It’s not entirely a lie. I really do need to get back into the painting, but I’m more curious about what Theodore left behind.
Nodding, my father says, “Sure, honey, but only if you let me drive you. I don’t want you alone this late at night.”
It’s an easy compromise. I don’t entirely want to be alone either, and since I know Theodore isn’t there waiting for me, I have nothing to worry about.
The rest of the meal went on happily. We talked and laughed, and when we were finished, we helped my mom clean up before snuggling on the couch for a movie.
It’s my mother’s night to choose, which usually means Rom-Com.
I’m shocked and pleasantly surprised when she skips over Pretty Woman and Sixteen Candles, going straight for Fatal Attraction. It’s one of my favorites, so I don’t mind, but it’s a little dark for my mom.
“I want to see Michael Douglas fear for his life,” is her only explanation. My father and I share an unsettled glance before bursting into a fit of laughter.
“If that’s what you need, sweetheart,” my father says, still chuckling while pulling her in for a kiss.
Once the movie finishes, Mom goes upstairs to shower, and Dad drives me to the loft. He rubs my hand the entire way, just as he did when I was a little girl. It’s his way of showing affection when he can’t find the words.
“You’re going to find her, Daddy. You always do.”
In the shadows of the car, I watch his face fall. It breaks my heart.
“I can only do my best, sweetheart. But I could never promise that.”
I know his mind is on the little boy from back home. About three years ago, a child no older than five went missing from his front yard. His parents weren’t watching him. Instead, they were somewhere in the back, cooking up crystal while high off their asses.
His name was Andrew Lieberman, and he was last seen by his neighbors at five-fifteen in the afternoon. Some say they saw him wander into the cornfield, but my father and his team scoured the entire plot. There was no Andrew, not even a trace of him.
Others swear they saw him walk off with some woman. With no cameras or clear descriptions, they never found that woman or little Andrew. The closest thing my father discovered were two tiny gloves thrown off to the side of the road.
They were covered in blood.
This was the case that broke my dad and had him transferring over to homicide.
Andrew Lieberman was the only case my father couldn’t solve, and it’s haunted him since. If he doesn’t find this girl, I know it’ll tear him apart.
“I love you, Daddy,” I remind him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before unbuckling my seatbelt. He doesn’t let me walk alone. Hand against my back, we head inside, walking straight past the front desk to my room at the end of the hall.
The lights flicker above our heads while I unlock the door. I would’ve felt its eeriness had my dad not been with me. Maybe it’s the missing girl or the remembrance of Andrew, but suddenly I don’t feel like being alone in the middle of nowhere. I’ll just see what Theodore left for me, grab my painting, and go home.
“Actually, Daddy, I don’t feel like staying here tonight. Let me just run inside and grab my things. I’ll meet you at the car.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, head tilting to the side while watching me with grieving eyes.
“Yeah,” I promise, sensing that he needs all of us tonight.
With heavy shoulders and weighted stomps, I stare as he strolls back to the car, the weight of the world on his back. Then, making a mental note not to let him be alone tonight, I enter the loft.
I can smell his clean, piney scent as soon as I walk through the door. It permeates the air, clearing my lungs, so they’re filled with nothing but him.
Looking around for a moment, I search for this mysterious gift. I don’t see it at first, but then my eyes land on the window ledge, and the love I feel for Theodore threatens to stop my heart.
Cherry lotion, cotton candles, and a single, long-stemmed rose wait for me across the room, with a folded note reading:For you, pretty girl.
With a smile, I stroll toward the white slip and pull it from the ledge.
Beaming, I fold the note and press it to my thumping heart. Then, after hiding it in a drawer, I pluck the blossomed red rose from the window and carefully tuck it into my purse.
As I leave, my eyes go to the cabinet. More specifically, they find the visible edge of the false door. That’s weird… It was covered last time I was here.Or, at least, I thought it was.
