race out of the parking lot. I don’t know where I’m heading, but my hands seem to guide the wheel on their own. Past the grocery store. Past the park. Past the shopping mall. There’s no sign of her car anywhere.
But it’s not until I reach the Frazer Center—and once again see no sign of that beat up old sedan she refuses to get rid of—that the fear truly hits me. I pull into the parking lot and blow out a long breath, trying to calm my racing mind. Logically, I know there are a hundred perfectly safe places she could be, and I have no particular reason to believe she might be in harm’s way.
But logic and reason rarely govern my thoughts or actions when it comes to Lily. We’ve been through too much, and the thought of someone hurting her again makes something boil up inside of me. My hands are stiff from gripping the steering wheel, but I pry my fingers off the leather and reach for my phone.
There’s still no response to my call.
I press my fingers against my forehead. I need to think calmly and clearly. Lily can be rash—but she’s never arbitrarily so. She wouldn’t just take off without telling me. More likely she forgot to mention her plans to me… but that doesn’t seem like her either.
I’m resigning myself to another drive around the neighborhood when something catches my eye.
There’s a light on in the Center. Maybe a couple of lights—it’s hard to tell past the reflections of the street lamps in the Center’s windows. I turn off my car and stride across the parking lot to the door.
The building is unlocked, which is unusual considering there are no cars in the parking lot. My heart hammers against my ribs as I step into the dark lobby. Lily and David always keep the Center locked at night.
“Is someone here?” I call into the darkness.
There’s no answer, but there’s a soft glow of fluorescent light coming from a room down the hall. I march toward it, my hand curling into a fist at my side. When I’m halfway there, I realize it’s Lily’s office, and my steps quicken.
“Lily?” I say.
The office is empty. There are papers scattered across her desk, and her laptop—which she usually brings home with her—is still here. Still on—though it’s in standby. Her purse is tucked beneath her chair.
I should be relieved, but I’m not. And I won’t be until I see her. Why is her purse here if her car is gone?
“Lily?” I call again as I leave her office. I march down the hall toward the bathroom. There’s no light coming from beneath the door, but I push it open anyway. There’s no one there.
My fist is clenched so tightly that my fingers are starting to ache. I’m going to find her if I have to tear this entire place to the ground.
And then I see it as I come around a corner—another light. Coming from the gallery.
I run toward the door. I don’t know what I expect or what I plan to do, but there isn’t time to stop and consider. Lily might be hurt, or—
I freeze in the doorway.
Lily is lying on the floor, her body splayed awkwardly, her hair fanning out around her head. My world shrinks to nothing but her.
I don’t know how my feet move. I don’t remember deciding to walk, but suddenly I’m next to her, crouching down. My hand is still a fist, and it throbs with the force of the horror I’m facing. My breathing has stopped, and my mind can’t seem to make sense of this, even though another part of me is quite aware that the very thing I feared, the very thing I tried to tell myself couldn’t happen, is right in front of me.
I thought I was being ridiculous. I thought all those hours of overtime were getting to my head. I thought—
She stirs slightly. Moves. Her mouth parts slightly and a small sound escapes her lips.
I sit back, stunned. I know that sound. She makes it almost every night when she’s curled up asleep in my arms.
My eyes roam over her body. Now that she’s shifted, she looks a little more natural. Some of her hair has fallen
But it’s not until I reach the Frazer Center—and once again see no sign of that beat up old sedan she refuses to get rid of—that the fear truly hits me. I pull into the parking lot and blow out a long breath, trying to calm my racing mind. Logically, I know there are a hundred perfectly safe places she could be, and I have no particular reason to believe she might be in harm’s way.
But logic and reason rarely govern my thoughts or actions when it comes to Lily. We’ve been through too much, and the thought of someone hurting her again makes something boil up inside of me. My hands are stiff from gripping the steering wheel, but I pry my fingers off the leather and reach for my phone.
There’s still no response to my call.
I press my fingers against my forehead. I need to think calmly and clearly. Lily can be rash—but she’s never arbitrarily so. She wouldn’t just take off without telling me. More likely she forgot to mention her plans to me… but that doesn’t seem like her either.
I’m resigning myself to another drive around the neighborhood when something catches my eye.
There’s a light on in the Center. Maybe a couple of lights—it’s hard to tell past the reflections of the street lamps in the Center’s windows. I turn off my car and stride across the parking lot to the door.
The building is unlocked, which is unusual considering there are no cars in the parking lot. My heart hammers against my ribs as I step into the dark lobby. Lily and David always keep the Center locked at night.
“Is someone here?” I call into the darkness.
There’s no answer, but there’s a soft glow of fluorescent light coming from a room down the hall. I march toward it, my hand curling into a fist at my side. When I’m halfway there, I realize it’s Lily’s office, and my steps quicken.
“Lily?” I say.
The office is empty. There are papers scattered across her desk, and her laptop—which she usually brings home with her—is still here. Still on—though it’s in standby. Her purse is tucked beneath her chair.
I should be relieved, but I’m not. And I won’t be until I see her. Why is her purse here if her car is gone?
“Lily?” I call again as I leave her office. I march down the hall toward the bathroom. There’s no light coming from beneath the door, but I push it open anyway. There’s no one there.
My fist is clenched so tightly that my fingers are starting to ache. I’m going to find her if I have to tear this entire place to the ground.
And then I see it as I come around a corner—another light. Coming from the gallery.
I run toward the door. I don’t know what I expect or what I plan to do, but there isn’t time to stop and consider. Lily might be hurt, or—
I freeze in the doorway.
Lily is lying on the floor, her body splayed awkwardly, her hair fanning out around her head. My world shrinks to nothing but her.
I don’t know how my feet move. I don’t remember deciding to walk, but suddenly I’m next to her, crouching down. My hand is still a fist, and it throbs with the force of the horror I’m facing. My breathing has stopped, and my mind can’t seem to make sense of this, even though another part of me is quite aware that the very thing I feared, the very thing I tried to tell myself couldn’t happen, is right in front of me.
I thought I was being ridiculous. I thought all those hours of overtime were getting to my head. I thought—
She stirs slightly. Moves. Her mouth parts slightly and a small sound escapes her lips.
I sit back, stunned. I know that sound. She makes it almost every night when she’s curled up asleep in my arms.
My eyes roam over her body. Now that she’s shifted, she looks a little more natural. Some of her hair has fallen
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