Free Misery Loves Company by Rene Gutteridge Page A

quirky to say the least.” The captain yawned. “Old men like me have to get to bed early. You take care of yourself, Chris. I’ll keep you updated on the progress we’re making on the search warrant.”
    Chris stepped out into the cold, feeling a little more assured that at least the captain believed there was something to look into. And it was nice not to sneak around anymore. He was afraid his theory that Reagan might be involved was going to get him laughed out of the state. It felt as kooky as it sounded coming off his tongue.
    He took out his phone and called the Lt. Colonel. Calling him at night seemed like the best time. He’d most likely be passed out and Chris could just leave him a message. He didn’t want to give him too much information, especially about Reagan. The last thing he needed was the Lt. Colonel hounding their most famous resident.
    He left a short message about the opening of an official investigation and tried to leave out as much detail as possible.
    Then he drove twelve miles to the cemetery where they’d buried Jason. It was over a hundred years old, with tall pines clustered on the five acres. Jason was buried in the northeast corner with the rest of his family, including great-grandparents. With no siblings and his parents dead, Jason had been the last living member of his immediate family.
    Chris shrugged under his heavy leather jacket, trying to stay warm. A brisk wind snapped and jumped through the trees and over the hills, lifting his hair and stinging his skin. Winter had arrived far too early this year.
    Above, the stars twinkled brightly away from the town’s lights, and a gentle light glowed down onto the grave site. Chris walked the unpaved path to the far side of the cemetery and easily found Jason’s headstone, shorter and squarer than the rest.
    He knelt beside it, reading the inscriptions about Jason: a loving husband, loyal friend, faithful officer. The grass was withering against the early cold, but it was thick and had grown in well.
    From his back pocket, Chris pulled a bent and worn picture out of his wallet. It was of Jules and Jason, their engagement photo. Chris had given him a hard time when he was handing them out, teasing that he’d been domesticated in the worst sort of way . . . downsized to a wallet picture.
    Jason took it all in stride. He laughed so much at himself that it was hard to give him a good ribbing because it seemed nothing really insulted him.
    Chris had taken the picture, vowing to do something with it, like a practical joke. But it ended up staying in his wallet, the only picture he carried there.
    He held it up a little to get a good look at it in the dim light. They were so happy; their eyes had an extra, magicalsparkle to them. But as far as Chris was concerned, Jules always had that look. The first time Jason brought her to O’Malley’s to meet the guys, Chris had found himself unable to stop staring at her. She was naturally beautiful and Chris wasn’t sure she was wearing any makeup. And her smile was wide but gentle, like she knew everything about you instantly and still liked you.
    She was quiet most of the time but had begun coming out of her shell the more comfortable she became with Jason’s friends, and Chris found she actually had a pretty good sense of humor when she wasn’t too shy to use it.
    He’d guarded himself from liking her too much, out of respect for Jason, but she became the woman that all other women were judged against in Chris’s book. And unfortunately for those women, they had a high standard to reach. None had, so far.
    Chris set the photo against the headstone and moved a nearby rock to hold it in place.
    “I’m going to bring her back,” Chris said as he stood. “I’m going to bring her home safely. If it’s the last thing I do.”

WHEN JULES AWOKE, the curtains were wide-open. The light filled the room so dramatically that she held her hand up to her eyes as if she were out at the beach with the