11
Frederick Edwards paced his office, ready to fire or shoot anyone who told him they couldn’t find his wife. She was his f*****g wife. She wasn’t smart. She wasn’t savvy. She was a simple woman who never questioned anything. That was why he married her. She had a rack that made him drool and she was so desperate for love when they met that she didn’t see who he really was. She was perfect for him.
And now she was f*****g missing.
His phone rang, and he glared at the device in his hand. Blocked numbers were common in his business, but usually he expected the call. This one he was not expecting, which meant it could have something to do with whoever took Ashleigh.
“What,” he barked into the phone.
“Are you missing a wife?” the man on the other end of the line said.
“Who the f**k are
