James didn’t need his phone call, because thankfully Evan was at his house when the arrest was made, and as James was being pushed into the back of the police cruiser, Evan told him that he’d get a criminal attorney that he knew to the courthouse for the arraignment, and to wait. To not talk, and to wait.
So, he didn’t talk. Not when Solomon pulled him in a room and asked him questions about Rosita, or when he tossed postmortem pictures of her in front of him on the table. He didn’t say a word. Solomon wasn’t amused and threw his ass in a cell.
He waited.
He sat in a cell—a fucking jail cell—overnight, while the cops played goddamn TV detectives with a chip on their shoulder, trying to pin anything on the husband. All of this was a distraction, and it was taking away from the real issue: Tessa was missing, and what the fuck were they doing to try to find her?
He’d failed. He couldn’t protect her. Instead, he was rotting in a jail cell for a murder he didn’t commit, while someone was probably hurting his wife. Where are you, Tessa?
“Montgomery!” A cop shouted his name and he rose onto wobbly legs. “Time for your arraignment.”
When James was led to the courtroom, he had mere minutes to consult with Robert Brown, the attorney that Evan had procured for him. James’s mood lifted, because this man looked like a champion, from his custom navy suit to his shiny red pocket square. He was about Evan’s age, and James assumed they were law school buddies or colleagues. They shook hands—another win. Robert’s paw engulfed James’s hand and pumped firmly twice, never breaking eye contact. He exuded confidence, something James was sorely lacking at this stage of the game.
“Hello, Mr. Montgomery. I’m Robert Brown. Evan filled me in, and I’ve talked to the DA. Obviously, say nothing except ‘not guilty’ when the judge addresses you. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Thanks, Mr. Brown.”
“Robert, please call me Robert,” he corrected.
“Robert. I didn’t do this. I didn’t kill her. I never went near Rosita.”
Saying her name out loud reminded James that he’d barely thought about the fact that Rosita was actually dead—all he’d thought about was that he was being blamed, and his mind had been engrossed with Tessa’s disappearance. Rosita had issues, sure, but Good Lord, they were friends and he didn’t want her dead.
They were called quickly, and the judge read the charges, which still sent a shiver up and down James’s spine. Murder in the first degree. James abided by Robert’s rules and only said not guilty even though a speech burned at the tip of his tongue as the rage of such a certain mistake ate apart his insides.
Robert went on to plead for bail, mentioning that James was an upstanding citizen who’d spent most of his life in the county, being born and raised here, and that he was a pillar of the community, the manager of the town’s local bank, and didn’t have as much as a speeding ticket.
The judge was not amused but took it all into account.
“Bail is set at two-hundred-fifty-thousand dollars. If met your client will be fitted with an ankle monitor and placed on house arrest until a trial date can be set.”
The gavel pounded on the desk, and that was that. A quarter of a million and quarantined at home for however long. While Tessa was out there somewhere, and the cops weren’t doing shit to find her, and now he was completely helpless.
“Hang tight,” Evan said from a row behind him. “I’ll have you out of here in no time. And just so you know, I went over this morning to walk and feed Candy, so she’s good.” He looked at James’s new attorney. “Thanks, Robert.”
Robert winked and made a little gun shape with his hand toward Evan’s direction and double clacked his mouth, a gesture that told James they were old college or law school buddies. Colleagues without history didn’t act like that in open court.
It took two hours for James to be released. He was handed his clothes and his plastic bag of personal effects and immediately slid his wedding ring back on. He put on his street clothes—something he never thought he’d have to call them—and braced for the shitstorm he knew would be outside.
Evan waited for him in the front.
“Robert had to go,” Evan said. “He’s working another case that needed attention, but he’ll serve you well. I’ve known him a long time.”
“Great. Thanks. I really can’t thank you enough.”
Evan placed an arm around James’s shoulder. “Come on, man. We’ve been friends since sixth grade. I wouldn’t leave you hanging.” He cleared his throat. “Neither would my parents. I secured bond because they put up their house as collateral.”
Of course Mr. and Mrs. Soderberg did that for him.
“Oh, Jesus, Evan. Can we call them so I can thank them?”
Evan nodded toward the door, where reporters were gathered. “Let’s get you out of here safely first. It’s a mess out there.”
James blew a puff of air from his mouth. “Terrific.”
“Just walk with me to my car. Don’t say a word. James, they’re going to try to antagonize you, like they did at your house a few days ago. Don’t engage. Please,” Evan begged.
James knew he had to heed Evan’s advice this time.
His head low, James walked through the open door that Evan held with his right arm and quickly made his way down the steps. The questions and accusations flew, like he knew they would. “Did you also kill your wife?” “Were you having an affair with Rosita Morales?” “Where did you get the gun?” “Did you kill Jane Doe?” “Where’s Tessa’s body?” Over and over. Carina Killhorn’s raspy voice was a decibel louder than everyone else’s, or maybe James just heard it clearer because he hated her so much. How dare she call his parents and upset his ailing mother? He lifted his head and was about to go back at her but pushed the feeling down. Listen to Evan.
“Did she put up a fight or did you shoot her in cold blood?” Carina shouted.
James’s blood fizzed so much in his body he was sure it was carbonated by then.
“Keep walking,” Evan said reading his mind. “Excuse me. Excuse me!” he shouted as they went past the throngs of reporters, who kept hurling accusations even as James sat in the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt.
Evan pulled out slowly, careful not to hit anyone, even though secretly James hoped his friend would roll his tires over one of Carina’s pointy-toed heels.
“Well. That was a first,” Evan said with a chuckle, trying to lighten the seriousness of the mood.
He sniffled and wiped his nose on his left arm. “Rosita is dead.” The floodgates in his eyes opened up like a dam. Too many innocent women dead, and James was terrified that Tessa would turn up next. “Why aren’t they looking for Tessa? Why are they wasting time with this bullshit?” He pounded a fist on the dashboard.
Evan squeezed his shoulder from the driver’s seat. “I know, man. I’m sorry.” He lowered the radio. “We’ll stop at my parents for a few minutes, then I have to get you home. They’re coming to fit you for the ankle monitor.”
Evan’s mother waited at the door. She opened the screen as they walked up the driveway and immediately took James in her arms.
“Oh, darling, get inside,” she said, and ushered them both in.
“We don’t have long, Mom,” Evan said, pointing to James’s ankle. “They’re coming today.”
Mrs. Soderberg made coffee and the three of them sat sullen at the round kitchen table. Mr. Soderberg was out practicing his golf swing.
“Thank you, Mrs. Soderberg,” James said, savoring his last social gathering until God only knew when. He hoped he’d never have to talk to anyone through glass. “I don’t even know what to say.”
She placed her hand on top of his. “Now, now. Don’t you worry about a thing. It’s a misunderstanding. We know you didn’t murder anyone. And they’ll find Tessa. She was so lovely,” she said, biting the corner of her lower lip. “She is so lovely. I can’t believe they think you would hurt your wife or murder that girl.�
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“They found a gun in my house. It wasn’t mine. I’m being set up. Something strange is going on, and I want to find out what it is.”
“A gun? Oh, dear. Guns everywhere. We tried to talk Evan out of getting a gun, but you know this one, once he sets his mind to something…” She waved toward Evan.
James’s face went blank when he looked at his best friend after finding out this brand-new information. “When did you get a gun?”
Evan rubbed his beard, then the back of his neck. “Years ago.”
“Why?”
Evan shrugged. “I was in my midtwenties. Lived right by campus with a roommate who seemed a little shifty to me. I think he was dealing. He had people coming in and out all hours of the night. I saw one of them strapped once. Better safe than sorry. There’s nothing wrong with protecting yourself. It’s not like I ever pulled it on anyone. It’s under lock and key in a safe in my condo now. Hopefully I’ll never need to use it.”
Mrs. Soderberg shook her head. “Those damn things. You’re going to shoot your eye out, kid,” she said, mocking A Christmas Story, as she rose to wash out the coffee pot in the sink.
With the water running, James was able to disguise his tone. “Evan, man, I think I’m in some real trouble. Look, I never told you, but I had a gun. It wasn’t legal. It’s gone now, though. I got rid of it last week. But someone knew about it.” He paused. It wasn’t just that Tessa had told Gwen—he’d pulled it on Damon. He still didn’t regret scaring the ever-living shit out of that prick. “Two people knew. It’s a mess.”
“Crap. Why didn’t you tell me?” Evan’s face scrunched up, and he pulled out his cell phone and began texting. “Let me see what time Robert can get to your house.”
Robert told Evan he’d be over after the workday, around eight at night. Evan drove James home in the afternoon, all the way to the top of the driveway where James quickly punched the code into the keypad and ran inside. The reporters didn’t move past the sidewalk in front of his house, but they shouted the whole time. A missing wife and a murdered coworker were huge news in suburbia.
When he opened the door that connected the garage to the laundry room, Candy was waiting on her bed, and jumped up with excitement, wiggling her little butt until James bent down and scratched her behind the ears.
“Hey, girl. I know Uncle Evan came and saw you this morning.” He petted her soft head, and her eyes questioned him as she looked at the door and then back to him. “I’m sorry, girl. Mommy isn’t coming home yet. I swear I’ll find her.” Her ears stirred at the mention of “Mommy” and James cried again. Right there in a ball, on his laundry room floor, where Candy licked his tears, then settled in beside him. His companion.
James only rose from the floor when the ankle monitor company came and slapped it on. They wired his property and read him the rules. It was tight and the skin around it already itched. He needed to get his mind off the fact that he couldn’t leave to look for Tessa, and against his better judgment, turned on the computer to see the headlines.
LOCAL MAN WITH MISSING WIFE, JAMES MONTGOMERY, ALLEGEDLY COMMITS MURDER
WHERE IS TESSA AND WHAT DID SHE KNOW?
ALLEGED WORKPLACE AFFAIR ENDS IN HOMICIDE
Right as he was about to wipe the entire desk clear with his forearm, sending everything to the floor, his cell phone rang. When he retrieved it from his pocket, he didn’t recognize the number, and sent it to voice mail. Likely another vulture.
A minute later, there was a beep, indicating a message. Like a sadist, he hit play.
“Hello, this message is for James Montgomery. My name is Bella Johnson, and I’m a new reporter at the Valley Lake Blaze. I don’t agree with your portrayal in the media. I don’t think you are responsible for your missing wife, or for murdering your coworker. I’d like an interview to get your side of the story, without the venom attached. If you’re interested, please call me back.”
She left a number, which James jotted down. He’d have to speak to Robert about this tonight. Was it possible that someone was on his side?
When Robert got there at eight on the dot, James offered him a beer but he declined, so James opened one for himself. He grabbed a frozen mug from the freezer and winced. Tessa. At the kitchen table, Robert had James’s charges and release forms spread out on the table, and a yellow legal pad in front of him, which he tapped with his expensive-looking pen.
“Okay. Go,” Robert said.
“Well, here’s the quick background. Tessa—”
“I don’t want quick, James. I need to know everything.”
“So do I.” James pinched the top of his nose. “I wish I knew more about Tessa. We only knew each other two weeks before we got married.” He paused, and noticed Robert’s eyebrows go up, but he didn’t say anything, just kept writing on his pad. “She was out with my roommate the night I met her, and thank God I got home and was able to—”
“What does this have to do with an illegal gun?”
Direct. “Well, I’m getting there. I got home early and Damon—my old roommate—had her pinned to the ground. He hit her. He was going to rape her, and I got there in time to stop him. He was a bad dude. She wouldn’t press charges, which I know a little bit now is because of her past. She was running from an abusive ex-husband and didn’t want to be found. I’m not even sure Tessa Smyth was her real name. She had a state ID card with her Social on it, so she got that somehow, and I didn’t really question it. I know—I should’ve. But I was in love.”
“And the gun?”
“Right. She always feared that the ex was after her, so I got a gun. I knew a guy who knew a guy and I’ll never say any more than that. When I told her, she told me she hated guns and to get rid of it. So, I did. Mostly. I got it out of the house. I had it in my glove compartment, and then I saw Damon the night she went missing. Me, and my boss Trey, and Rosita—God, Rosita—we were out cultivating a client at Jupiter’s, and I saw Damon there, hassling a girl. My blood ran cold, man. I wasn’t thinking. He followed her out and I thought he was going to try the same shit, so I grabbed the gun, and I was right. Saw him pinning her in an alley. I put the fear of God in him.”
“How, exactly?”
“I—I held the gun to his head.”
Robert’s eyes lifted from the pad, but not his head. “Well, this isn’t good, James.”
“I know. But I obviously didn’t kill him. The girl got away, thank God, and I hit Damon over the head with the gun. But now that this is all out—he knows I had a gun. And I threatened him.” James slammed a fist onto the table, making his glass of beer rattle. “And while the fucking press will say that’s reason to believe I killed Rosita, I think it’s a reason to say Damon wanted revenge and did something to Tessa. Why can’t they find her?”
“Damon. What’s his last name?”
“Damon Moretti. I lived with him for almost a year. Mostly stayed at my ex Joanna’s house an hour up north. Damon gave me the creeps, the way he always brought girls around. Never saw anyone more than once or twice. Probably because he date-raped everyone.”
“Let’s not speculate here, James,” Robert said as he dropped the pen. “This was all the night Tessa disappeared. This isn’t going to look good. Now that you were arrested and your name is out there, this Damon may have already contacted the police with the information about the gun. If he hasn’t—yet—me putting his name out there as a potential suspect for Tessa is going to open a can of worms. They’ll say you were violent, in a rage, had an illegal gun on your person that night, and then your wife disappeared, and your coworker who everyone thinks you’re having an affair with was found dead days later by a gunshot. They found the gun in your house during the search, James.”
His shoulders sagged. “That wasn’t my gun.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t prove that.”
“Yes, we can. I know where my gun is. I hid it. It was nowhere near my house. No one knows where I put it.”
“That proves nothing.” It was
a statement, not a question, and James was afraid that Robert was starting to doubt him. “How would anyone know you didn’t have two? Or five? When did you hide it, exactly?”
“Last Saturday.”
“After Tessa went missing, then?”
James didn’t know what he was getting at. “Tell them to do their fucking jobs and find my wife.”
“James, listen,” Robert started. “My job here isn’t to presume guilt or innocence. My job is to defend you within the confines of the law.”
He didn’t understand that James didn’t do any of it.
Robert made a note in his legal pad and cleared his throat. “So, let’s talk real then. You said you don’t even know if that was your wife’s real name. How do you know she wasn’t running a racket on you?”
“A racket?”
“Girl’s running from her past. Fake name. Says someone is after her. What if she was working with someone to set you up? And then she took off?”
James pounded his fist again. “What would she get out of setting me up? What does someone get out of Rosita being dead?”
“I don’t know those answers, James. I’m just saying, you not knowing about your wife’s past isn’t going to help you.”
James sat silent, and then brought up the message from earlier. “I got a message from someone named Bella Johnson. A reporter. She doesn’t believe I did this. Can we get ahead of this?”
“Who? Where is she from?”
James played the message on speakerphone for Robert, and he listened with intensity.
“Okay,” Robert said. “One opinion is one opinion, but if it puts another story out there, it can’t hurt. I want to be here when she interviews you.” Robert looked in his phone’s calendar and tapped a few buttons. “Call her back. Find out if she can get here at nine-thirty tomorrow morning.”
Finding Tessa Page 18
