Female NovelWho else was involved in this mess, Remington couldn't say for sure. But he was convinced Jerome had to know something. After all, Lizetta went missing from the dance troupe. Remington's gaze turned icy, and as time ticked by without any leads, his restlessness and frustration grew, igniting a fire within him that only burned fiercer.
"Mr. Dashiell, I'm truly sorry about Mrs. Dashiell's disappearance. I called the cops right away and made sure everyone in the troupe cooperated with your investigation. The show almost fell apart without her. Honestly, I was hoping you could tell me where your wife has gone off to."
Jerome caught Remington's hand as it clenched his collar.
Both men appeared calm, but their arm muscles strained against each other, veins bulging on the backs of their hands.
Just as the tension was about to erupt, Ray's voice cut through, "Mr. Dashiell, a letter for you. Seems like it's from your wife."
Remington abruptly let go of Jerome and turned to take the letter from Ray. The envelope bore Remington's name, unmistakably in Lizetta's handwriting.
"The letter was in a package sent from Zion City, addressed to you. Looks like Mrs. Dashiell mailed it from there, timing it just so," Ray mentioned as Remington tore open the envelope.
The letter was brief, a few lines on a single sheet of paper, but Remington read it slowly, his eyes darkening as if stained with blood. All of a sudden, he crumpled the letter in his fist and stormed out. "Take care, Mr. Dashiell," Jerome called out nonchalantly.
Remington paused, turning back. Jerome had resumed his seat behind the desk, straightening his rumpled shirt, his voice slightly chilled.
"Seems Mrs. Dashiell left on her own accord. Next time you visit, Mr. Dashiell, I'd expect more civility. This isn't the kind of place you can just barge into."
"If my wife is missing and you, Mr. Madden, played any part in it, I won't let it go!" Remington's eyes were icy, his presence almost menacing.
But Jerome just offered a faint smile, "Women leave when they feel insecure. Perhaps, Mr. Dashiell, you should look inward for reasons."
Remington's jaw clenched tight, his eyes looking as if fury brewed inside, a cold laugh escaping him.
"Florence always makes a scene, probably feels insecure too. Maybe you should get your own house in order first, Mr. Madden!"novelbin
With that, he left with his entourage.
Once in the car, Ray asked cautiously, "Mr. Dashiell, where to now?"
Remington leaned back, the brief letter still in his grip.
"Back to Zion City," he finally said, voice weary.
"Not looking anymore?" Ray sounded surprised.
Remington opened his eyes, "She must've left Summer City by now. Any traces here have been wiped clean. No point in looking."
But of course, the search would go on. There would be clues somewhere. He wouldn't give up!
As Ray drove off, instructing their team in Summer City to pull out, Remington looked down at the wrinkled letter, his hand trembling as he tried to crush it. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to do it and instead, unfolded it once more, his gaze falling on the few lines.
[Remington, leaving was my decision. Please, don't blame anyone. I'm just so tired, and net you've never been happy know wer.
A good marriage, a good love, it's m
about equals. But we are worlds apart, a mistake from the start.
You are like the moon, and I strain to reach you, thinking I'm close, yet it's all an illusion.
You always give me hope, and then leave me with disappointment And in that disappointment, I've learned to ET let go.
Withdrawing my dependence, taking back my tove, without love or hatred,
letting go might just be the best outcome for us. Even if it's with M regret, it's better than tormenting each other, drowning in tears.]
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