Page 4 of The Husband's Secret
And there were really good neighbors. She didn’t know any of them as well as she might like, but they were always friendly and considerate.
This house was one of the best choices of her adult life. Scott had never been happy here. He had far grander ideas. Ten months ago, after the separation, he’d bought a mansion on themountain above Jones Valley in an exclusive gated community. There wasn’t even a playground. But the move had confirmed for Brenda that it was over. He had known full well she wouldn’t move, and he obviously hadn’t cared.
She put her suitcase away in the closet and took her toiletries to the little en suite bathroom. The efficient bathroom and larger walk-in closet had once been a bedroom, but the former owner had turned the room into the must-have amenities for a primary bedroom. The house still had two other small bedrooms—one of which she currently used as an office. Brenda had really wanted a second child by now. She had thought about adding one of those popular shed type offices when the time came to free up that third bedroom, but her husband had shut down that plan. One was enough, he’d insisted.
That old anger simmered inside her. So much of their marriage she now regretted, no matter that it was difficult to hold a grudge against a dead man. And certainly she did not regret having sweet Janey.
The memory of the man she had seen in the airport nudged her. She picked up her cell phone and found Detective Warren Shelton’s number in her contacts. Maybe she should call and tell him about the encounter.
She bit her lip and considered it might not be such a good idea. The whole thing actually sounded a little outrageous now that she’d had time to really think about it. Scott was dead. He’d died in an explosion at his office along with his partner and another colleague. It had been a Saturday morning so, thankfully, the entire staff was not in the building. The only reason Brenda had known he was at the office that day was because it was his weekend to have Janey and he’d had to beg off picking her up until Saturday afternoon. Brenda never minded him canceling his time with their child, but Janey did. She mightonly be four, but she expected her father to show up when he said he would.
The police were still investigating the explosion. Initially there had been some suggestion of a potential gas leak. But she’d heard nothing else about the cause so far. She understood that the police couldn’t share details while they were investigating, but sometimes it almost felt as if she were a suspect. She shook her head. Of course she was a person of interest. One of the victims was her estranged husband.
Brenda tossed yesterday’s clothes and her nightshirt into the laundry basket before checking on Janey. Her little girl had recently discovered the world of Barbie and loved playing with the collection she’d received for her birthday last month. Her favorite was the Barbie with the purple hair. That day was the last really comfortable, actually nice time Brenda had shared with Scott. Just one week before the explosion.
She blinked away the memory. Their daughter looked so much like her father, with her coal-black hair and sky-blue eyes. His eyes were the first thing that had captured Brenda’s attention. She, on the other hand, had sandy-brown hair—not quite blond, not entirely brown—and brown eyes. Really dark brown eyes. Her little girl hadn’t inherited a single one of her physical characteristics. Maybe she would be tall and slim like her father too. Brenda had always struggled with her weight. At a mere five-three, it only took a few pounds to make a difference. Scott never failed to point out a single extra pound.
Not thinking about him.
Brenda wandered back to the kitchen and considered making a sandwich. She’d been so out of sorts at the airport after seeing that man she’d forgotten about coffee or breakfast. Then, on the plane, she hadn’t bothered with anything from the lunch menu. Maybe she would just go ahead and order the pizza she had promised Janey.
She pulled her cell phone from her pocket, and the doorbell rang.
Since she wasn’t expecting anyone, it was likely a salesperson. Living in such a walkable neighborhood, it was not uncommon to have solicitors popping by more frequently than perhaps in other areas. She didn’t mind most of the time. Scott had hated it. He made it a point to be rude to any stranger who showed up at their door.
Brenda chastised herself for thinking of him again. They’d been separated for nearly a year. It should be easier than this.
She peeked out a window to see who had stepped onto her porch. Detective Shelton. How strange. She’d just thought about calling him. Maybe there was news about the investigation. Three weeks seemed a fair amount of time to wait for news, but she really had no idea how long these things took. She did a good deal of research related to criminal investigations for her novels, but fiction wasn’t the same as real life. In fiction, all aspects of the plot had to work into a reasonable timeline. Though she tried to keep the details realistic, some things were far more interesting to the reader if the details weren’t so close to the real world. In any event, this wasn’t a criminal investigation.
She opened the door and manufactured a smile. “Detective Shelton, I was just thinking of calling you.” When he didn’t smile back, Brenda went on edge.
“May I come in, Ms. Devers?”
“Of course.” She opened the door wider in invitation. Once he was inside, she closed it, automatically turned the lock. Since her front door opened directly into her living room, she gestured to the sofa. “Please, make yourself at home.”
The detective had been here many times. He took his usual seat on the far end of the sofa. She chose the well-worn side chair. It was her favorite, with its pink-and-white gingham fabric. Something else Scott had disliked about this home—hershabby-chic style and the way she’d furnished it. How had she ever believed they had anything in common?
“Ms. Devers,” the detective began, “you’re aware that our investigation into the explosion has been ongoing.”
“Yes.” She nodded, hoping the whole thing was nearing completion. Not that she’d been overly involved in any aspect of what the police were doing, but it was just something else hanging over her head. Along with the insurance business and a million other little things she would love to get cleared up.
“As you know, we initially tried identifying the three victims of the explosion using dental records.”
“Yes, you explained this to me.” It occurred to her then that she should check to see that Janey was still playing in her room. “One moment, Detective.” She hurried into the little hall and peeked into her daughter’s room. Her little voice as she spoke for one of the dolls made Brenda smile. She returned to the living room. “Sorry. I just wanted to see that Janey was occupied.”
He nodded. “Of course. Anyway, since we weren’t able to locate the dentist Mr. Devers used in Nevada before moving to Alabama and the one you listed here in Huntsville had no record of him, we needed another way to confirm his identity. We had much the same issue with his partner.”
“Tate Jenner,” she said. Like Scott, Tate had no recent dental records. His wife insisted the man had perfect teeth and never saw a dentist while growing up and didn’t bother as an adult. Scott, on the other hand, deemed himself too busy to bother—at least he had since Brenda knew him.
“Yes. Since we needed to do DNA for an official identification of the partners, we decided to do it for the third victim as well. We didn’t have any way of officially identifying him and hoped that perhaps his or a relative’s DNA would show up in some database.”
Initially, the third person present during the explosion was tentatively identified by the third vehicle in the parking lot, but that wouldn’t make the cut as an official identification.
“You took samples from Janey and Trek.” Though Brenda hadn’t been concerned about Janey understanding the process, Lena, Tate’s wife, had really worried about Trek, her and Tate’s son. He was older and quite possibly understood exactly what was happening.
“The results are in,” Shelton said, “and we’ve confirmed the identity of Mr. Jenner and a second man, Clinton Pratt.”
Brenda nodded, but a buzzing had started in her ears. What was he saying?
