conservative values, but I’m no longer a doormat.
“We married when we were seniors. I thought I was in love. Maybe I was, or I was in love with the idea of a perfect, attentive husband who honestly thought of every little thing I needed. Like one night I was terribly sick, and he sat up with me, wiping my face with a cold cloth to keep the fever down. He told me I was his angel.”
Hans asked, “What happened that changed him?”
“That’s the thing-nothing. He was always a-what did you say, Mr. Rogan? A sick, sadistic bastard. I just didn’t see it. For all his attention and thoughtfulness, he never let me out of his sight. I didn’t have any friends who weren’t also his friends, and the few friends we did have, I couldn’t see without him. I didn’t understand this at first.
“We moved to Wilmington after we graduated because he got a job teaching at the high school. I was so bored all day. There was only so much cooking and cleaning and baking I could do. I asked him if I could join a book club. I know what you’re thinking-why did I have to ask? But that’s how it was. He’d replaced my father in many ways. I always asked Daddy, but Daddy always said yes. He wanted me to go to college, to learn new things, to be able to take care of myself. Peter-he wanted to take care of me. He didn’t want me to have a life separate from him. That doesn’t sound right. It was more extreme. He wouldn’t
“I begged. It took me months of proving to him that the book club wouldn’t come between us. He met all the women, he probably did background checks of God-knows-what to make sure they were acceptable. Finally, I could participate. It was one night a week, Mondays.”
Sean asked, “He followed you, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” Marie said. “I didn’t know, but he’d sit outside whoever’s house we were meeting at and watch. I tried to get him to go out with the other women’s husbands-they always went to watch Monday Night Football or something at a bar. I really liked these people, but Peter refused. When I found out he was watching me, we got into our first fight. Two years after we were married, and we had never fought. Because I was so agreeable to everything, even his ridiculous rules. I just wanted to make my husband happy … but I realized Peter was nothing like my father, nothing like I thought he was.
“It took me months before I told the girls how Peter had started to scare me. And I only told them because of what he did …” her voice trailed off.
“What did he do, Marie?” Hans prompted after a moment.
“He read my copy of
“I asked my club to meet me for lunch the next day when Peter was working and they convinced me to leave him. I told them everything, it all came rushing out-like I wasn’t allowed to wear makeup outside the house unless he was with me. I could only wear dresses. About his obsession …”
When she didn’t continue, Hans asked, “What obsession?”
“Peter was my first. I was a virgin, and he liked that. My parents raised me to save myself for my husband, and Peter respected that. He never even tried before our wedding night.
“But after that night, he had me shower before we had sex. And after. And when we had sex, it was very mechanical-like he was a robot going through the motions. There was no affection. One time early in our marriage, I’d had wine with dinner. I rarely drink-two glasses made me tipsy. I tried to do something different in bed, something I’d read about-and he called me a whore.” Her voice cracked and emotion filled her voice. “He told me he’d tell my Daddy how dirty I was if I ever did anything like that again. I was so ashamed, so humiliated …”
Hans said, “Marie, you know that Peter is deeply disturbed. He enjoyed psychologically torturing women.”
“I don’t understand. You said that he’d kidnapped someone. But maybe she went willingly. He’s very persuasive.”
“She was kidnapped,” Sean said. “Do you know that he was in prison for rape?”
“Peter?” She sounded shocked.
Hans said, “Statutory rape. High school girls he taught.”
“Oh God, that’s so awful. I didn’t know. I cut all ties with everyone, even my book club.”
“Why did you change your name?” Dillon asked. “Did he threaten you?”
“I told him I wanted a divorce. My friends wouldn’t let me do it alone, they came with me, and he let me leave. I thought it was too easy, but that maybe he understood-but fortunately my friend Becca didn’t believe it. Her brother was a cop, and he let me stay with him. Separate bedrooms, there was nothing going on … then, anyway.
“I got a job as a secretary at the police station because of Jimmy, and felt safe for the first time in years. I didn’t hear from Peter for months. I had my attorney serve him the divorce papers. Peter walked into the police station the day after that with an envelope. He handed it to me, and said, ‘You are my wife. You will always be my wife, even though you are a filthy whore. Come home now, accept your punishment, and I will forgive you.’ ” She took a breath. “I didn’t go. He stared at me long enough to have six cops surround him. They escorted him out, and Jimmy told me I needed a restraining order.
“I opened the envelope. Inside, the divorce papers had been torn into tiny pieces. And there was a photograph of Jimmy giving me a hug. Peter had been spying on me. This had been the day my dad died-he’d been in a hospice for two years with cancer, and the director called me and said he’d died in his sleep. There was nothing sexual about that hug! Jimmy was just a nice guy!”
“Marie,” Hans said, “you don’t have to justify anything, understand? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I panicked. I said no restraining order was going to stop him. I don’t know why I was so scared, because Peter had never physically hurt me. But I knew he would kill me. I just knew.
“Jimmy helped me legally change my name and I moved to Arizona. I was so lonely. I had no family and had a hard time making friends. I called Jimmy after six months and he flew out, and that’s when we realized we cared about each other. He got a job in Austin as a police detective, and we got married a year later. I have two beautiful children, and I don’t want them hurt. Please, please-”
“Marie, Peter will never know. But we need to know where he’s keeping Lucy.”
“I don’t know. I’m telling the truth-I haven’t spoken to him since I left Wilmington.”
“We know that,” Sean said, “but he has no property under his name in Maryland, Delaware, or Virginia. We’re searching other states. We’ve tried his parents’ names, his grandparents-there’s nothing. He has to be somewhere. Maybe a friend? A cousin? A vacation house?”
“I don’t know …”
Dillon said, “It would be a place he felt safe, where he’d go or talk about when he was under stress. A place that reminded him of what was important to him. Very private. Secluded.”
“Like his great-grandmother’s farmhouse?”
“Yes,” Dillon said, leaning forward. “Where is it?”
“Warrenton. I was only there once-he took me when we graduated from college, on our way to Wilmington. We stayed a couple of days. No one lived there. It was in a trust because of some family dispute before Peter was even born. It was old and creepy, but Peter loved it. He said he was saving money to renovate the place and this was where we’d raise our family. I humored him because I didn’t think we’d ever live there.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know. In Warrenton, that’s all I remember.”
Sean asked, “What’s the trust’s name?”
“I don’t know.”
“His great-grandmother? Was she a Miller?”
“No, she was Adeline Harker.”
Sean started typing on his computer.
Hans said, “Marie, thank you. If you’re still concerned about your safety, have your husband call me. I’ll explain what’s going on. I give you my word: your ex-husband will never find you.”
“I hope you find her.”
“We will, thanks to you.”
Hans disconnected the call. Sean worked on the property search while Kate called Noah.
