It felt like a punch to the gut.

“That’s crazy,” I said. “Jan knew why we were going up there. Whoever told you that’s lying.”

“Why would someone lie about that?” Duckworth asked.

“I have no idea. But it’s not true. Jan wouldn’t have said that. It makes no sense for her to have said that.”

“Why did Mrs. Harwood tell you that you’d be happier if she was gone? Maybe even dead?”

“What?” I said again.

“You heard me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Are you denying she ever said that?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Not for several seconds. Finally, quietly, I said, “Gina’s.”

“Yes?”

“Almost two weeks ago, I think. We were having dinner-we were going to have dinner-at Gina’s. This is what you’re referring to.”

“Suppose you tell me.”

“Jan was very distraught through dinner. She said some crazy things. And then she had this outburst-probably loud enough for anyone in the restaurant to hear-that I’d be happy to be rid of her. Something along those lines. But not that I wanted her dead. She never said that.”

“So you would be happy if you could be rid of her, but not if it meant she had to die.”

“No! None of it’s true. I mean, yes, she said I’d be happier without her, but it’s not true. I don’t know why she’d think that, unless it’s all tied in to her depression. Did you talk to Gina? Because if she’s saying Jan said I wanted her dead, that’s horseshit.”

“About Jan’s depression,” Duckworth said, “it’s kind of interesting that the only one who’s noticed your wife has been suffering from that is you.”

I was shaking my head violently. “That’s not true. That’s not true at all. Talk to her doctor. Talk to Dr. Samuels. He’ll tell you.”

Duckworth gave me a pitying look. “Your wife never went to see Dr. Samuels.”

“For Christ’s sake,” I said. “Get him on the phone.”

“I’ve talked to him,” Duckworth said. “Jan Harwood never went to see him about her depression.”

I think I did a pretty good impression of a slack-jawed idiot at that moment. I stared at him, openmouthed, trying to make sense of the news.

Finally, I said, “That’s a load of horseshit, too.”

But it only took me another couple of seconds to realize it was possible Jan could have lied to me about going to see the doctor, just so I’d get off her case. But this clown at the Lake George store, suggesting Jan didn’t know why I’d brought her along, that person was a goddamn liar, there was no doubt in my mind about that.

“So everyone’s full of shit,” Duckworth said. “What about the security cameras and the computers at Five Mountains? Are they full of shit, too?”

“The ticket thing?” I asked. “Is that what you mean?”

“Why were only two tickets charged to your wife’s card, Mr. Harwood? One adult, one child. Was it because you knew you wouldn’t be taking your wife with you? Did you take her card out of her purse when you were online, or had you written down the details earlier?”

“I didn’t order them,” I said. “Jan ordered them. And she was there, at the park. I can’t explain the ticket thing. Maybe… maybe, when she came back from the car, she realized she’d printed out the wrong thing, that there wasn’t a ticket for her, and she paid cash to get in.”

“We’ve looked at all the security footage at the gates, and we can’t find her. Not coming in, and not going out.”

“Then there’s something wrong with it,” I said. “Maybe there’s some footage that’s missing.”

I pointed at him, then started stabbing the table with my index finger to make a point. “Look, I see what you’re doing here, and you’ve got it wrong. The first thing you need to do is check out this thing with Jan’s birth certificate, these people I thought were her parents, but who turned out not to be.”

“So show it to me,” Duckworth said.

“I don’t… have it.”

“It’s at your house?”

I shook my head. “It had been hidden. It was in an envelope, behind a baseboard in the linen closet. But I looked today, when I got back from Rochester, and it was gone.”

“Well.”

“Come on. Can’t you call those things up anyway? The state has records. You can get a copy of it. Can’t you do that?”

Duckworth nodded slowly. “I suppose I could.”

“But you’re not going to. Because you don’t believe anything I’ve told you.”

“Which story would you like me to believe, Mr. Harwood? The one about your wife wanting to kill herself, or the one about her being in the witness protection program? Or have you got a third one waiting in the wings?”

I put my elbows on the table and my head in my hands. “My wife’s out there somewhere and you need to be looking for her.”

“You know what would save me a lot of time in that regard?” Duckworth asked.

I raised my head. “What?”

“You could tell me where she is. What did you do with her, Mr. Harwood? What did you do with your wife?”

“I didn’t do anything with her!” I shouted at Barry Duckworth. “I swear to God I didn’t. Why the hell would I want to hurt her? I love her! She’s my wife, for God’s sake. We have a son!”

Duckworth sat expressionless, unruffled.

“I am not lying to you!” I said. “I’m not making this up! Jan’s been depressed. She told me she went to the doctor. So maybe she didn’t go, maybe she didn’t tell me the truth about that. But that’s what she told me.”

Still nothing.

“Look, I don’t know how to explain that no one else noticed how Jan was feeling. Maybe… maybe she could only be herself when she was with me. When she was with others, she put on this act, put on a happy face, to get by.” I shook my head in frustration. “I don’t know what to tell you.” Then, an idea. “You should talk to Leanne. Have you talked to her yet? They work together. Leanne sees Jan day in and day out. Even if Jan was able to hide how she was feeling with most people, Leanne would pick something up.”

“Leanne.” Duckworth said the name slowly.

“Leanne Kowalski,” I said. “She’d be in the book. Her husband’s name, I’m trying to think. It starts with an ‘L,’ too. Lionel, or Lyall, something like that.”

“I’ll have to check that out,” Duckworth said. There was something in his tone, like he either didn’t think Leanne was worth talking to, or he’d already done it. “How would you describe Jan’s relationship with Leanne?”

“Relationship?”

“Good friends?”

“I’ve told you this. They just worked together. Leanne generally acts like she’s got a pickle up her ass.”

“They ever do things together?” Duckworth asked.

“Like what?”

“Lunch, shopping? Catch a movie?”

“No.”

“They didn’t hang out sometimes after work?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? No. Why’s this important?”

“No reason,” Duckworth said.

“Look, just talk to her. Talk to anyone. Talk to every goddamn person you can find. You’re not going to find anyone who thinks I have anything to do with Jan’s disappearance. I love her.”

“I’m sure,” Duckworth said.

“Fuck this,” I said. “You have this so completely wrong.” I pushed back my chair and stood up. “Am I under arrest or anything?”

“Absolutely not,” Duckworth said.

“Do I need a lawyer?”

“Do you think you need a lawyer?” he asked.

There was no smart way to answer that. If I said yes, I looked guilty. If I said no, I looked like a fool.

“I’m going to need a ride back to my car and-no, forget it. I’ll find my own way back to my parents’ place.”

“About that,” Duckworth said. “Before we sat down for our little chat, I popped out to see about search warrants. We’re seizing both of your cars, Mr. Harwood, and we’re going to be conducting a search of your house.”

“You’re what?”

“So maybe getting in touch with a lawyer would be a good thing.”

“You’re going to search my house?” I said.