AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Are you really so sure about Abby?” He shifted again until he sat on her side of the bed and his hand skimmed over the robe covering her thigh. “She was... flighty? Free-spirited? I don’t know the right words, actually. But she was always late for things. She forgot to come to a dinner once because she got caught up in a design she was making.”
He wasn’t wrong. Where Candace had been all business and talked about corporate expansion and other subjects that held little interest for Elisa, Abby was far less constrained by schedules and plans. She saw the world in a different way, through colors and light. She talked about how she could waste the entire day trying to put a feeling on the page or trying to find the right shade of yellow. She sometimes got an idea for some design and spent hours locked in the studio she rented, losing all track of time.
None of that meant she ran away from Josh. “Being forgetful or getting lost in her work is different from going missing.”
He shook his head. “Look, I was disappointed, too. You cared about her.”
There was that damned past tense she avoided at all costs. “Care.I care about her.”
“I thought Abby was good for Josh. She could defuse his anger and redirect his frustration. With her, he had control and focus. He didn’t obsess about stupid things.” Harris closed his eyes as if he’d gotten stuck reliving those times. When he opened them again he looked clear-eyed and ready to argue. “He can be exhausting and, frankly, immature. He’s much better than he used to be, but maybe Abby had enough. The police thought this was a simple case of a grown adult wanting a different life. Happens all the time.”
That sounded like gibberish to Elisa. “Has this ‘wanting a different life’ thing happened to anyone else we know?”
His mouth flattened into a thin line. “No.”
Adults, even irresponsible ones, checked in with someone. “Why hasn’t she called me? Why is her phone disconnected? Why not leave a note so I wouldn’t worry?”
He shrugged. “She’s probably embarrassed or worried you’re angry with her.”
More guilt slammed into her, but she pushed it away. Kept treading just to keep breathing. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I doubt it’s even dawned on her that you could be standing here, spinning wild thoughts about her being abducted or kidnapped.”
Wild thoughts. As if women didn’t get abducted every singleday. As if partner abuse wasn’t a thing. “That sort of horrible stuff actually does happen.”
“Not to anyone we know. That’s Friday-night-true-crime-show stuff.”
“What if—”
“No, look.” He took her hand. “I know Josh took a shot at you and brought up the one thing you don’t want to talk about. He shouldn’t have, but you have to admit the timing of when Abby left might be part of the problem here. It could color your thoughts now.”
The timing. Abby had disappeared months after that awful day. Elisa fought the usual rush of memories. Scenes flashed in her mind. The blood. That gasp.
Pain in her chest ramped up, built and tightened until it wrapped around her in a suffocating hold. She dropped Harris’s hand and pressed her palm against the side of her head. Then to her throat, fighting off the wave of feverish heat that poured through her. “No.”
Tension swept through the room. “Elisa.”
“I’m fine. This isn’t about that day. This is about Abby and Josh.” Her hands shook and her knees kept buckling as if her weight was suddenly too much to carry.
She tried to lean into the side of the mattress as she reached down. Air refused to fill her lungs. She dragged in breath after breath, hearing the ragged edge as she struggled to regain control.
Her fingers fumbled against a knob on the nightstand drawer. She yanked and pulled until it opened. The lockbox sat right there.
“Elisa . . .”
Her head snapped up and she saw the sadness in his eyes. “Please don’t judge me.”
He glanced at her hand, then to the unopened box. “I’m not, but I do worry.”
That she’d finally lost it. He didn’t say the words, but they hung in the silence between them.
She crashed through the anxiety by focusing on Abby. On what happened to her. On why she left and couldn’t check in.
“I worry about Abby.” Elisa had said the words so many times, out loud and in her head, that they felt small. Not nearly as all-consuming as missing her felt.
“She’s fine. Probably sitting in a café on the West Coast drinking coffee.”
So casual. So unconcerned. She tried to imagine feeling that cavalier about a woman’s safety. “That feels so dismissive.”
