Chapter 87 The Wife—Tara
The Wife—Tara
“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Chase yells, his face inches from mine. I take my time answering, enjoying the look of fear in that bitch’s eyes.
I give Chase a bored look. “He took off on his bike. He said he needed to get some air. He was upset about all this trial stuff. He’ll be home later, and I’ll have him call you. For now, get the hell out of here.”
I don’t tell them the truth. That the little sneak snuck out.
I went to check on him half an hour ago, and he wasn’t in his room.
I went to the garage and saw that his bike was gone.
I finished packing his suitcase, and I’ll be picking him up as soon as these two get out of here.
The air tag under his bike seat keeps me posted on his every move.
He’s at a park a few miles from here. Maybe he went there to cool off or to meet a friend.
It doesn’t matter. His ass is getting on that plane with me.
The two of them look at each other, and I see red. Already coconspirators? Let’s see how long she waits for him once he’s given a prison sentence.
“What are you waiting—”
My words are cut off by the sound of a police siren. What’s going on? The car stops in front of the house, and two men get out and walk toward us.
“Mrs. Tara Sommers?”
“It’s Tara Winters,” I correct him.
“Winters,” he corrects himself. “You’re under arrest for the hit-and-run of Scarlett Reynolds.”
What is this fool talking about? “My husband did that. Not me!”
“Also, for perjury and making a false report to law enforcement. Please put your hands behind your back.”
He slaps handcuffs on me. Annabelle comes toward me, her eyes narrowed. “We know it was you. You tried to kill my child and then frame Chase. You’re a psychopath!”
How did they know? Someone is going to pay.