Finding Harmony (Katie & Annalise Book 3) by Pamela Fagan Hutchins

station today.
    So here I sat. I had filled out the Missing Person Report three hours ago, and no one had called me in for an interview. Tutein had not acknowledged my repeated requests to see him. Every second that passed was another lost second of search time for my husband.
    Damn.
    Kurt and I had combed the island looking for Nick all night long. I hung out the window with a flashlight, searching for signs of Nick’s Montero along the sides of the main roads between our house and town, but my beam barely penetrated the dark. Rashidi and Ava had organized searchers to cover the neighborhoods, even a contact in the Petro-Mex housing compound who would look there, and between all of us we’d blanketed the island, searching for any sign of his SUV in parking lots, driveways, roads, anywhere.
    Nothing.
    Except a painful dream in the few hours of sleep I caught before dawn, in which I chewed out my husband for not coming home on time. In my dream Nick said, “I wouldn’t ever choose to spend a night apart from you. Shame on you for thinking I would.”
    Ouch.
    Double damn.
    My phone rang. Julie.
    “Anything?” I answered.
    I could barely hear her over the scream of the baby across from me. “Kurt found Nick’s car. I don’t know why we didn’t think of this sooner. He parked it inside the hangar.” She paused. “The plane’s gone.”
    Oh. Oh, Nick. He’d left the island and told none of us. Baby, what have you done?
    “Katie, are you there?”
    “I’m here.”
    The officer behind reception finally called my name at that very moment. “Mrs. Kovacs, Detective Tutein will see you now.”
    I stood and moved toward her, juggling my purse and coffee while trying to keep my phone to my ear to hear Julie.
    “Kurt’s going to update me after he finds out more. He’s at the airport. I’ll call you as soon as I know something,” Julie said.
    The reception officer returned my sharp tone from earlier to me. “Mrs. Kovacs? You no longer wish to see Detective Tutein?” Hard to believe, coming from a public servant, but the woman chuptzed me. Very softly.
    I held up one pleading finger as I said, “Thank you, Julie. I’m heading in to meet with Detective Tutein now. I love you. Bye.” I clicked off.
    “My apologies. The call related to information about my missing husband. I am very eager to meet with Detective Tutein. Thank you, miss.”
    She lumbered to her feet. Fifty pounds too many would slow me down, too. In fact, it had, not too long ago. The officer’s extra poundage clung to her hips, thighs, and bosom, but there was no sign of a baby on board. Her uniform fought to hold her in. As she walked ahead of me with a roll-jerk-hesitate rhythm, her thighs swished against each other. We moved slowly. Achingly so.
    Several minutes later, after passing a number of interior offices and cubicle pods, we arrived at an office with an exterior wall. Big shot office. She knocked—tap tap—on the gunmetal gray door, then opened it without waiting for a response and stepped inside, blocking me from doing the same.
    “Mrs. Kovacs to see you, sir, about a missing person she believe related to one of your cases.”
    A bass voice so deep it vibrated my chest wall said, “Come.”
    “Thank you again,” I said to the retreating back of my escort. No response.
    I rubbed my wedding ring for courage and stepped into the office.
    The imposing charcoal-skinned figure standing before me would rattle most people. But the sight of Detective Tutein affected me in a singular way: I plummeted.
    He hated me. He positively radiated it from every pore.
    “Mrs. Kovacs,” he rumbled. “Sit.”
    I sat.
    “I believe we meet before,” he said.
    “Yes, sir, we have, when you came into my house looking for a phone. We spoke last night, too, and I believe you know my husband, Nick Kovacs.”
    “Yes,” he said, making the word shorter than three letters.
    “As I told you on our call, he’s disappeared. I filled out a Missing Person