In her soft face, I see a glimpse of my daughter, who used to be my best friend, my pal. But now we are like two strangers living in this dark, quiet house.
I line the coffee machine with a filter before filling it with coffee and water. After turning it on, I grab my laptop from my bedroom.
I’ve just taken the first sip of the freshly brewed coffee when my phone rings with a video call from Lukas Spencer, my colleague and buddy at the Kings Security company.
“You saw the case file?” he asks without much preamble.
I hum in response. “Do we know who the girl is?”
He shakes his head. “No, local PD has not identified the body yet. The police chief will arrive in an hour. We’ll know more then.”
My gaze rivets to the already-opened case file on my computer again.
This is the fourth case of a young girl being kidnapped this month. I scan the grainy photo of a girl’s body and can’t shake the image of Merida leaving for school with a sad and depressed face.
I suppress a groan, twisting my neck sideways as the ever-present headache throbs inside my skull.
“All okay?” Lukas asks. When you work with people twenty-four-seven, especially those who are trained to pick up on every flutter of air and every nuance, it’s hard to hide.
“Mere is no longer wearing Melanie’s watch. I have seen none of her girlfriends for over a year. She goes to school, comes back, just stays holed up in her room.” My stomach hardens as I mention a few things from the long list.
“What does her therapist say?”
“That she should be around people.” I release a deep breath, trying to clear my head and focus on making things better for my daughter. I’ll not let her life become like mine. “I’ve asked my parents to visit once they’re back from their vacation. We made the loft for them and it’s barely used.” I peer at the stairs going up to the loft from the side of the living room.
“That’ll be good, man, for both of you.”
I know he’s worried about me, but he doesn’t know no one’s presence can take the abiding darkness away from my life.
* * *
In the evening, I park my Range Rover in the garage and open the tracking app on my phone to check Mere’s location. When I see her safely inside the house, I take a deep breath and relax back in my seat.
Another day over.
Opening the glove box, I locate the old envelope hidden behind some papers. Taking it out, I grab pictures of Melanie. My Melanie.
Sun kissing her beautiful face as she lies on the beach wearing a neon bikini. My fingers graze her all-too-familiar dips and curves. I take a shaky breath and can somehow smell the sea right now in my car.
Flipping through to the next photo, I find her leaning against an ice-skating rink in a Christmas market, dressed in a heavy down jacket and a black beanie. Her tongue poking out with a dollop of coffee cream resting on the tip. My lips curl up, remembering her carefree laugh when she fell on that damn cold ice.
But that smile lasted for only a second, as the next photo in the stack is where she’s no longer my happy, radiant wife. Sitting alone in the park swing, too bony and too pale.
It was a picture I clicked while she was waiting for me after her chemo. This was supposed to be a reminder for us, that bad times shall pass, when she recovered eventually. But that didn’t happen, and it became a lesson for me that good times shall never return.
I thump my head back.
It’s been ten years! Ten fucking pathetic years, I’ve been yearning for my dead wife. There is no one who affects me, body and soul, as she did. How could someone else, when we were supposed to be each other’s forever?
Noise from inside the house brings me back to now. Without giving a second glance, I place the pictures back in the envelope and hide them in the glove box.
From the passenger seat, I grab the paper bag from Tiki’s, a diner near my work, and take out the strawberry slush. Looking at the pink, frosty drink, a smile forms on my lips.
Merida’s love for this drink is one of the rare things that hasn’t changed yet.
I enter the house and find her in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water.
Hearing me, she looks up. Her gaze indifferent. She doesn’t smile. She doesn’t hug me.