it’s made him long for the kind of picture-perfect British sitcom family you see in TV shows. He came home to me every night, even when he had to drive for hours in the dark. That’s devotion. He wasdevoted. Hewouldn’tcheat.
That rotten bastard. I knew it. I knew he’d be a cheater. Any man who treats a woman like Autumn as if she’s a collectable Star Trek model that must be kept under lock and key so no one else can enjoy her is going to be a cheater. He’s lucky that he’s missing because when I find him, I’m going to scratch his eyes out and use his favourite slippers as a litter box.
Rafe’s cat thoughts land in my head, layering over top of my denial. I know that witches and their familiars have a telepathic connection, but Rafe technically isn’t my familiar. I don’t think? I need to look up familiars in the family grimoire. And Rafe and I are going to have a serious conversation about invading my personal cerebral bubble.
But not now.
Rafe settles into my arms, butting his head under my chin. He purrs loudly, his thoughts rumbling through my head.How can thepolice just spring this on her? They’re heartless, and they clearly think she’s a suspect. Can’t they see that she’s devastated?
Do I look devastated?
Am I devastated?
I’ve been numb for so long, I don’t know what devastation feels like.
“We don’t know anything for certain yet, Mrs Abernathy. And these charges could have nothing to do with your husband’s disappearance.” Hayes flips back through the pages. “Now, I’m interested in these two deposits. Two weeks before your husband disappeared, someone transferred £20,000 to him from an untraceable Swiss bank account. This has gone into his personal account, not his business. Do you know anything about that?”
My pulse thunders in my ears, like the roar of the ocean on that Majorca holiday we could never afford again.
£20,000? We’ve never had £20,000.
I’m staring down at Rafe, who has burrowed into my arms. I stand, holding him against my chest, dimly aware that he might consider this stealing his agency, but he’s the only thing that feels safe to hold onto as my world rolls out from beneath me.
That utter, utter bastard,Rafe growls over and over inside my head.Don’t let go, honey witch. You can snuggle me all you like.
I feel Hayes and Wilson’s eyes on me, but I can’t lift my head from Rafe’s fur to meet their gaze.Everything I thought I knew about my husband is a lie.
I guess he might say the same about me if he were here.
But he’s not.
“Mrs Abernathy?” Hayes prods. “Do you know something about a payment two weeks ago?”
I think back two weeks. That was after he told me that his friend didn’t want to license my mead recipe. I’d gone to him with the idea of bottling my mead myself. He said that we didn’t have the money, that it would take too much capital to start up. And all the while, he had£20,000 in the bank and was buying lingerie for someone.“He was in London a lot that week,” I say. “He and his personal assistant,Veronkia, were wining and dining some clients from a big food and beverage company. He said the meetings went well. He even came home with a box of chocolates for me. But I don’t know anything about the money.”
“A second payment of twenty thousand pounds came in the day he disappeared. So you can see why we might be interested in these deposits?”
I nod. And nod, and nod. I think my head might topple off my shoulders.
Rafe clambers onto my shoulder, purring in my ear.
“Thank you, Mrs Abernathy. That’s all our questions at this time. If there’s anything you remember about your husband’s behaviour recently that strikes you as different, out of the ordinary, or anything else that has struck you as odd, please tell us. It might not seem important, but we don’t know until we investigate.”
