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I hear her phone ring nearby and red flags go up.
The sound is from back in her bedroom and it’s on the nightstand, a book lying face down on top of it.
“Fuck!”
I disconnect and call Ricco. Tell him to get his ass over here now. I walk into the bathroom, see her makeup on the counter, the tube of mascara still open lying in the sink like she just walked away in the middle of putting some on. That’s when I notice the box in the trash can.
“Boss,” Ricco’s boots are heavy on the stairs.
I reach into the bin and take out the box. An unopened pregnancy test falls out. Falls next to the used one. My heart thuds against my chest and I reach in and pick it up. See the two little pink lines. Look at the box in my other hand to confirm what it means.
“I didn’t see her leave,” Ricco starts. “Fuck. I’ve been watching the front door all fucking day! She ran to the drug store, came back with a full bag and the TV went on. I figured she was staying in.”
I should have had Eric on her. Not this idiot.
But my mind is on what I’m holding. My eyes locked on those stripes. Pink. Delicate. Vulnerable.
I stick it into my pocket and turn to Ricco. “Where’s the dog?”
“Not here.”
“Why are you alone? Where’s the man I put with you?”
Ricco shakes his head, shift his gaze. “He had something come up.”
“Fuck that something. I’m fucking paying you imbeciles. Get his ass back here now. Get Eric here. Get a fucking army.”
I shove past him, down the stairs. He was watching the front door, which means she must have gone out the back.
The pregnancy test is burning a hole in my pocket as I step out the back door and into her tiny garden. I go to the only door in the fence, open it, hear the startled yelp of an old woman in the doorway of the house next door as a motion detector shines a light on me.
I stop, put my hands up, try to smile. Pepper gives a bark but comes to me. She was in the opposite corner of the garden doing her business. The woman exhales.
“Hey Pepper,” I say, making a show of crouching down to pat the old dog. Natalie wasn’t taken. She left. I need to find out where she went.
“Who’s there?” the old woman asks.
I look up at her. She’s wearing a long nightgown and a heavy, ragged sweater on top.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, ma’am. I’m Natalie’s friend. I wanted to drop some of her schoolwork off, but she wasn’t home. She must have forgotten I was coming.”
“Oh, that’s not like her. She’s not here. Gone for the weekend. Maybe longer. She’s sweet to still visit her parents.”
“That’s right. She mentioned she’d go see them. Shoot. I need to get the books I borrowed back to her. She needs them for a test.”
“They live clear out in Asbury Park, honey. Best to leave it all for her for when she’s back.”
“I don’t mind driving out there. You want me to take Pepper with me?”
“Oh, no. Pepper hates long drives.”
“I can’t remember the exact address of her parents’ house. You don’t happen to have it? I can call Natalie.” I take out my phone, start to press some numbers.
“I have it right here. Give me one minute.”
A moment later, I have Natalie’s parents’ address and am driving to Asbury Park.
She left. She clearly wanted to get away from me, but that wasn’t happening before I found out she was pregnant and it’s not happening now.
The sleepy town is dark when I arrive. I wonder how many residents leave in the winter. This close to the water and the weather can be icy. I do like it here though. It’s charming and the quiet is so opposite my life.
Natalie’s parents live on a cul-de-sac. Street lights give a dim glow to the otherwise pitch-black night. I park the car on the curb in front of her parents’ house. All the houses, including this one, are perfectly dark. I get out of the car and walk to the front door of the quaint yellow house, realizing how late it is as I climb the porch steps to ring the doorbell. But nothing happens when I push the button. Not a sound. I wonder if it’s broken.
I try the doorknob, expecting it to be locked, and it is.
Glancing around, I go down the porch steps and head around back. The backyard isn’t fenced off and it’s sandy back here. I can hear waves breaking on the beach and turn my collar up against the bitter wind.
Three steps lead up to the kitchen door. I knock on the window but no one’s inside. It’s dark. I jiggle the doorknob and it’s locked. I don’t want to break in, but seeing no alternative because I’m not about to go searching under freaking pots of plants for a spare key, I do. With my elbow, I bust the glass in one of the four panes, hear the clinking of it as it drops to the kitchen floor. I reach in, twist my arm to find the lock, turn it. I open the door and step over the glass and into the house.
