Page 60 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

Her voice was barely above a whisper. Her voice trembles as tears run down her cheeks.

"When she was little..."

She smiled to herself.

"...she'd run into our room every time there was thunder."

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the door.

"I keep wondering..."

She swallowed.

"...if she was scared."

There it was. Not… Is she alive? Or did she suffer? Just… Was she scared? My throat tightened. She looked at me with tears in her eyes, her mind going somewhere it shouldn’t.

"...Oh God, what if my baby girl was scared and she couldn’t run to us."

As soon as those words were spoken her body started to crumble. I caught her just as she was going to collapse. I took her hand and looked into her eyes. Fuck so much pain in those eyes.

"I don't know but I will look for her. I will bring her home to you I promise."

It wasn't the answer or words she wanted or the answer I wanted but it was the only honest one I had. She nodded slowly.

"I suppose that's worse, not knowing where my baby girl is or if she is…"

Another silence.

"Thank you for not giving up on her."

I looked at the photograph sitting on the hallway table behind her. Emily, smiling frozen forever at twenty-four.

"I won't."

This time… I meant it as much for myself as I did for her.

The drive home felt longer than usual. Max greeted me at the door with a tennis ball in his mouth and absolutely no understanding that the world had been unbearably heavy all day.

Lucky fucker.

I scratched behind his ears as he leaned against my leg with the complete certainty that, whatever had happened beyond the front door, it no longer mattered because I was home.

I wished people were that simple. I locked the front door. I checked it once then I checked it again not because I thought someone had broken in but because routine was one of the few things that still made sense. The house was quiet. Almost too quiet. My eyes drifted across the hallway. There was a little clump of dirt that wasn’t there this morning…

Did I step it inside? I can’t even fucking remember. I shook my head. The case was getting to my head. Everything was starting to feel important. Everything except the one thing I needed. A fucking answer. I killed the kitchen lights and started toward the stairs.

Tomorrow. I'd start again tomorrow because somewhere someone was still waiting to be found and I refused to let them become just another photograph pinned to a wall.

Seraphina

The first thing I noticed wasn't the light creeping through the curtains. It was the smell.

I stayed exactly where I was, cocooned beneath the blankets while morning settled quietly around the little cottage, the world outside still stretching itself awake one sleepy bird at a time. Somewhere beyond the window, leaves whispered together in the breeze, and a blackbird announced to absolutely nobody in particular that it had survived another night. Good for him. Personally, I preferred mornings that arrived with less enthusiasm.

I pulled the sleeve of the oversized grey sweater over my fingers until only the tips peeked through. It still smelled like him, not overwhelmingly. Just enough.

Him.