Yours Truly—Chapter 12

Note: Chapter 11 was inappropriate for Vocal. You can, however, purchase the whole novella on Amazon KDP as an eBook if you wish. I always appreciate the support!

The next evening, Tom Harris sat on a kitchen chair eating scrambled eggs and reading the Saturday paper. There was yet another story about the letter killer, yet there was no useful information. Nothing that would be remotely useful to the case.

This is killing me. Where is my wife? What on earth is WRONG with this man?! He’s a monster: killing people’s family members and then giving them false hope that they’re still alive.

He scurries to the post office and then unlocks his P.O. Box. Another letter. Keenly, he examines the envelope for a return address. This time, there is one. He opens the letter and stuffs the envelope in his pocket after carefully folding it to ensure that the return address is appropriately visible.

He reads the letter:

I’m watching you. Your wife is with me. Forever.

A chill runs down his spine and the hairs on his neck stand up.

“Does he mean she’s dead?! I have to go to Paris. Now.”

Tom Harris decides he’s going to board the plane. He can’t worry about work anymore. He knows where he’s going now, so he won’t be wasting his time stumbling around Paris for weeks.

He immediately calls Sarah Gunderson. “Hi. I’ve got a lead on the case. I have the letter killer’s return address. Anyway, I’ve gotta go. Bye.”

He hung up and his phone immediately buzzed with a text.

“Send it to me. Now.”

He did.

He quickly emails all of his coworkers and his supervisor.

“I have to go. I have the address of the man who may have kidnapped my wife, and possibly killed her. I have accrued time off, and if this isn’t the definition of an emergency, I don’t know what is. Thank you for your understanding. I will be back as soon as I can.”

“Understood,” his supervisor immediately wrote back.

Tom Harris packed his bags and ran to his vehicle after quickly searching for a flight and getting the most expensive one with first class seats—because he could. Plus, he needed to be comfortable. He had enough psychological turmoil going on, after all. He didn’t need to deal with business class or economy right now, adding to his already hellish life.

As he’s boarding the plane, a thought crosses Harris’ mind.

What if the bastard gave me the wrong address? What if he’s trying to lead me astray? Lead me down a false trail. Maybe he has my wife and he doesn’t want me to find her, so he’s getting a kick out of causing me all of this stress, heartache, and psychological torment. He wants me to hurt. Maybe this is someone I did something to.

He racked his brains. Tom Harris had always been a relatively good person, though he was obnoxiously obsessed with success. He was competitive, but he’d never hurt anyone, physically or otherwise, except Todd, of course, but that was because the guy was being a sexist little shit. He wasn’t a bully. He was simply on top of his game, constantly, whether people liked it or not.

What if Lucille’s so pissed with me she set this whole thing up just to get back at me? What if she’s not even with the letter killer? What if she just wants me to chase her around Paris to torment me for not signing that stupid fucking postnup she keeps going on about? No. No. That would be low, even for her. If she’s done this, she isn’t the woman I married. If she’s not going to get a divorce, I will. I swear. She’s gone too far this time. Too far. No. No. She wouldn’t do that. It’s the fucking letter killer. I just hope he has ONE honest bone in his body. After all he put me through.

His heart sank.

What if all of this is to show me my wife’s dead body, just to rub salt in the already gaping wound? What if Lucille Harris is already dead?