28. Evelyn
The safe-house that Laszlo told me to wait in was bigger than my old studio apartment.
There were no windows, but I found the lights, and a small desk area. The computer hadn’t been turned on in a while, and unlike the rest of Laszlo’s sanitized existence, this place needed a good cleaning.
That’s what I did.
I found the paper towels and some cleaning products in the washroom, and my hands were pink by the time I scrubbed everything down. The waste basket was overflowing, and I hated being wasteful, but there were no cloths or towels around.
I kept checking my phone. How long could I wait in here? There was a fridge, filled with bottled water. In the cupboards were cans of tuna, and some trail mix. The crackers hadn’t expired, so he checked the stock frequently.
I was still wired, and I started cleaning everything again, taking care to not scratch the computer monitors. Once that was all done, I plunked down and started it up.
The password box taunted me.
I was staring at it when I heard three knocks at the door in a familiar rhythm.
Jumping to my feet, I swung it open, and Laszlo gathered me up in his arms. My feet dangled in the air as I pressed against him, and he held me there.
“Are you okay? Is everything safe?” I asked.
“Yea,” he said, setting me back down on the ground. He ran his thumb over my cheek, and I curled into his affectionate touch. “Are you okay?”
“Yea, this place was a dump. Finally, something to do.” He looked around behind me, a crooked smile on his face. Something had changed, and there was something celebratory sparkling in his silver gaze.
I raised a brow.
“What happened?”
“Let’s talk at home.”
My adrenaline crashed once we were in the bedroom. My limbs were heavy, my eyes struggled to stay open.
“We should sleep first,” Laszlo said, noting my exhaustion.
“But I wanna know,” I said through a yawn. He pulled me down to the bed, his motions more casual and at ease than previously.
“Yo, lights off,” he said, and I giggled, the lights fading until we were swaddled in darkness.
“Yo?”
“Literally the only time I’d ever say it.”
My weary body spooned into his and I couldn’t fight off sleep. His arm tugged me close, his face pressed against mine.
When I woke, the room was warmer, and I ached from being in one spot too long. I stretched, disappointed to find I was alone. Once I was done with my morning routine, I found Laszlo in the kitchen, greeted by the sweet smell of something delicious.
“Oh my… Did you make me pancakes?” I asked, joining him at the kitchen island. He’d freshly showered, his dark hair still wet. He was wearing a more casual black shirt, linen, and it billowed off his slender frame.
“Good guess. I ordered pancakes. That’s the same thing, right?”
“Right,” I laughed.
He pushed a to-go mug in my direction. “I wasn’t sure how long you needed to sleep, so it’s insulated. Chai latte, right?”
I had no idea how he knew that. I barely knew that. It was something Roxy told me to try. It was creamy and sweet and a little spicy; perfect.
“Thank you.”
“Sure.” He grabbed a jug of fresh orange juice, pouring us both a small glass. “Cuts the cobwebs, though I doubt it goes well with your latte.”
I tried it, wearing the face of someone discerning.
“Hm, like a creamsicle. If creamsicles had spice.”
“That doesn’t sound terrible.”
“Want to try?”
“I’m good,” he said, drinking his black coffee.
It was late morning, and I was eager for my pancake, so I didn’t wait for him to join me. It was topped with whipped cream and strawberries, and reminded me of the funnel cake, though without that crispy crunch.
“Are you gonna have some?”
“Already did.”
I scrutinized him. He wasn’t someone who lied to me, I didn’t think, but it felt like he was right now. He picked up on my suspicion, distracting me from it.
“About last night.”
I perked up, my fork midway to my mouth, hanging in midair.
“Things are going to change, Lyn, and you deserve to know what that all means. I didn’t realize it would happen so soon, but now that you’re going to be my wife, you need to know what you’re getting into.”
“Okay… like what?”
We first met when he was setting a bomb, so I doubt he could surprise me.
“The picture you saw in our room, on the nightstand?”
“With the two kids?”
“Yea. That’s me and my sister. Lilien. She’s been… missing since we were kids. My parents and psychiatrists gaslit me that she never existed, so that’s all I have left to prove to myself she was real. Her body was never…”
My heart pounded, and I settled the fork down on my plate.
Lilien was his sister.
The photos I found on his computer were in a folder named after her.
“I have to find out what happened to her, and Lyn, I won’t stop at anything. The people who took her away from me are still alive, they’re still active, and they might be doing this to more kids.”
My heart broke for him. To not know what happened all these years, to not be able to grieve… It was a fate worse than death. At least then he’d have closure of some kind.
And I’d been sitting on a potential clue to find whoever took her.