The Quiet Wife

THE QUIET WIFE BY J.M. CANNON The Quiet Wife Copyright 2023. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author. This is a work of fiction. None of the characters in this novel are based on real people. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. TABLE OF CONTENTS Out of The Woods San Diego, Nine Weeks Earlier Cope Escape Cloudburst The Eden Project San Clemente Mistakes Scrubbed Drinks Powers of Persuasion Carson’s Pass Into the Wild (Cold) Yonder Warm Orange Squares Behind Closed Doors All Girls Touch In Code Private Places Look Closer 948 Miles Crown Victoria Truth be Told Who Killed Who? Stupid, Idiot Mountain Tops Without a Trace Heavy Breathing Drill Bit A Worthy Wife Storm Clouds Alpine Finds Snow Blind Soak Worse Weather Alone Footsteps Gun Smoke Cabernet Sauvignon Bedridden Seen Alive Stay Breadcrumbs Forty-Seven-Feet Wet Suit Slip Time Gaps Lucid Dreaming Bloodstone Manila Accusations Concrete Pity 3…2…1 Lights, Camera Action Fool’s Gold Betrayal Burn Run TBI Humiliated San Diego, Six Months Later OUT OF THE WOODS It drove me crazy. It had snowed twice this year and both times someone had found a mysterious set of footprints coming from the woods. I was outside, a quarter mile from my house in the woods, staring down with a frown at a large set of tracks. I knew there was an old story that started off similar to this, but I couldn’t remember its name. The story went something like this: a farmer finds a strange set of footsteps in the snow. The prints come out of the woods and stop at his back door, but when he searches his home, it’s empty. That night he goes to the village SAN DIEGO, NINE WEEKS EARLIER My life had gotten to the point where there was little that could compete with my bed and a book come 10pm. I never wanted it to be like that, but it’s funny how pleasures change. Crisp, cool sheets on freshly shaven legs… a novel. A deep, uninterrupted sleep only to wake with the sun. I was happy I had those things, because, at thirty-six, my hangovers had become Cat 5 hurricanes. But to be fair I was a little drunk as I thought all that. Oh well. It was 2am and I sat on the back patio. While people laughed and chatted in their seats around me, I was in