Chapter 69
LUCY
The more I thought about having a few donuts, the more I thought it wasn’t a very good idea.
Sure, coffee and donuts at midnight had a certain appeal, like I was back in college and studying for midterms. But I was no longer twenty-one, and these days, if I had a donut or two at midnight, my stomach wasn’t my best friend come the following morning.
I didn’t start the trial until Monday, but I planned on preparing all weekend, and an upset stomach tomorrow morning might not be advisable.
Still, Eddie had volunteered to go to Safeway for me. The least I could do was have one. I’d cut myself off after that.
Eddie had been very polite over the last several days. It’s almost like he knew what I had planned. Even though that was impossible, wasn’t it?
For me, it was too little, too late. In fact, it kind of weirdly worked against him. It helped show what he could have been. A thoughtful, concerned husband. Instead, he’d developed into an indifferent husband, maybe the worst thing of all.
And a few days of him actually being immersed in our marriage weren’t enough to overcome the first ten months. Especially since I guessed that this was all for show.
He had been nice with the donuts, though. I would eat at least one.
But no more than one, Lucy!
I started to get worried when Eddie wasn’t back by 12:30 a.m.
Weird, right?
A woman with plans on divorcing her husband in less than two days is now worried about him. Eddie had been flaky before, without question. But he wouldn’t leave late at night and then never return. This was definitely out of character.
I tried calling him twice, but he didn’t answer. I sent him a text.
“Are you still at Safeway? I’m starting to get a little worried.”
He didn’t respond to that, either.
I wasn’t able to tell if he’d read the text.
Despite my misgivings, Eddie had disabled that through his settings.
It had started one of our bigger fights.
He said it’s because he didn’t want his clients to know he’d read their texts.
If so, they could use that against him if he didn’t get back to them right away.
It made sense, but I was his damn wife. I should have been able to tell if he’d read one of my texts.
Now more than ever.
At one a.m., I called two more times and sent one more text.
“You’re scaring me, Eddie. Where are you?”
Still nothing, and that’s the first time I considered calling the cops. I decided to wait a little longer. There had to be some explanation.
Usually, this is something I’d tell my parents, but I certainly wasn’t going to bother them at one a.m. They were fast asleep up in Tahoe.
At 1:30, I tried calling him one more time. Nothing.
It had now been two and a half hours since he’d left for Safeway.
Was it time to call the cops? I’d always heard they don’t look for missing persons until twenty-four hours have passed, but this was different. He wasn’t a runaway.
I was afraid he’d crashed his car into a ditch, or maybe had somehow got into a case of road rage with another driver.
Eddie didn’t own a gun, but maybe the other driver did.
What are you talking about, Lucy? Road rage at midnight?
My mind was all over the place.
I could call a few of the hospitals in the area.
I decided I’d wait till two, and if I still hadn’t heard anything, I’d call the police.
“Los Angeles Police Department.”
Two had passed without any call or text from Eddie.
“Hello, my husband went out for donuts at eleven p.m. and hasn’t come back.”
“He went out for donuts at eleven p.m.?” The man’s voice had a tinge of sarcasm, but I almost couldn’t blame him. It did sound weird when he repeated it back to me.
“Yeah. And he should have been home over two hours ago.”
“What’s your name?”
“Lucy Sykes, and my husband’s name is Eddie.”
“And I’m assuming you’ve tried calling him.”
“Yes. Texting too. He hasn’t responded to anything.”
“Could he have gone to a friend’s?”
“Not likely at midnight.”
I said this, knowing that he had been out at odd hours of the night recently.
“Not likely, but not impossible?”
“Well, nothing is impossible, but I highly doubt it.”
“Have you tried calling the California Highway Patrol to see if he might have been involved in an accident?”
“He would have been taking side streets. The CHP has nothing to do with that.”
“I’m aware of that, Mrs. Sykes.”
Are you freaking kidding me?
This could not have been going any worse.
“What would you suggest?”
“You could call some local hospitals.”
“There’s nothing you can do?”
“I’m sorry, but if we went after every husband who was two hours late in coming home, we’d never get anything done.”
He was right, of course.
“Maybe he found his way to a bar, and he’s headed home now,” the man suggested. “Or maybe he went to a casino, and he’s playing poker.”
I rarely got mad, but this had my blood boiling. This guy was beyond useless.
“You’ve been a tremendous help,” I said, and hung up.
I called the two closest hospitals to me, and neither had any record of an Eddie Sykes being admitted.
What else could I do? Not much until morning.
I could text a friend or two of his, but it was now almost 2:30 in the morning.
I decided I’d give Eddie the benefit of the doubt and not do anything else until the morning. It’s not like I had much of a choice, anyway.
I was woken up the next morning by a knock at the door.
I looked down at my watch. It was 7:15.
How the hell had I slept in so long?
I had been up until almost three, and I was exhausted from preparing for the trial. Still, my husband hadn’t come home. I should have been up at the crack of dawn.
On the bright side, it had to be Eddie at the door. Maybe he went out drinking, got drunk, lost his keys, and spent the night at a friend’s. He sure had some apologizing to do.
I approached the door. “One second, Eddie.”
I opened the door, and much to my dismay, it wasn’t Eddie. It was the LAPD. There was a woman and a man, both seemingly a few years older than me.
“How can I help you?” I asked.
“Are you Lucy Sykes?” the woman asked.
“I am.”
“And Eddie Sykes is your husband?”
My heart started to sink.
“Yes.”
“We’re afraid that something has happened to your husband.”
“Oh, no. Like what? A car accident?” I probably sounded overly na?ve, but that’s all I could think of.
“No, it’s not a car accident,” the woman said. She’d done all the talking. I wondered if that was protocol when talking to another woman.
“Well, then what?”
“Your husband has been the victim of a homicide.”
It took me a second to realize she’d said homicide. “He’s been murdered?”
“Yes, Mrs. Sykes.”
“How? Where?”
“Would you mind coming with us?” she asked.
I was in disbelief. “Come where?”
“To the police station with us.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Sykes.”
I remember thinking in the moment that I wasn’t going to be Mrs. Sykes for very much longer. And I was right, but not for the reason I’d originally planned.
It wasn’t going to be because I’d divorced Eddie. It was going to be because someone had killed him.
If he were truly dead, I would feel horrible. I mean, he was my husband.
But I was having a difficult time processing everything.
Mostly, I just felt numb.
None of the previous night nor this morning had felt real.