Chapter 3
None of the pictures that had been splayed out in
front of me or had been included in the most disturbing photo album ever were
of the men I’d seen in the alley.
Strangely, I felt like I had failed.
I wanted to be able to point at someone and say that was
them. The bad guys would be found, and all of this would be over. I wanted that
so badly.
But that was not what happened.
Colton had been called out toward the end and even though
he’d said he’d be back, I hadn’t seen him while I was ushered out of the police
station and guided to my car by Detective Hart.
They’d be in touch.
I had no idea what that meant and I was too exhausted to
figure it out. The drive from the city to the townhouse I’d purchased when I
moved back wasn’t particularly quick, even at damn near close to three in the
morning. By some kind of miracle, I made it home, parked my car, and hobbled up
the steps and let myself in. It was only then that I remembered that my one
heel was broken. I didn’t recall how I got the shoe back. Maybe Officer Hun?
Or was it Colton?
God.
Please not Colton.
I really didn’t need him knowing that I was near caveman
size when it came to my feet.
Flipping the light on inside, I quickly closed the door
behind me and kicked off my ruined shoes. My pinched toes sighed in relief as I
stared up at the narrow staircase directly in front of the door. More than
anything I wanted to climb those steps and throw myself into my bed, but I felt
disgustingly dirty and my throat felt like the Mojave Desert.
The section of townhouses had been built in the early
nineties so the entire first floor rocked the whole open concept. The living
room area was cozy with a couch and chair, situated around a TV and coffee
table. The space opened right into a dining room that I honestly never used.
Most of my dinners were on the couch. All the appliances had been new in the
kitchen, and I’d fallen in love with the gray granite countertops the moment I
walked into it.
I turned on the light in the kitchen and went straight to
the fridge. Diets be damned. I picked up a can of Coke, popped the lid, and
nearly drank all of it while the fridge door was still open, throwing out cold
air.
“God,” I whispered, lowering the can slowly as I closed the
fridge door. “Tonight…”
There were no words.
I turned around and walked out of the kitchen, carrying my
can of soda and purse with me. As I walked back through the dining area, my
gaze fell over the framed photos nailed to the wall. When I moved in, it had
taken me nearly two years to hang those portraits.
Some were easier than others. Like the picture of me and the
girls from college, standing in Times Square, or the really terrible college
graduation photo. For some reason, I ended up looking cross-eyed in it. Most
people would want to hide the photo, but it made me laugh.
It had made Kevin laugh.
My gaze tracked over to the photo of my parents. It had been
taken in their home, in the kitchen I’d grown up in. It had been Thanksgiving
morning and Dad had snuck up on Mom, wrapping his arms around her waist from
behind. Both were smiling happily.
They passed away in a car accident my second year of
college. It had been a huge blow, shattering. Dealing with the loss of both
parents at once had been nearly impossible, but na?vely, I had believed that
would be the only real loss I’d suffer. I mean, come on, what was the
statistical probability of losing another loved one to something as unfair and
unpredictable as another car accident?
The only photo I had hanging of Kevin was the one of him
standing alone at our wedding, dressed in the tux he’d rented from a cheap
wedding shop in town. It was outside, in the bright July sun, and he was more
golden than blond. I loved this photo so much because it captured the warmth in
his brown eyes.
That was Kevin. Always warm. Always welcoming. He was the
kind of person who never met a stranger. I pressed my lips together as I stared
at his boyishly handsome face. As the months had turned into years, it became
harder and harder to pull his features from memory alone. The same with my
parents. There were days when all of them would appear in my mind as clear as
day, while other days they were nothing more than a ghost.
I’d loved Kevin. I still did. And I missed him. We had been
high school sweethearts, and he’d been the only man I’d been with. Looking
back, I knew we didn’t have the kind of passion that curled the toes or woke
you up in the middle of the night, wet and ready, and we were simply…familiar
with one another, but we loved each other.
And I didn’t regret a second I spent with him.
I just regretted the moments afterward because I knew that
Kevin would’ve wanted me to move on, to find someone else to love. He wouldn’t
want me to be alone.
My throat clogged and I briefly squeezed my eyes shut
against the rush of tears. Holding it together, I trudged on, heading upstairs.
There were three bedrooms, but one of them was barely large enough to hold a
bed, so it had become my office. Which was perfect because the room faced the
backyard and the garden down below, enabling me to procrastinate for hours when
I should be working.
I passed the tiny hallway bedroom and entered the master at
the front of the townhouse. The room was spacious, complete with its walk-in
closet and attached master bath. The Jacuzzi tub had become my best friend
forever since I moved in.
Flipping on the nightstand light, I walked my purse over to
the dove-gray sitting chair near the door. I dug my phone out and then plugged
it into the charger on the nightstand. All I wanted to do was plop face first
onto the bed, but I went into the bathroom and peeled off my clothes. I started
to dump them in the laundry basket, but instead, I rolled them up in a ball,
panties and bra included, to take down to the trash in the morning. I didn’t
want to wear the clothing again, let alone see it.
Tired, I cranked the water up and waited with my back to the
mirror above the sink for the water to heat up to near scalding temps, the way
I liked it.
I tried not to look at myself in the mirror when I was
completely nude.
I didn’t like to see my reflection.
I wasn’t…comfortable with it.
It wasn’t the tiny dimples or the roundness of certain parts
of my body that made me uncomfortable. It wasn’t physical. Or maybe it was,
because I hadn’t felt…attached to my own skin in a while. I knew that sounded
crazy, but it was almost like I no longer even knew my own body. It was
something that I wore. I wasn’t intimate with it beyond using my trusty
vibrator every so often. Maybe I’d just gone too long without intimacy.
And tonight, for the first time in years, I actually felt something
when Colton had touched my chin. And how sad was that? The guy had touched my
chin and that was the closest to physical interaction I’d gotten since Kevin.
This was the last thing I wanted to think about tonight. My
body ached as if I had overexerted myself as I stepped under the steady spray.
The shower felt like the longest of my life and slipping on the worn Penn State
shirt and thin, cotton shorts was literally a chore.
Finally, after what felt like forever, I was in bed, but I
couldn’t sleep. I stared at the silently spinning ceiling fan and I couldn’t
stop thinking about the man who died tonight. Did he have a family? A wife who
was going to be getting that horrific knock on the door? Did he have kids? Were
his parents still alive and would soon be burying their son? Would they ever
catch the man responsible?
Did I have something to fear?
Reaching over, I picked up the remote and turned the TV on,
keeping the volume low, but it did nothing to stop the steady stream of
thoughts.
I’d seen someone die.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I rolled over onto my side and for
the first time in years, I cried myself to sleep.
The following morning, I stood directly in front of
my coffee maker, bleary-eyed and impatient as I waited for pure happiness to
stop percolating. All I’d managed to do so far was scoop up my hair and toss it
up in a messy twist, but already, shorter strands were either slipping free or
sticking out in every direction.
In other words, I looked like a hot mess, but I really
didn’t care as I poured the steaming coffee into a cup halfway full of sugar,
and I still stood there, taking my first drink, my second, and my third as the
cool tile seeped through my bare feet.
I’d overslept.
Well, sleeping past eight a.m. nowadays was sleeping in. It
was close to nine before I dragged myself out of bed. It wasn’t that big of a
deal. The only thing I had planned later in the day was to meet up with Jillian
Lima for dinner.
Jillian and I met each other at a book signing in the city.
She was almost ten years younger than me, but the age difference had quickly
evaporated. Jillian was a hard cookie to crack. She was almost debilitating
shy, but love of books crosses all barriers. We bonded over our favorite
authors and themes, and once she discovered what I did for a living, she
started to open up.
For the last year, we met every Saturday night to discuss
books over dinner. Sometimes we’d grab a movie or head to the bookstore, and I
was going to miss her. In the spring, she would be transferring to a college in
West Virginia. I still didn’t know why she was doing that. That was a little
nugget of info I couldn’t wiggle out of her.
I’d just topped off my cup of coffee when the doorbell rang,
surprising me. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Leaving the cup on the counter, I
padded across the floor and peered out the front window, but since there were
always cars I didn’t recognize parked out front, that made no difference.
Rolling my eyes, I reached for the door handle, cursing the fact that there
wasn’t a peephole in the door.
My jaw unhinged on a sharp inhale, and the ability to form
comprehensive thoughts fled.
Colton Anders, in all his blue-eyed babe glory, stood on my
stoop. “Good morning, Abby.”