On my side of the bed, the pillow is sunken, the sheets a wreck. As if I’ve torn them out, tossing and turning.
I’ve shoved the pillows
to Eve’s side of the bed.
“Eve?”
No answer.
The bathroom door is shut. I look for the thin strip of light that should be showing at the bottom of the door. Dark.
Where is she?
I grab a pair of jeans and get partially dressed, foregoing a shirt, and barrel downstairs, expecting to see her in the kitchen, maybe huddled up with a cup of coffee. She does that when she’s brooding over a case, and I remember last night how she left the house for a run, restless and perturbed over a missing teenager.
But the kitchen is empty.
I stand at the window, staring out at the backyard.
It takes me a bit, but what I’m seeing—or not seeing—is dawning on me.
The swing set I spent last weekend building for Ashley is gone. Vanished.
Just grass, wild and unkempt, needing a mow.
Huh?
Behind me, a clock chimes. 6 a.m.
Eve has to be out for a run. I think this even as my brain shouts outs an unintelligible answer. Like my dream, I look around for it, as if the answer might materialize.
The doorbell rings, and my heart restarts.
It’s Eve, and she’s forgotten her keys.
I open the door and a rush of relief swills through me at the sight of Eve standing on the stoop. Except she’s not wearing her running gear but a pair of dress pants, a crisp white shirt and she’s carrying her satchel over her shoulder. Her beautiful hair is pulled back, tight, and her eyes hold age, stress, and not a little weariness.
The image of the younger Eve flashes through my mind. Bright, her hair down and flowing through my fingers. “Did you go back to work?” I ask and shift to my right to let her come inside. “Why didn’t you text me?”
A car door slams and beyond her Silas is coming up the walk.
He has a scowl on his face, but I’ve secretly always thought that Silas wanted to kill me and bury me in a dumpster. What’s strange, however, is that usually he hides it.
“Are you working from home today?” She isn’t coming in.
“Stop it, Rem,” she says, and her tone could peel skin.
Huh? I make the sound and she sighs.
“You can’t keep dodging me. Grow up. I shouldn’t have to ambush you to get you to accept these.” While she’s talking, she’s dug out a manila envelope. She hands it to me. “Take them.”
I admit that because of the way she says this, I’m slow to reach out and take the envelope. But I do, because she’s Eve and I’ll do just about anything she asks. I look at her and she glances away.
Her eyes glisten.
Silas stands behind her, glares at me, and I have the strangest sense he’s here to protect her.
Ignoring the urge to put a hand to his chest, push hard and drag Eve off the stoop and into the house for a private chat, I open the envelope. My breath leaks out as I read the header.