Chapter 12

It was the hardest thing I’ve ever hard to do in my career, but I wouldn’t let anyone else contact Dave or tell him about his wife. I drove to his house. He was there and answered the door.

“Bill, what are you doing here?” he asked when he saw me. My face must have alerted him to the serious nature of my visit. “Is it Melissa? What’s happened? Is she alright?” His questions came flooding out, faster than I could track them.

“Dave, can we sit down?” I asked, gesturing inside. He stepped back and let me in.

“Sure, but where’s Melissa? Is she okay?”

We sat down in his formal living room. From its pristine state, I was sure it got as little regular use as ours. I took a deep breath. “Dave, there’s no easy way to tell you this. Melissa is dead.”

“What?” he fired back. “Don’t fuck around, Bill, this is serious.”

“I’m sorry, Dave, but it’s true. Her body was found a couple of hours ago.”

“That’s not possible! She went to Girl’s Night Out with Jude and the girls from yoga.” He jumped up and grabbed his cellphone. “I’ll call her. You’ll see. She’s fine.”

“Dave, she was positively ID’d. She had her bag with her, her driver’s license, plus,” I hesitated to tell him, but I pushed forward, “I saw her. It was Melissa.”

“There must be a mistake,” he said, dropping back into the chair. I got up and poured him a glass of bourbon. He took it with trembling hands, stared at it, then downed it in one gulp.

“You’re sure it was her?” he asked as I refilled his glass.

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe it. How?” Dave asked, “How did it happen? Was it an accident? Had she been drinking?”

I poured myself a glass and swallowed it, feeling the warmth of its familiar burn. “No,” I said, “We believe she was murdered.”

“Murdered? What the fuck are you talking about? Why? Who would have done that?” He stood again. I could tell he was about to snap. I put a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him.

“I’m sorry, Dave. You said she was supposed to be out with the girls, did she tell you where?”

Dave was staring into space. “Huh? I don’t know. Some new restaurant on the square in McKinney. Ask Jude; She was there.”

“Dave, Jude was with me. She said she hasn’t spoken to Melissa in weeks. Is there any chance Melissa was seeing someone?”

“No fucking way!” Dave shouted. “Where is she? I want to see her. I need to see my wife.”

I nodded. “I’ll take you to her. I have to ask; where were you all evening?” I felt ashamed to be playing cop with my friend, but it was my duty.

“Fuck you,” he said, looking at me with seething anger. “You think I had something to do with it?”

“No,” I said, “of course, not. But, in a murder, the spouses are always the first people suspected. Someone’s going to ask you. Better me than somebody else.”

Dave was crying. I could see the tears running down his cheeks. He didn’t bother to wipe them off. “I worked late. Got a pizza and came home. I’ve been here all evening, waiting on Melissa to get back. Oh, God!” He dropped to his knees. “She’s never coming back!” He let out a long, gut-wrenching wail that cut into my soul.