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The ringing stops as he hits the Accept button.
“Hello?” he answers with a shaken voice.
The silence that follows couldn’t be any longer.
Brazen listens, and Beth and I sit on pins and needles until he grumbles out a response, “Okay, we’ll see you soon.” He ends the call and lets out a rattled breath. “The officer in charge of the case is on his way over. He has news,” Brazen announces with zero inflection.
“Did they find her? Is Sunday okay?” There is so much hope in Beth’s questions.
“He wouldn’t say over the phone. He just said he’d be here shortly to speak with us.”
And so, we wait while our coffees turn cold on the counter around us. I check the time on my phone what seems like every thirty seconds, and it takes approximately six minutes before the doorbell rings. Brazen leads the way as we all go to the door.
No words.
No greeting.
Just a look.
With one look at the officer’s face, I know he isn’t here with good news. Nothing about the way he approaches us says, We found your loved one, alive and well.
“No.” Brazen can read the room, too, as his denial flies from his lips.
Beth moves to stand closer to her son. I hang back, bracing for the news.
“I’m sorry.” The officer looks Brazen in the eyes. “They found Sunday’s body.”
