214 Palmer Street(38)

He was quickly losing patience with her, but tried to stay on an even keel. “Then, I think we’re done talking. I don’t want to be rude, Clarice, but I have a few more calls to make.” Sarah called this voice his “smooth, charming guy persona.” Anything to finish this discussion and get what he wanted. “If you’d send me the text as soon as you can I’d really appreciate it. Thanks.” After disconnecting, he waited for the ping, which thankfully came only a few minutes later.

And there it was. A text from Sarah sent exactly when Clarice had specified. Apparently, she could tell the truth on occasion.

Hey, Clarice! I know we talked about getting together this weekend, but I’m leaving for a few days out of town, just me. When I get back I’ll give you a call.





This was followed by a heart emoji. Kirk read the words over and over again. He knew that on the surface, this message was reassuring. It didn’t sound like she’d been coerced, but it still nagged at him. Sarah wasn’t the type to do things impulsively. She was reliable and responsible. Leaving without notice and not taking her cell phone? He had a sick feeling something was seriously off.





TWENTY-TWO





Kirk stood in the kitchen and took a deep breath. All around him were reminders of his wife. The paint color on the walls—a dove grey, that they’d chosen together. The espresso maker his mother gave her as a birthday present. The dishtowels she’d picked up at Kohl’s the last time they’d shopped there together. He leaned his elbows against the countertop, and returned his gaze to his cell phone, willing it to ring, to be Sarah explaining what had happened. He blinked back the start of tears. Sarah was his whole world. Where could she have gone?

Once he had collected himself he called her sister, Maren, and a few of her other co-workers, including her boss, Brenda. None of them had heard from her. All of them promised to let him know if they did. Finally, he scrolled through his contacts until he came to Gavin’s name. His personal cell number, not the number at the police station. He pushed the button and when Gavin picked up, he said, “Sarah left me.” He thought he had tucked his emotions away, but now, despite his best efforts, his voice shook. He glanced down to see that the knuckles of the hand gripping the edge of the counter were white. “She left a note saying she just needed some time to herself, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Relax.” As usual, Gavin downplayed Kirk’s concerns, even before hearing the whole thing. “What exactly did the note say?”

Kirk read it aloud.

Gavin scoffed. “In her own words. A short vacation. Back in a few days. Love, Sarah. I’d say she’s fine. She’s just doing what we’d all like to do.”

“No,” Kirk said. “This is more than that. Something’s going on. I just can’t figure it out.”

“Kirk, you worry too much. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“You don’t understand. She’s been different lately. Argumentative.” Kirk thought back to a recent evening when she’d confronted him after visiting to the police station. He’d never have thought she’d go out walking on her own, especially not for such a distance. The therapist had suggested daily walks, but he’d been talking in terms of a few blocks. The police station was a mile and half from their house—a good walk under regular circumstances, but for a woman still recovering from a head injury it was unthinkable. At home she occasionally had to grab the wall from dizziness. He tried not to think about what would have happened if she’d had an episode of vertigo while walking outdoors and passed out on the roadway. She’d taken a huge chance going it alone.

Kirk had said to her, “I can’t believe you walked three miles. What if you’d collapsed along the way? Or been struck by a car crossing an intersection?”

She’d tilted her head and crossed her arms. “Why would I be hit by a car? Do you think I’d randomly wander into traffic?” From the look on her face she was upset by the inference she was incapable.

Truthfully, he had been worrying about how distracted she’d been lately, but he didn’t dare admit it now. “If I had known how badly you wanted to see the notes I would have driven you myself,” he said. “You know I would have rearranged my hours. I’d do anything for you.”

She’d softened then. “Yes, I know.”

“So the notes upset you. It’s understandable, but Gavin didn’t think they were anything to worry about.”

“I know that I never saw the last three notes. Just the first one.”

“You don’t remember seeing them,” he clarified, and felt a pang of guilt at the lie. At the time, he hadn’t told her about the subsequent notes, but had quietly passed them on to Gavin, who’d written up a report and thrown everything into a file. Kirk knew there would be no actual investigation, but wanted it on record in case it had escalated. He justified keeping it from Sarah because she’d been so upset upon seeing the first one. Honestly, his intent was to spare her, but he could see now that he’d made a big mistake.

“Don’t play games with me, Kirk Aden. I know that I never saw those notes. I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I resent you telling people I have brain damage.”

“I never told anyone you have brain damage.”