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“Great.” I look at Fletch. “Mayet found proof that our killer is a woman.”
Like I expected, his eyes widen and shoot to the interview room door. “Really? Jesus, I didn’t pick it this time. I don’t even think Perry would believe it if you showed him proof.”
I grab the door handle and smirk. “Sometimes, we miss what’s placed right in front of us. Let’s go.”
I open the door and startle a terrified Misty so her chair squeaks against the unforgiving floor, and her cheeks pale as we file in.
Two grown-ass men, twice her size and weight. We each carry a couple of guns, and right this moment, her husband is sitting inside a cage screaming about murder.
“Mrs. Perry.” I take out the chair on the opposite side of the table and lower down. I keep my expression neutral. Maybe even a little kind, since I know I’d want the cops to be nice to Mayet, if she’s ever pulled into a room like this.
She won’t be. Because I’ll burn the motherfuckin building down first. But still, on the off-chance…
“My name is Detective Archer Malone.” I tilt my head toward Fletch. “Detective Charlie Fletcher. We appreciate you coming down here today.”
“Is Vance in trouble?” Her chest spasms with sobbing tears, her jaw quivering and her eyes flipping from me to Fletch. “He wouldn’t hurt anyone, Detectives. He’s not a perfect husband, I know he’s not. But he would never hurt anyone.”
“Do you know why we’re here today?” I ask. “Why we might have you and your husband in the station, answering questions?”
She nods and reaches across the table to a box of tissues. She takes a half-dozen and crushes them in her hand. “Anna Switzer was on the news. I know she’s been killed.” But she shakes her head again and shreds her tissue. “But Vance would never do that.”
“Tell us about your most recent trip to Tulsa.” I sit back in my chair and settle in for a chat, folding my arms and nibbling on the inside of my cheek. “What day did you leave Copeland? What day did you come back?”
“Um…” She sniffs back a long line of snot and brings her tissues up to press them above her top lip. “I left nine days ago.” She plops her hands down in her lap and stares at them. “I got some bad news while I was at work, so I finished my shift, let Vance know I was heading out of town, and then I got in my car and went.”
“And you got back….?”
“Yesterday.”
“What was the bad news?” Fletch presses, though we all know what it was, and we all know everyone is aware of it. “What was said?”
Misty seems physically unable to lift her head. Weak from exhaustion. Lifeless from the constant offenses of a husband who refuses to remain faithful.
“Vance…” She sniffles again. “My husband, has been sleeping with another woman on and off for the last few months.”
“And that other woman is Anna Switzer,” Fletch inserts. “Right?”
She tears her tissues apart and nods. “Yes. Anna Switzer.”
“Our victim.”
“Yes,” she chokes out. “But Vance would never hurt her. I swear he wouldn’t.”
“Tell us about your trip,” I push on. “You got the news at work. How?”
She hesitantly brings her eyes up and meets mine. “I got a call. It was already mid-afternoon by then, so I finished my work, walked out at five, went home and packed a bag, and I was in the car by six.”
“And this is a habit for you, right? Vance cheats, you get news of it somehow, you get in your car, and you head to Tulsa. Some would even say you’re predictable?”
She drops her eyes again and nods. “Yes. I know you think I’m weak and stupid, but I just…” she shakes her head. “I don’t know what else to do. I’m not ready to give up on us yet. But I can’t stay in that house when it’s fresh, and look him in the eyes.” Her cheeks burn a furious red. “I always start out really sad, but that sad turns to anger quickly. It’s best for us both to be several states apart for a few days.”
“Angry at Vance?” Fletch asks. “Angry at Anna?”
“Angry at the world,” she sighs. “Angry at him. And of course, her. He’s a married man, Detective. Where’s the girl code? Where’s the respect amongst women? I know it’s on him to remain faithful, not on her, but why couldn’t she stay away, ya know? She had the pick of any man on the planet, and despite that, she kept coming back for mine.”
“This would have made you furious,” I conclude. “Pissed.”
“Pissed enough to get in the car and drive for days. Yeah.”
