On Tuesday, October 6, 2009, I spent the day calling my husband's cell phone. Howard and I had been married six years and owned a business together in Pueblo, Colorado. We normally talked three or four times a day, and text-messaged even more: Howard often checked in to see how I was doing. It was unusual — and not a good sign, I thought — that he wasn't picking up.
By the time 5 p.m. rolled around, I just knew something was wrong, and I was worried enough to call Robert, Howard's teenage son from his first marriage, to ask him if he knew where his father was.
"I can't talk right now. I'm with the police," he said hurriedly. "They're accusing my dad of something.
On Tuesday, October 6, 2009, I spent the day calling my husband's cell phone. Howard and I had been married six years and owned a business together in Pueblo, Colorado. We normally talked three or four times a day, and text-messaged even more: Howard often checked in to see how I was doing. It was unusual — and not a good sign, I thought — that he wasn't picking up.By the time 5 p.m. rolled around, I just knew something was wrong, and I was worried enough to call Robert, Howard's teenage son from his first marriage, to ask him if he knew where his father was."I can't talk right now. I'm with the police," he said hurriedly. "They're accusing my dad of something.
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