The morning of my transfer, with my husband checking his watch behind the glass and his mother’s hand resting on Sienna’s belly, I leaned into the microphone.
“Before you move me,” I said, “I need to speak to the prosecutor and Detective Nunez. I have information about a woman who disappeared five years ago, and I can tell you exactly where to search.”
Roman stopped checking the time.
“What woman?” the prosecutor asked.
I looked straight through the glass at my husband.
“Marissa Thorne.”
The smile fell off his face.
“Five years ago, Marissa found financial records connected to Roman’s old business,” I said, calm and clear. “Shortly after, she disappeared from his family’s farm in Kentucky. His mother has admitted keeping Marissa’s belongings. And the property records show Roman was personally on that site the exact period she vanished.”
“She’s lying!” Roman shouted. “She’s stalling her sentence!”
But the prosecutor wasn’t looking at him anymore.
