Chapter 15
Silas
Istood in my kitchen doing the dishes. Rosalie fell asleep not too long ago, but she had been sick for nearly three and a half days, and she still hadn’t been improving to the extent I would have liked her to.
She would be okay; her fever had subsided, but that cough—it was that cough I hated so much that lingered.
The sun was setting; the sky painted in bruised purples and fiery oranges. I, for one, never really cared for sunsets; then again, nothing could compare to Rosalie’s beauty. At least, not to me anyway. My stomach was in knots, gnawing anxiety that I simply could not ignore.
A loud series of knocks against my front door caused a fresh wave of panic to surge through me.
Uncle Joe was supposed to meet me at the diner for dinner, so why the fuck was he at my house?
He was the sheriff, a man of unwavering principals and a steel-trap mind.
He had always been a presence in my life.
A gruff, reliable figure and the closest thing I had to a father since my own had died with my mother when I was only a child.
I was eight when I lost them in that horrible car accident.
Though, my parents were never really good role models anyways.
His presence once brought me comfort, but now it felt like nothing more than a looming threat.
God damn it…
THUMP THUMP THUMP
“Come in!” I shouted, drying my hands with a dishtowel, forcing myself to appear calm and collected, yet my heart was hammering against my ribs. I glanced at the basement door. A heavy, oak door that separated her from us.
Please stay quiet Rosie…
Rosalie, my poor sweet Rosalie. The thought of her, feverish and weak, alone in the basement was a twisting knife within my heart.
The front door swung inward as Uncle Joe entered. His broad frame filled the doorway, casting a shadow that nearly swallowed half the kitchen. “Silas,” his tone was sharp. “Got a minute?” he asked. “I know we’re having dinner tonight, but I thought I would stop by since it’s been a while.”
“Of course, Uncle Joe,” I replied, trying to sound casual, as if this wasn’t a high stakes moment in my life.
“Come on in. Can I get you anything? Tea perhaps?” I gestured towards the pot I had on the stove.
The tea was originally intended for Rosalie to ease her throat, but it would unfortunately have to wait.
He nodded, dark brown eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail.
He was a meticulous man, much like myself.
One who noticed the subtle nuances of a scene.
I had the unsettling feeling he was looking for something.
“That sounds good,” he said, moving into the kitchen with deliberate grace. At the table, he set his hat down.
He knows… he has to know.
I cleared my throat, busying myself by pouring him a cup of tea.
My movements were deliberate, almost ritualistic in a day.
I imagined the possible scenarios. Questions, accusations, Rosalie being taken from me—I couldn’t bear the thought.
It was bad enough I had to leave her down there to go to work or get groceries, or worse.
What if I was incarcerated and she was left down there to rot? A shiver traveled down my spine.
Nope, enough of that.
Silence lingered for a few moments until Uncle Joe cut through that silence like a butter knife.
“So,” Uncle Joe began. I handed him his mug of tea, and he took a slow sip. “How are things going, kiddo?”
“Fine,” I replied, perhaps too quickly. “Everything’s fine. Just… you know, keeping busy.”
“Busy with what?” his tone was neutral, but his eyes seemed to pierce right through me.
Think of something… think of something.
“Oh, you know… my studies, work, the house. The usual,” I said, trying to sound convincing.
He nodded slowly. I could feel him cataloguing my responses, analyzing my body language. Uncle Joe placed his mug back onto the table. “I heard from Fabio down at the general store that he hasn’t seen you at work lately. Said you’ve been keeping to yourself.”
My heart lurched.
Fucking Fabio. I’m going to fucking smother that old man in his sleep, that son of a bitch I —
“Yeah,” I forced a casual shrug. “Been a little under the weather myself. A bug, you know. Nothing serious. That’s why I was at the general store the other day when you bumped into me.”
Please believe me.
He seemed to consider this for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. Then, he let out a sigh. “Well, you need to do better at taking care of yourself. You’ve been through a lot…”
I nodded. “I know.”
He shifted in his chair, his gaze moving around the room and towards the basement door. “What’s down there?”
My blood ran cold.
Fuck… he knows… how the fuck does he know…
I forced a wider smile, trying to appear unconcerned. “Oh, just storage. Winter clothes, tools, random things like that.”
He didn’t move, or break eye contact either. He was studying me. The silence between us was thick and suffocating. “I think I’ll take a look.” He stood up slowly.
I had to stop him.
I moved, acting on instinct, placing my hand on his arm.
“Actually, Uncle Joe, you know what? It’s a mess down there.
I haven’t gotten around to cleaning up yet.
Nothing worth looking at, I promise. Besides, we should probably head to the diner for dinner soon or we are going to be stuck waiting awhile because of the dinner rush. ”
He stopped, turning to look at me with his hand on the handle of the basement door. “Is there something you don’t want me to see?”
I forced out a laugh. A hollow, brittle sound. “No, of course not! It’s just damp and gross down there, and I wouldn’t want you to end up with whatever bug I am getting over. Plus, I am really hungry and looking forward to having dinner with you.”
He considered it for a moment, slowly letting go of the door. “You’re right. Friday nights are quite busy.”
Oh thank god, that was a close one…
Relief washed over me. “Great. Let me grab my jacket.”
I turned away. I needed to get him out of here… now. Before he changed his mind. I fumbled with my jacket, my mind racing. Turning back to Uncle Joe, I forced myself to appear calm and collected. “Ready?”
He nodded, walking out the door, I followed behind him.
The silence between us was heavy with unspoken questions.
As he started the engine, I took a deep breath.
I managed to buy myself time, but I wasn’t sure how much.
“So,” I said to Uncle Joe. “What kind of pie do you think you’ll indulge in today? ”
He chuckled, rolling his eyes as he started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. “Who says I’m getting pie?”
I tipped my head to the side, giving him the look.
He chuckled. “Cherry. Cherry sounds nice.”
“Always a good choice, Uncle Joe. Always a good choice.”
“The best choice, actually.”
I smiled, briefly glancing out the window. I shifted towards him, “Do you think Rosalie's disappearance is linked to the murders?”
Uncle Joe shook his head no, “No. Based on the investigation so far, it seems like she decided to skip town. Probably to pursue her dreams of Broadway or something but–” his eyes met mine, “The investigation is still ongoing.”
Maybe he doesn't suspect me, thank fuck.
“I hope that's the case.”
“Me too.” He replied, stopping at the red light a few blocks away from the diner.