Killing Me Softly (#Wattys2016)

THIRTY-FIVE

THIRTY-FIVE

He had spent hours practicing in front of the mirror. They always looked at the spouse first, so he had to be convincing when they questioned him. He had written down a list of questions they might ask him on a yellow legal pad and rehearsed his answers in front of his reflection.

"Mr. Pearson," he said aloud in a voice a good three octaves lower than his own. "When did you say the last time was that you spoke to your wife?"

Phillip took a deep breath and said in a shaky whisper, "Saturday. We talked Saturday."

"What'd you talk about?"

"Um, I don't know. I told her how the conference was going; I asked what she'd done that day. She told me she was going jogging and would call me when she got home."

Okay, good. Good tone, the definite sound of a worried husband who was still holding out hope that his wife would be found alive and well.

"Was that something she did often? Jogging, I mean. At night?"

Phillip cast his eyes down then looked back up at his likeness in the glass. "Sometimes on the weekends, yes. Not late at night. She works nights during the week. But occasionally she goes jogging on a Saturday evening before we go to dinner or a movie."

That was a lie, but no one would know any different.

"And the last time you talked to her, what was her mood?"

Phillip shrugged in confused disbelief. "She was fine. Her usual happy self. Tracy is a very upbeat person."

For good measure, he wrung his hands, but not too much. He didn't want to seem too nervous, tip them off that something was up. Just enough to seem worried, but not suspicious.

"What's her jogging route?"

"Usually down by the lake, right along Belmont Harbor, up to Oak Street Beach."

That was good. It wouldn't seem weird when she was found along the lakefront.

"Mr. Pearson, what was your marriage like?"

"God... we're basically still newlyweds... we're happy... happy... we have a good marriage..." Dissolve into tears, but don't overdo it. Don't want too seem phony. And refer to her in the present tense. That was key.

"Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt your wife?"

Give incredulous laughter. "God. No. Everyone loves Tracy."

Fight back the tears as you think about the fact that her life could be over. Wring hands some more.

"Please, you have to find her. It's cold and she could be hurt... hungry... alone. Please. Please find my wife."

Let his voice tremble ever so slightly on that last bit. Hold the gaze of the detective and then ask feebly if they were through; he wants to get back to passing out fliers around the neighborhood.

The detectives would give him a sympathetic smile and nod. Of course, they would say. We'll let you know if we have any more questions. He would put on a brave face and usher them out the door. The detectives would compare notes on his demeanor, check his alibi and determine that he had nothing to do with his wife's disappearance. Phillip straightened up and smiled.

This would be so easy.