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It took me a long time to fall asleep. The security team had an app I used on my phone for updates. I stared at the green all-is-safe light until very late.
Early to bed early to rise for Charley, who popped up at five thirty. I took him outside for his morning pee and then into the office for a drink of water. In the kitchen there was a note.
I’m sorry. I’ll be downstairs until seven if you want to talk.
Hank
I stared at the dark window in front of the kitchen. Charley wandered out of the office, his eyes blinkingdrowsily. Lately, he liked to doze for at least another hour after the morning piddle, and I was fully on board with that plan. I grabbed the pen and scribbled a quick reply.
I don’t. Goodbye.
Charley and I went back to bed. Miller wouldn’t come if Hank was here prowling the fence line. I sniffed, wiping my face with the sheet. Loving him didn’t change the fact that it wasn’t going to work.
Sleep wouldn’t come for me, although Charley snored contentedly in his kennel. At seven thirty, I got up and dressed for a workout. With a yip, Charley reminded me that he didn’t sleep unless I was on the bed, so I let him out. I opened my laptop and checked for a response from Miller. There wasn’t anything.
The house was very quiet as Charley and I went into the kitchen. I stood and listened by the stairs while I drank my juice and then followed Charley when he ran down to the lower floor. A few cushions were scattered across the couch and all the lights were off. Hank was gone.
Back upstairs, I opened a screen on my tablet with the live footage from the security cameras on the property. Charley wolfed down his breakfast while I nibbled on a piece of toast. Most likely, Miller wouldn’t see my taunt until it was too late. As a fugitive, he’d likely have to go to a library or business with free Wi-Fi to get online using a burner phone, unless he had a prepaid cell he’d figured out how to make untraceable.
Charley yapped at the door, so I organized myself and headed out into the backyard with him on a leash. We walked loops around the fence line, keeping away from the pool, until I put my foot down and locked him into his little doggie enclosure.
My phone pinged while I was stretching on the exercise mat.
Amber: You okay?
Sally: Yep. Hank is gone. I’m a free woman.
Amber: Sorry girl.
Sally: Thanks
Amber: Mario is still texting me.
Sally: What does he have to say?
Amber: He’s writing this one-sided stream of consciousness type of thing. I don’t reply at all. Today it was some nonsense about seeing leftover coffee in the pot and missing the tickle of my hair on his shoulder. WTF?
Sally: He’s writing you poetry now?
Amber: He’s messing with me. I’m going on a date tonight with a new guy.
Sally: Hell yeah.
Amber: This guy seems normal. And cute.
Sally: Checking boxes already.
Amber: We’re doing lunch. I’ll call you after.
Sally: Tell him about the toe guy and see what he says. The toe test.
Amber: Ugh.
The morning dragged on. Mostly I stretched, and lifted a little, and stared at the security footage on the tablet then walked around the yard with Charley on his leash. Nothing happened. Finally, I went inside to do course work on my computer.
I put on dry clothes, bibbed overall shorts with deep pockets and a sports bra underneath that displayed the cleavage—on the off chance that Miller did show up, I was hoping to distract him. In the office, Charley passed out while I organized my college assignments.
After a couple hours, I stood up and stretched. Could I force down a sandwich? Gasping, I stumbled back a step then stopped moving. On the security camera feed, a pool cleaning van pulled up to the automatic gate.
