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CHAPTER 8
Ray and Sarah Michaud’s home, elegant without being lavish, was filled with books. Ray had taken great care, at considerable expense, to attain and display some fine volumes of inspired literature. The decor of the living room/study was rich with floor-length cherry wood book-cabinets. It was a warm room, backlit and serene. Sarah and Ray spent countless hours here.
Ray was the reader in the family. Often Sarah sat on the couch with a magazine or book, peeking over the top, admiring his intellect. This morning he wasn't there, and she was frantic. Seldom had he left the house without her knowledge of his whereabouts. She wasn't jealous or suspicious, she just knew that something was wrong. Well, she couldn't do any good sitting here worrying. Ray would call her at work when he got back, she knew that, so, why act like the hysterical wife?
The call she made to Luther was not much help, although he tried, bless his heart. He was a good friend, Ray’s best friend. Personally, she had never understood their relationship. Luther was snide and surly, the absolute antithesis of Ray. Maybe it was true that opposites attract, although she hoped that it didn't speak of their marriage.
As Sarah walked from the kitchen to the front vestibule, she stopped at the front closet to grab her windbreaker and gloves. Lying there, under the catchall table positioned before the outer door, was a folded piece of paper. Calmly, Sarah reached down and picked up the note, and opened it. The handwritten missive read:
‘Sweetie, don't wait supper on me. I'm going hunting with Luther, up by Mill Creek. He's spotted a nice buck, and he wants me to come with him. Probably needs some help carrying the carcass, ha ha... Anyway, I'll be home around 10 p.m. or so, if all goes well. If I'm going to be later than that, I'll call you. Don't worry, I'll be fine! Maybe we'll have fresh venison tomorrow night. If not, we'll just eat the humble pie that'll be all over my face for deserting you for an evening.
I love you!
Ray ‘
Then the flood gates opened. Sarah collapsed to the floor, screaming in terror and agony. She felt the world collapsing around her. Ray was gone, she just knew it. The emptiness she had been feeling as she sat up all night was not only fear. It was a hole in her heart, and only Ray could fill it.
After a while, as she lay on the floor, the moans of grief subsided, but she was forced to take in deep, cleansing breaths to remain conscious. Her survival instincts were taking over, even though her will to live was supplanted by the agony and realization she felt. What could she do? Who should she call? There was no way she would call Luther Pittman back. The note had said he was going with Luther, so why had the sheriff told her he didn't know where Ray was? She couldn't believe that Ray would lie to her. It just wasn't like him, he had too much character to risk their marriage for a one-night stand. Didn't he? Suddenly, a thought flashed through her mind. She remembered her mother telling her once, that the wife was the last to know. Daddy had strayed about once or twice a month, over a period of 10 years, according to her mother, so anything was possible. Maybe he was in some sleezy motel, wrestling with some blonde bimbo, and he had used Luther as his excuse. In some perverse way, this buoyed her a little, gave her hope.
As much as it pained her to think about Ray being with another woman, it was still better than the alternative she tried to erase from her mind. A plan of action had the effect of a slap across the face to get her attention. She would get in the car and check every motel in the county. If she didn't find him, she would go to the next county.
Sarah picked herself up from the floor, summoned all the courage she could muster, and walked over to her small writing desk. Calmly, she called her office and told them that she wasn't feeling well and wouldn't be in today. She decided to call Brenda, to get her take on things. Maybe Brenda could tell her who was lying; maybe not, but it beat doing nothing. Satisfied that this was a reasonable course of action, she paused, took a deep breath and punched the phone buttons that would connect her with Pittman Realty.
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