Dear David,
I have no idea why I am still addressing these journal entries to you.
Not like you will ever read them.
It is 2am and I am trying to write this quietly while sitting on the spare bed at Sue's house.
As if things couldn't get any crazier, tonight I came home from work to find the house broken into and your office and our room completely ransacked.
They, who ever they are, forced the back door. Thank god the kids were not at home.
I have no idea what they were looking for or even if they took anything.
I just stood there, looking at the mess and crumbled. Sat on the floor like an idiot and cried.
Then I rang Jacob, who came around with a couple of other police officers.
They asked me all sorts of questions I couldn't answer.
They suggested I should spend the night away from the house. I was worried about leaving, with the back door damaged, but Jacob reassured me that he would have an officer stay in the house until I was able to get it fixed tomorrow.
I could tell that they think there is more to the break in than just a random burglary. They kept asking me if there had been any strange calls, messages or even unusual cars in the street.
I told them about the Facebook stuff, even the weird things that Billie Paulson was saying and then I remembered the car that had parked across the road several times since you disappeared.
When I rang the kids to tell them, both of them agreed to stay with Brian for the night. I am happier with them being together and away from the house.
You are safe and sound at the coroners. I agreed to a full autopsy, although I think that was merely a formality. It was going to happen anyway.
All they have told me so far is that it seems you died about a week ago, yet you have been gone for nearly three weeks.
This just does my head in. I kept thinking that you were in the house with me, and now I will never really know for sure.
I am still finding the juice on the bench and the radio playing, fixed on your daggy station.
I turn it off, leave the room and when I return, it is on again.
Actually my meltdown over the break in was the second for the day.
The first was finding that bloody juice out again. I just lost it. Threw it at the wall.
And of course, then I had to clean it up.
All by myself.
Your boss called today. Asked if he could borrow your laptop to retrieve some work stuff.
I told him that I didn't know where it was.
I can't risk giving it to anyone until James lets me really look at it. He is guarding it like it is the crown jewels.
Perhaps it is just that it is yours.
Katy has taken to wearing your favorite old t-shirt. The really faded one that I have wanted to throw out for months.
I am just letting them grieve in the only way they can. Perhaps after the funeral, we can actually start looking to the future again.
I wanted to see your body but they wouldn't let me. After a week in a ditch beside a lonely country road, you are not your usual handsome self I guess.
They are going to do DNA, Toxicology and other tests to try to work out just how you died and when they figure that out, then we can start making arrangements.
Don't expect me to wear black to your funeral.
I will find a dress that you would have loved, something that shows off my legs.
You always liked me in a short dress.
Maybe red.
You used to love me in red.
What am I going to do without you?
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