Heart-Shaped Hack(64)
Ian: I love you, sweetness. So much.
That made her smile.
Kate: I love you too.
By four thirty, when Kate walked home from the Pilates class she’d taken after work, the sky had turned dark and rain was falling. She’d forgotten to bring an umbrella and the icy drops pelted her cheeks. Ducking her head, she quickened her step, but by the time she walked in the door of her apartment her hair was soaked. In the bathroom, she stripped off her wet clothes and turned on the water, waiting until it turned hot and steamy. After her shower, she wrapped herself in her robe and sat down on the couch, throwing a blanket over her lap. She clicked on the TV and listened to the Channel 5 meteorologist issue a winter storm warning for the overnight hours. Kate groaned. March snowstorms were the worst: icy, slushy, heavy, and wet. The rain would soon be changing to snow and the National Weather Service predicted totals of six to eight inches for the area, along with high winds.
Kate: Looks like you got that drive in right under the wire. I hope the Shelby has now been returned to its spot at the storage facility. Come home and keep me warm! Let’s order in.
She watched the rest of the newscast, and when it was over she picked up her phone. Ian hadn’t responded yet, and Kate hoped that meant he was on his way. She was excited to talk to him about North Carolina. The food pantry had been slow that day, and she’d spent some time in the afternoon reading about Charlotte. She dreaded turning in her resignation, but she was starting to look forward to the move and planned on breaking the news to her parents in the next day or two. Her mother would be happy for Kate, and even if she did have a few reservations, she probably wouldn’t utter them. Her dad might be a different story, but telling him she was going with Ian would likely go over better than when she told him she was going to stop practicing law. He’d probably try to convince her to return to it now that she’d no longer be responsible for the food pantry.
Kate felt a slight prickle of unease when Ian had not arrived by seven. She opened the app on her phone to track him and clicked on Ian’s Phone. But instead of a pinpoint on a map she got the word Offline. Her forehead creased in confusion. Was there a problem with the app? He wouldn’t have turned off the location function, would he? She called him, but it went straight to voice mail.
Kate set the phone on the coffee table and went to the window. The rain had changed to snow and was coming down hard, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle in his SUV. The Shelby, however, would be a different story. The temperature had plummeted and the wet streets would be icy under the layer of snow. The rear-wheel-drive car would be helpless in those conditions.
She fidgeted, unable to keep still, and she paced as the hours crept by. At eleven she drove to his apartment. The roads were horrible, and she had to fight to keep the TrailBlazer from fishtailing and sliding through intersections. When she arrived, she went to the main entrance to buzz him since she didn’t have a key. She pushed the button on the intercom for fifteen seconds straight and waited a full minute between each attempt. There was only silence in return.
Finally she went home.
She spent the night in the chair by the window, watching the snowflakes as they passed through the beam of the streetlight, her emotions cycling rapidly between frustration and fear, confusion and resignation. She wanted to heave something at the glass, feel the satisfaction and hear the crash when it shattered.
Every twenty minutes, she’d tap Ian’s Phone on the app.
Every time it said Offline.
Though he’d promised he wouldn’t, he’d left without telling her. There was no other logical reason for why he was not curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace with her.
She watched the sky lighten as the sun came up. At seven, she decided she would try his apartment again. Fighting tears, she pulled on her boots and wrapped a scarf around her neck. The roads were still a mess, and it took longer than usual to get downtown. She drove carelessly, her mind occupied by more important things.
A man wearing a dark gray sweatshirt with the hood up was sitting on a bench in the entryway of Ian’s building. Kate ignored him and crossed to the bank of intercoms, angrily jabbing the button for Ian’s apartment. No buzzer sounded in return, no voice spoke to her through the speaker.
Goddamn you, Ian.
She stood there, trying to figure out what to do next. Should she wait? If she called the rental office and told them she was worried about him, would they let her in? Tears filled her eyes, and she exhaled in frustration and swiped at them with the back of her hand. The man in the hooded sweatshirt was watching her, and Kate turned away because she didn’t want him to know she was crying. If he asked her what was wrong, she’d probably break down sobbing. Kate decided that if she didn’t hear from Ian by noon, she would call the rental office. And if they let her in and she discovered his things were gone, she had no idea what she’d do.
On the West River Parkway, traffic came to a crawl at Second Street South near the Stone Arch Bridge. It was a little before eight, and at first she attributed the delay to the street conditions and morning rush hour. But as she inched closer, she noticed the people standing in front of a chain-link fence and how the fence was mangled like something had driven right through it. She hadn’t come this way last night, had chosen instead to reach downtown via Hennepin Avenue.
Behind the fence was an embankment, and below that the Mississippi River. Traffic had all but stopped by then, and a few curious motorists, frustrated with the delay, got out of their cars and went to get a closer look. Kate wished she hadn’t taken this route. She wanted to get home. What if Ian was there now?