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He nods. “Invisible Man goggles.”

Fuck. I look over my shoulder at the detective and then have a small wave of relief when the lawyers are ushered though the front door. “He really is trying to pin it on me. But—” I look back to Bigmy. “It’s absurd, right? I mean, this is like Scooby-Doo villains planting clues. Right?”

“Mmmm.” The big man balks. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just a lot of circumstantial evidence that adds up to only one conclusion. You did something to her.”

“I was on the fucking couch all night.”

“You were the last one to see her.”

“She’s not dead! She’s been kidnapped by that freak who took her ten years ago.”

He shushes me with a hand. “I know that. Ray knows that. We all know that. But I’m just telling you, he’s setting you up. When a girl goes missing they always look at the boyfriend or husband first. You are their prime suspect and these clues he’s dropping will make it very difficult for the police to take our suspicions seriously.”

“So they’re not gonna look for her?”

“They’re gonna go with the most obvious choice and that’s you.”

“How long do you think she’s been gone?”

“All night and all morning. So twelve hours, I suppose.”

“Did they look for her phone?”

“We did,” the detective says from behind me. “And do you want to know where we found it, Mr. Asher?”

From the tone of his voice, no. I’m pretty sure I do not want to know where they found it.

“In a car parked two blocks over.”

“OK. So whose car is it?”

“Yours.”

“It’s not my car. I don’t even live here.”

“It’s a rental, taken out in your name last night.”

I’m just about to open my mouth to protest when my lawyers walk up. They are all tall, large, and menacing-looking in their black suits and briefcases. “No more questions,” the oldest one says. I do not know his name. I don’t have much occasion to meet with them in person. I’ve never been arrested in my life. I’ve never even been to court for a speeding ticket.

I do as I’m told. I get into the car, alone, and then the door slams closed and the driver takes off.

Ten minutes later I’m delivered to the underground parking garage of a hotel where Conner waits for me next to an open elevator.

“I’m being set up.”

“I know, V.”

“Grace is really missing.”

“Yes.”

“Please tell me you’ve got something.”

“I wish I could, but I don’t.”

This is a moment I will never forget. I thought that night in Vegas last week was my low. When my future with Grace seemed to be in the hands of a power-hungry businessman who likes to play God. But that was nothing. Li had no real power over me. It was a stupid bet.

But this. I shake my head and try and calm my nerves. This is real. He could hurt her. He could damage her psyche. He could kill her.

“I need to find her, Conner. I can’t let him have her for another night. I need to find her today.”

“We’re doing our best, V.” Conner waves me through the elevator doors and then he pushes a floor button and the doors close.

It’s an ominous feeling to be inside this box right now. It makes me feel helpless. And trapped. For the first time in my life my status has little meaning. For the first time in my life my money has little meaning. For the first time in my life I realize life is meaningless without the person you want to share it with.

The car takes us up to the tenth floor and we exit into a silent hallway. “We’re down here,” Conner says.

I follow him down the hall, my gaze trained on the pattern in the carpet, my heart heavy with despair, and my mind racing with regrets. Regrets for leaving her alone last night. For not camping outside her door. Regrets for marrying her when I knew she was drinking. Regrets for using my power over her in Saint Thomas to conquer her sexually. Regret for not being there for the last few weeks.

I might never get to set this right. I might never get a second chance. But if I do, I will make sure Grace Kinsella understands just how perfect and precious she really is. I will spend the rest of my life making her feel loved and safe.

Chapter Eight

“WE’LL have to take care of this.”

I swallow hard, my mind racing. I need to stop him from whatever it is he’s got planned. I need to stop his murderous thoughts. “I don’t believe in abortion,” I try first.

“I do,” he says back flatly. “I do. Especially when my wife was raped. Abortion is just and righteous when a woman is raped.”

I try to see the traps he’s laying. He wants to insist I was raped. OK. That’s his reality and I’m not sure I can change that. And I probably need him to believe that so he will not accuse me of cheating. Because I’m pretty sure cheating is an offense worthy of retaliation.

The last time I was his prisoner he let me know which acts of rebellion would earn me a beating. Sex was never discussed. But he talked a lot about what kind of clothes I could wear. He talked a lot about “asking for it” if I were to wear things that are too revealing.