Page 21 of Art of Love

He pulled into Max and Juliette’s gravel driveway just after one-thirty in the morning, the headlights casting long, dancing shadows over the front of the buildings. The horses were no doubt asleep in the quiet barn, and the night air was still, heavy with salt and summer.

A full moon hung in the cloudless sky. He parked near the front steps, climbed out, and took a deep breath. He stared up at the star-filled sky for a moment before he started unloading the mountain of wedding gifts.

He moved on autopilot as he stacked boxes inside the front hallway. His muscles were tired and his feet ached, but his mind was elsewhere. On Dylan. On the way she didn’t try to flatter him or appease him. Her words carried weight. He liked that.

He was setting down the last wrapped box when something inside the house shifted.

A soft creak.

A muffled footstep.

Abe froze.

He glanced towards the stairs, his heart suddenly thudding against his ribs. The light flickered above him as he stepped towards the sound.

He hadn’t been quiet before, so if someone was in there, they knew he was there.

Inside, the old house was quiet, save for the soft ticking of the antique clock in the entryway.

A second noise, upstairs this time. Light. Quick. Like someone trying not to be heard.

He didn’t call out. He just moved silently, grabbing a fireplace poker from beside the stone hearth as he crept down the hallway towards the stairs. At the top, the hallway stretched in both directions, moonlight streaming in from a window at the end.

For a split second, he thought he saw an old man standing under the light. Then he blinked and realized it was a painting that hung on the wall. His heart started beating again, but then there was another soft noise. Another shuffle.

He moved towards Max’s office just as a shadow darted from the spare bedroom he’d been staying in. He froze for a split second, then followed suit as the figure raced out of the open doorway in Max and Juliette’s bedroom.

“Hey!” he shouted, and rushed after the shadow, arriving on the deck just in time to see the figure in dark clothing sprinting across the backyard, heading for the tree line.

He cursed, leaning over the railing to try to get a better look, but the figure had disappeared into the night, swallowed by the trees and brush.

He rushed back through the house, flipping on every light and sweeping each room methodically. Nothing was missing. Nothing was out of place. Whoever it was, they hadn’t taken anything. Or maybe they hadn’t found what they were looking for.

Abe stood in the middle of the room he’d been staying in, jaw clenched. His grip on the fireplace poker had tightened without him realizing it. The adrenaline was fading, and a chill crept down his spine.

Was it just a coincidence that they had been in his room? One of the drawers to the nightstand was opened slightly. Leaning down, he opened it and instantly knew that it was the noise he’d heard, alerting him earlier.

Nothing was in there except a book he’d borrowed from Max’s library and had started reading two nights before. He looked in the other nightstand, where he kept his phone charger, his wallet when he was there, and some condoms, just in case.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he felt another shiver race down his back. In the end, he decided not to tell Max and Juliette. Not yet. They deserved peace on their honeymoon, not a panic. Instead, he made a mental note to check the new security system Max had installed, and shown him how to use, first thing in the morning.

Just to be safe. But right now, he was exhausted.

Over the next half hour, he made sure the horses were okay and double-checked every window and door before crawling into bed around three in the morning.

The next day, after feeding the horses and gulping down two cups of bitter black coffee, Abe sat at Max’s desk and pulled up the camera feeds on the large monitor.

The timestamp blinked.

12:47 a.m.–2:13 a.m.

The footage was missing. Not blacked out. Not fuzzy. Just missing.

He stared at the screen for a long time.

All of the footage was just... gone. No recordings. Just a dead space.

Whoever had been inside the house knew what they were doing.

And that unsettled him more than anything else.

Was this about all the recent questions from the press about his past? He shivered. Did this have anything to do with Kara?