Who Killed My Husband? Read Free Page B

He smashed his glasses back onto his face and began rifling through the papers again. His heart was racing and his fingers fumbled.
     
    He found Darren’s file. His full name stared up at Jack, at the very top of the page: Darren Robert Jones.
     
    According to the file, Darren worked several towns over from where he lived--approximately a 50 minute drive. Most would not consider this a terribly long commute, but Rochelle had mentioned to Jack how her husband hated his job and the drive it took to get there. Yet he often would stay out there overnight or come home late at night, something she always found curious but didn’t dwell on.
     
    Now Jack was dwelling on it. What if there was some significance to this town, in Darren’s eyes? Something he’d be willing to “die” for?
     
    It took one simple search to find what Jack was looking for. Within minutes Jack had found evidence of a man named Robert Jones living in the very town Darren worked in. He had the same birth date and everything. If this man was in fact Darren, he really hadn’t tried hard enough to disguise himself.
     
    Jack set out to find the mysterious Robert Jones within the hour. He’d been hoping to be home by 8, but now that was out of the question. He sped down the highway, tapping his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel.
     
    It took longer than 50 minutes to arrive due to traffic, but finally Jack found himself pulling onto the street his search had indicated Robert Jones lived on. He rolled slowly down the street, peering out his window until he found the house he was looking for.
     
    Jack parked across the street and emerged from his car, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous. What if he was wrong? What if Robert Jones had nothing to do with Darren Jones? What if this were some strange sort of coincidence?
     
    Shaking his head to clear his mind, Jack strode across the street, removing his badge from his jacket pocket so as to have it ready. A motion sensor light came to life as he walked up the driveway, bathing the front yard in light. Jack flinched but continued on.
     
    As soon as he knocked, a dog started barking hysterically beyond the door. Someone shushed the dog before cracking the door open. It was a woman.
     
    “Can I help you?” she asked cautiously. It was hard to see her in the dim light, but she appeared to have light hair and skin.
     
    “Detective Jack Blanks,” he said, holding his badge up close to the door. She squinted against the darkness. “Who am I speaking with?”
     
    “Jackie Jones,” the woman said, looking Jack up and down with a critical eye.
     
    “May I speak to a Mr. Robert Jones?”
     
    “My husband just got home from work. He’s had a long day. Can this wait until the morning?” The woman closed the door further, so that Jack could only see a sliver of her body and the hallway light shining from behind her.
     
    “I’m afraid not. It’s urgent that I speak to your husband immediately.” Jack shook off the feeling of unease he was still carrying on his shoulders. He was on the right track, he could feel it.
     
    With a sigh of frustration, the woman retreated from the doorway, shutting it in Jack’s face. Moments later Jack heard elevated voices from inside the house, although he couldn’t make out the words.
     
    Jack leaned sideways, craning his neck to peer in through the front window. It sounded like that’s where the voices were coming from. It appeared to be the living room. A couch and two armchairs were arranged against the far wall, pointing towards the television which was closer to the window. Right in front of the couch, arguing vehemently, were Jackie and a man.
     
    The man had his back to the window. He wore a dark gray shirt and dark jeans. A towel was slung over his right shoulder, shifting up and down as he gesticulated wildly. The woman was facing the window but didn’t seem to have noticed Jack yet.
     
    The man turned his head sideways and pointed at something off