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He offered an opportunity to explore a fantasy, something I dreamed about, while holding a vibrator against my throbbing pussy. But he didn’t promise a safe exploration—sure, he said there would be no pain, but nothing about him felt safe tonight. I must be the craziest woman on earth, because I enjoyed that side of him—enjoyed the thrill more than I care to admit. Maybe I am reckless. Maybe risk turns me on in some godforsaken way.
The closet smells like him, costly sandalwood wrapped around spicy musk, against the cedar backdrop.
I glance at a rack lined with shoes. Above it is a shelf with sweaters and a small car enclosed in a glass case. The case isn’t much different from the ones that hold my childhood trophies, except it’s smaller.
I reach up and take it, looking to see if there’s some kind of plaque. Maybe he’s started racing cars, like Antonio. But there’s nothing to indicate that he has a new hobby.
It’s a child’s toy, a red hot rod with orange and yellow flames.
“Lexie, I have to—” The words die in his throat when he sees what’s in my hands.
I know then that it has something to do with his mother, and my chest tightens.
“It’s sweet,” I coo, a second before he takes it out of my hands gingerly and puts it up on a high shelf that I can’t reach without a step stool.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
The muscles in his back are taut as he quietly rearranges a few things on the built-in dresser.
This is my fault. I should have never touched the car. I’m the one always squawking about privacy, but I invaded his—in the worst possible way. I want to comfort him. I’m not sure how.
After a few more moments of uneasy silence, I can’t stand it anymore and I do what I would want a lover to do for me. I wrap my arms around him and press my cheek to his back.
He’s twitchy again, almost like he was before we had sex.
“Does the car remind you of your mother?”
He doesn’t reply. We just stand quietly, his heart hammering, while I imagine a blue-eyed boy whose mother vanished when he was eight.
Eventually, he nods. “I struggled to read when I was a kid. My father didn’t want to get a tutor, so my mother would work with me every night. She always gave me a small treat when we were done. Sometimes a small car. I collected them. She gave me that car the night before she disappeared.”
The emotion inside me is nearing a crescendo, but I keep it in check. He doesn’t need my pity. It would be just another thing to burden him.
“Do you have any idea what happened?”
“Not enough to lead me to her.”
His phone rings. It’s shrill in the quiet space, and he pulls away to answer it.
“Yeah.” His face is serious, with a twinge of sorrow, but as he listens, anger creeps into his expression.
“Have they identified her?”
Terror seizes me, its tentacles foraging deep into my soul. The traffickers struck again. I know it. How could that be? How? It’s too soon.
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” It’s all he says before ending the call.
“What happened?” I’m not sure he’ll tell me, although he’s been forthcoming about anything to do with the ring. At least I think he has been.
“A woman was abducted in Oslo.”
A woman was abducted in Oslo. I expected this. But still I’m not prepared for it. I can’t move for several seconds. It’s like I’m rooted to the ground as the pain twists inside. There’s a wail from somewhere—maybe from me—and I crumple to the floor.
“Lexie. Are you okay?” His words are muffled, and I can barely make them out, but I don’t care about what he’s saying. A woman was abducted in Oslo. Before I got there. Another woman taken. I tried to warn them. I sent emails. I did. But they never listen. Because you send them anonymous emails, and they think you’re just another unstable person following the case.
Rafael is on the floor beside me, and he pulls me onto his lap. “Shh,” he murmurs. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”
It doesn’t feel like it’s ever going to be okay. It’s been two years. Two fucking years. They’re never going to catch them. Some days I’m not even sure they’re trying. “When is it going to end?”
