Verity was trying to tip me off my feet. That was what she did best. She disoriented people, tied their psychological shoelaces and tripped them. It was what she’d done to Evie and her brother. It was why Evie’d had such a strange idea of herself when I’d met her. Evie had zero faith in her own ideas and decisions. She was always second-guessing herself. I’d ask her for her opinion on something, and she’d give me an answer, but then two seconds later, she’d pull back and tell me she wasn’t sure. For a long time, I used to insist that she just make the damned decision. But I came to understand that when I made the decisions, she relaxed.
But I had to admit there was another side to Evie, one that didn’t match up with the girl who wanted other people to be in control. When we played Warcraft together, she was ruthless, making calculated moves and annihilating our opponents. She was razor sharp and clever at those times.
No wonder I hadn’t seen the day coming where she’d do what she’d just done. How far ahead had she planned this? And what was her end game? Did she plan on finding some rich guy and running off with him and never having to worry about money again? And what was the catalyst that made her decide that this was what she wanted and needed?
Anger started to burn in the pit of my stomach.
A loud knocking at the front door downstairs came thumping through the air.
Whoever it was, it wasn’t Evie.
Verity answered the door, and I could hear two people, a man and a woman. From what I’d known of her, she normally gave door-to-door salespeople their marching orders, but she let them in.
Hauling myself up from the bed, I walked out to the stair landing.
Two police officers stood in my living room quietly talking with a shocked Verity.
The three of them looked upwards at me, stopping their conversation.
The female officer wore a concerned expression. “Mr Harlow, we need to talk with you.”
“Sure.” Willow and Lilly watched me from the sofa as I walked down the stairs, their eyes round and unblinking.
“Your grandmother and I are going to have a little talk with the police, okay?” I told the girls. “We’ll just be out on the back verandah.”
I showed the police through. Whatever they had to say, I already knew I didn’t want the girls to hear it. I closed the door behind us as a further precaution.
“Okay, what’s going on?” I said finally.
Verity jumped in first. “Gray, this is Sergeant Moss and Sergeant Gallinger.” She indicated from the female cop to the male. “They’ve found Eveline’s car.”
“What?” My brain refused to compute that. Why had the police been looking for her car? Had Marla made a report that Evie was missing?
“Mr Harlow?” Sergeant Moss gave me a brief nod. “Your wife’s car was found in bushland about an hour away from here.”
“Bushland? Hell, don’t tell me she crashed the car? She wasn’t still in the car, right?” What weren’t they telling me? Why were they hesitating and half glancing towards each other?
“It wasn’t a crash,” the sergeant told me. “She wasn’t in the car. The car was deliberately driven into the forest then set on fire.”
I blew out a slow breath of relief. “So, the car was stolen? You don’t have any bad news about Evie?”
“No,” confirmed Sergeant Gallinger. “But we’d like to get a few details straight. We estimate that the car was dumped and burned yesterday. But we’ve had no report that the vehicle was stolen. And Eveline’s mother tells us that you’re not sure where she is.”
“Yeah, that’s right. She . . . went away for a few days.”
“And you’ve had no contact with her?”
“No.”
“Mr Harlow, is that usual behaviour from your wife? Not to be in contact?”
“No, it’s not the usual at all. Evie’s never done this before. She organised to leave our daughters with a friend, and she left a note to say she was going away—for a week or so.”
“Does the friend know where she is?”
“Nope, not according to her.”
“Just in case we don’t hear from Eveline, could I have the friend’s details?”
“Sure. Her name’s Marla Atkinson. Number 4 Brightfield Avenue. Just down the road near the 7/11.”
“Okay, got it.” Sergeant Gallinger cleared his throat, handing me a business card. “I understand. Well, we just wanted you to know about your wife’s car. Do inform us right away if Eveline—Evie—contacts you.”