A Pair of Slippers

In the dim glow of the dashboard, Jennifer's hands gripped the steering wheel as the car hummed towards Sacred Oaks.

Ethan turned over the enigmatic card marked with the number '3'. It was a silent sentinel of the day's revelations. "Jennifer," he began, his voice steady despite the storm of thoughts, "I'm drawn into this case because of this card."

Jennifer cast a quick glance at the card, her eyes reflecting a flicker of surprise. "This card..."

"A journalist from the LA Insider approached me with this," Ethan recounted, weaving the tale of his encounter with Nancy, the morning's meeting with Caroline, and the tangled web linking her to her mentor, Charles. As he concluded his narrative, a thoughtful pause filled the air before he continued, "Nancy escorted Donna, the recipient of this card, to safety at her home."

Jennifer's brow furrowed slightly. "I saw the news of the chaos at the 'Insight' press conference on social media this morning. So, this is the hidden tale..." She pondered for a moment. "Shouldn't the police be guarding Donna now, with the emergence of this third card?"

Ethan took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "That's why I'm entrusting this lead to you. Inform Captain Bowen. He'll take the necessary steps." He paused, his thoughts swirling. "If we can link Charles and Trevor, Donna might be connected too. But when Nancy questioned her, Donna denied knowing them. She's concealing something, deceiving Nancy."

"I'll contact Captain Bowen immediately," Jennifer said resolutely, her fingers deftly finding his number on her phone. After sending a detailed voice message about the third card, she turned to Ethan, concern etching her features. "Do you believe we can apprehend the perpetrator before Donna becomes their next target?"

Ethan gazed out into the night, his expression unreadable. "Ever heard the saying about swimmers drowning? Overconfidence can be a treacherous ally. No, I won't make such claims. We can only strive with all we have."

Jennifer's curiosity piqued. "If Donna is safe for now, why not confront her directly? Could she really continue to withhold the truth in the face of danger?"

"People often conceal their wounds, not seeking admiration for their scars, nor willingly exposing their darkest secrets," Ethan mused, his voice low. The car turned a corner, the city lights casting shadows across his face. "When we meet Charles's wife, do you think you can coax out her ties to Trevor?" Jennifer asked, her tone laced with determination and a hint of uncertainty.

"Ever wonder why I didn't approach Hannah first to inquire about her knowledge of Charles's wife? If I had, she might have tipped off Barbara, Charles's wife. That would've made extracting the truth from her even more challenging. It's in those unguarded moments that we might catch a slip, a chink in her armor. Barbara Ingham, that's her name, right?"

"Yes, Barbara Ingham," Jennifer replied, her tone reflecting a mix of professionalism and observation. "She's 48, a homemaker now. Previously a saleswoman in a medical company, she left her career after marrying Charles. They never had children. When Charles was found dead, Captain Bowen brought her in for questioning. I saw her briefly then; she carried herself with a quiet, mature grace," Jennifer paused, reflecting. "And she's strikingly beautiful."

Ethan mused over Caroline's words about the Inghams, a seemingly perfect couple: a renowned surgeon and a graceful, beautiful wife. Yet, Caroline's hints at marital strife echoed in his mind, adding layers to his perception. These thoughts were further fueled by the discovery of the bank receipt at Trevor's residence, suggesting deeper entanglements.

Upon their arrival at Sacred Oaks, Ethan and Jennifer checked in at the gate before heading to the buildings. Ethan paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face, then decided to proceed to Building A instead of B.

Reaching the 12th floor of Building A, they stood before apartment 1202. Jennifer's voice dropped to a whisper, "This is it." She pressed the doorbell. After a tense two-minute wait, the door creaked open, revealing a woman in her forties, her gaze cautious and questioning. "Who are you?"

With a professional demeanor, Jennifer flashed her badge through the slight opening. "We're from the police department. Are you Barbara Ingham? We need to speak with you regarding Dr. Charles Ingham's case."

Barbara examined the badge meticulously before fully opening the door and handing it back. Her expression was a blend of surprise and confusion. "Isn't Captain Bowen the lead on my husband's case?"

Ethan stepped forward, his voice conveying calm authority. "We're part of his team," he explained.

Barbara hesitated momentarily, then her demeanor softened slightly. "Please, come in," she said, ushering Jennifer and Ethan into her home.

The moment Ethan and Jennifer crossed the threshold of the Ingham residence, Ethan's eyes swept the living room with a detective's keen observation. The space was impeccably organized. Barbara, with a gesture of hospitality, offered slippers to her guests. Ethan's attention briefly fixated on them; they were identical to the ones he had seen at Trevor's place.

Slipping into the provided footwear, Ethan subtly surveyed the kitchen before settling in the living room alongside Barbara. Jennifer, initiating the conversation with a touch of casual observation, commented, "Your home is remarkably tidy."

Barbara responded with a hint of pride, "Thank you. I've always felt a cluttered space clouds the mind. Perhaps it's something I inherited."

"My mother was the same," she added, her smile hinting at nostalgia. She then excused herself to the kitchen, returning with two disposable paper cups filled with water, and took a seat on the sofa. Her brow furrowed slightly as she asked, "Didn't we cover everything at the police station? What brings you here now?"

Ethan's gaze lingered on Barbara, noting the telltale signs of sleep deprivation: dark circles under her eyes and a pale complexion. "It seems you've been struggling with sleep lately," he observed.

"How could I possibly rest easy?" Barbara sighed, the weight of her grief apparent. "Ever since Charles's... incident, nightmares plague my nights. I can barely catch a wink of sleep, even with sleeping pills." She looked up, a flicker of hope crossing her face. "Have you found who killed my husband?"

"The police are diligently working on the case," Jennifer assured her. She then shifted the topic, "We're here to inquire about your relationship with your husband."

Barbara's expression flickered with surprise at the mention of her marital relationship. After a brief pause, she replied, "What does that have to do with Charles's death?"

"We're just piecing together the full picture," Ethan interjected, getting straight to the point. "We've spoken with one of Charles's assistants, Caroline. She hinted at some issues in your marriage."

Barbara's response was quick, her words firm but her eyes betraying a hint of something concealed. "Why should that make me nervous?"

She reached for her glass of water, taking a moment to compose herself. After a thoughtful sip, she continued, "You're all quite young, probably not yet versed in the complexities of marriage. It's natural for there to be highs and lows. Charles and I have been married for 28 years. Disagreements are common, but our love was never in doubt. If there were serious problems, how could our marriage have lasted this long?"

Ethan's gaze lingered on the wall beside the dining table. "It's evident you two shared many happy moments," he remarked.

Barbara's eyes followed Ethan's to the wall adorned with photographs of her and Charles, captured in their younger days during various travels. The images, frozen in time, hinted at a past filled with adventure and joy, but they were all from over a decade ago.

"We used to make it a tradition to travel every year," Barbara reflected, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "But as Charles became increasingly absorbed in his work, our journeys dwindled." Her eyes softened as she recalled, "We still managed to sneak in short trips around the city when his schedule allowed - picnics, camping." A shadow of sorrow crossed her face. "We had plans for mountain climbing this Memorial Day."

Jennifer, sensing the emotional weight of the conversation, offered a gentle disclaimer, "If this topic is too sensitive, please don't feel obliged to answer." She paused, glancing at Ethan before broaching a personal question, "In over two decades of marriage, did you and Charles ever consider having children?"

Barbara met Jennifer's gaze, a fleeting smile crossing her lips. "We did try," she began, her voice steady yet tinged with a deep-seated pain. "I was pregnant in the second year of our marriage, full of anticipation. But fate had other plans. A car accident a week before my due date... and we lost our baby." Her eyes clouded with the memory. "We tried again, but the second pregnancy brought complications, a severe hemorrhage. Charles had to make a choice, and he chose to save me." She paused, her voice growing softer. "I think those experiences left him fearful."

Jennifer, visibly moved by Barbara's story, asked softly, "After those heartbreaking experiences, did you both decide against trying for more children?"

Barbara nodded, her expression a mixture of resignation and acceptance. "Two pregnancies, two tragedies. That's part of the reason." She inhaled deeply, gathering her thoughts. "At first, Charles was adamant about not risking my safety again. Later, I sensed something amiss and sought medical advice. The prognosis wasn't promising – my chances of conceiving were slim." A sad smile touched her lips. "Charles made his decision to protect me from further heartache, unaware that I had known about my condition for years. And I never brought it up with him."

"So, this matter lingered like an unspoken shadow in your marriage, a subject neither of you dared to broach?" He casually picked up a paper cup, his gaze not meeting Barbara's. "It must have been a source of underlying tension, correct?"

Barbara bristled at Ethan's inference, her voice rising slightly in a mix of defense and emotion. "I've already told you, Charles and I had a deep love for each other. There was no discord in our relationship." She looked away, her voice strained with the weight of recent events. "Now, my husband has been missing for nearly a month, his killer is still at large, and his body remains in the morgue. Yet here you are, probing our personal life instead of seeking his murderer."

Ethan's eyes were fixed on the gentle ripples in his cup, his demeanor calm yet assertive. "To solve a mystery, to uncover the truth, we must understand all aspects of the situation. If you truly want to aid the police in finding your husband's killer and bringing closure to Charles, it's important to be truthful." He looked up, his gaze meeting Barbara's. "You've made your home a sanctuary, perhaps in hopes of drawing Charles closer, but it seems your marriage had lost its essence long ago. It's likely you haven't shared a close, intimate relationship in years, am I right?"