Page 55 of The Delivery

Clink clink. Clink clink.

They look back at Maddy, a final check before leaving the safety of the bedroom.

The sound comes even louder off the hard surfaces of the hall.

Clink clink. Clink clink.

They inch down the corridor, eyes on the nursery door.

It is open.

Did they leave it open? She cannot remember.

Clink clink. Clink clink.

The noise is oddly even, perfectly spaced like Mr. Man’s fingers and toes.

They draw closer, the sound of their progress muted by the hammering of rain on the shingles. It is like being inside a kettledrum. Lightning flashes, throwing the framed photographs on the wall into sudden bright relief—coconut drinks on their Kauai honeymoon, Maddy’s kindergarten portrait, a selfie of them crammed three across on that bunny slope ski lift at Big Bear.

Clink clink. Clink clink.

The nursery is now just a few strides away.

But Mark halts by the laundry-room cubby. The door is closed.

When he opens it, the clink clink grows louder yet.

Bleach sits atop the washing machine. Laundry thumps inside the dryer. Who is washing anything at this hour?

Mark’s knee cracks as he squats before the dryer. He reaches for the handle. Hesitates. Tugs it open.

A tumble of clothes inside.

A T-shirt from Costco. A pair of Mark’s 501s.

Clink clink. Clink clink.

Like something left in a pocket of the jeans has come loose.

As the dryer slows, the thing inside rattles loudly to a stop.

Rebecca splits her focus between the dryer, the nursery door just ahead, and the dark hall beyond.

Mark reaches inside. His hand disappears to the wrist in fabric, roots around.

It emerges.

His shoulders ripple as they tighten. He gives something like a gasp.

Rebecca’s heart is thundering to match the storm. She jerks her gaze to check the hall once more and then leans to peer over his shoulder.

A silver key, the head bulging tumorlike to the right.

But that isn’t what snares her breath in her throat. It’s the leather fob the key is attached to, sporting a metal crest with the Porsche insignia.

Mark sets down the key on top of the dryer. He stands slowly.

The rise and fall of his chest beneath his T-shirt, a match for the one in the dryer, is pronounced.