*Michael*

"I didn't have anything to do with your wife going missing, but I'm afraid I might know who is responsible,” Lucas’ voice rang out.

The room was thick with tension, and he stood before me—a portrait of guilt and trepidation. I could feel the cords of my neck straining as I fixed him with a glare that could wilt a rose.

"Lucas,” I said, as calmly as possible. “I need you to tell me what the hell is going on."

He stammered over his sentence, and ...