Chapter 3

At two in the afternoon, the reception area on the first floor of the forensics center suddenly got noisy.

A woman with a ponytail stormed in, blocking the front desk. "Hey! Have you guys received a missing persons report for someone named Emily Foster?"

The receptionist jumped, startled. "Ma'am, please calm down. Missing persons reports have to be filed at the police station."

"I already did. They told me they can't open a case unless it's been forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours? She's been gone for a whole month!" Chloe Reed yelled.

I floated near the ceiling of the lobby, watching her.

She was my best friend. We'd been close for ten years since college.

She was a year older than me, quick to lose her temper, and loud. She owned a little flower shop, always carrying the scent of lilies mixed with fresh earth.

Today, she had on a wrinkled coat, her hair thrown up in a messy ponytail. The dark circles under her eyes were so heavy that they looked like someone had drawn them on with a marker.

She'd been looking for me for half a month.

The receptionist made an internal call.

A few minutes later, Samuel came down from the third floor.

Winona followed behind him, keeping the right distance.

As soon as Chloe saw Samuel, her face darkened. "Samuel, where the hell is Emily?"

"How would I know?" Samuel replied.

"You're her husband," Chloe shot back.

"She didn't say goodbye when she left. Do you think I know where she went?" Samuel asked.

Chloe bit the inside of her lip. That was her way of holding back her anger. I knew that look all too well.

"Can't you try to look for her? Call the police, post on Instagram, or shoot her a text asking if she's okay. Anything is better than what you are doing now," Chloe said.

"I've already messaged her," Samuel replied, his voice flat. "She didn't reply. She always goes silent when she's mad. You know that.

"Before, she'd call me back after five days, tops. But this time, it's been a month, and she hasn't answered any of my calls. Don't you think that's strange?" Chloe asked.

"Maybe she changed her number. She did that last time, too," Samuel said.

Chloe took a deep breath and turned to Winona. "Winona, when was the last time you saw her?"

Winona tilted her head, as if thinking hard. "I think it was the afternoon she left. She came to the center to see Sam. They argued, and then she walked out."

"What were they arguing about?" Chloe pressed.

"Well..." Winona glanced at Samuel and lowered her voice. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"What's so hard to talk about?" Chloe stepped forward, her voice rising. "Listen up, Winona. Emily never talked behind anyone's back with me. So don't think—"

"Ms. Reed, I wasn't implying anything," Winona said, taking a step back, her voice even softer. "I don't want to discuss their relationship out here."

That retreat made Chloe look like she was bullying Winona.

Samuel frowned. "Chloe, if you have something to say, say it to me. Don't make things hard for Winona."

Chloe clenched her fists. "Making things hard for her? Samuel, your wife has been missing for a month. You're not looking for her, but you're all concerned about some outsider instead?"

"Winona is my colleague," Samuel said.

"A colleague who brings you breakfast every morning, stays late with you every night, and treats you better than your wife does?" Chloe shot back.

Winona gently tugged at Samuel's sleeve and whispered, "Sam, don't argue with her. She's anxious now."

Chloe stared at Winona's hand, which was clutching Samuel's sleeve. She bit her lip so hard that it left a white mark. "Samuel, let me lay it out straight. If anything happens to Emily, you'll never forgive yourself."

Samuel just stood there, not bothering to go after her.

Winona said softly, "Don't mind her. She's only got a quick temper."

"Yeah," Samuel replied, turning to head for the stairs.

*****

I drifted behind Chloe, watching her push open the front door and step outside.

She stood on the steps and bent over with her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and hit my number again.

However, what she got was a sweet female voice. " Sorry, the subscriber you dialed is powered off."

Her hand, still holding the phone, slowly dropped to her side.

I crouched down next to her and reached out to touch her hair, but my hand slipped right through her shoulder.

Chloe, I was right here.

But I couldn't answer your calls anymore.

She suddenly straightened up, wiped her face, and strode toward the curb.

She'd taken the bus here, but now she flagged down a cab.

I didn't go with her.

I drifted back up to the third floor.

Verena sat at her desk, her eyes locked onto her computer screen, unmoving.

The screen displayed the fracture report. One hand rested on the keyboard, while the other wiped the right lens of her glasses with the corner of her shirt, again and again.

She'd wiped it five or six times, and the lens was so spotless that it could reflect her face. Yet, she kept wiping.