Page 86 of Before Broken Vows

I move to the coffee machine and start it, just going through the motions of brewing a pot: add water, add filter, pour in grounds, press red button.

Maybe they're outside.

That's something they've done before, an early morning walk around the garden to "check on the trees," as Xander puts it.

I pour myself a cup of coffee and step outside. The morning air is crisp, carrying the scent of olive and citrus trees. I take one slow sip, letting the warmth calm me. The garden stretches before me, and it looks so beautiful in the morning sun. I can see why Theo likes sitting out here.

It's peaceful, and it's a nice luxury to have now, especially before the day begins and we leave for Greece.

I take another sip, scanning the area.

That's when I see it.

Just past the edge of the pool. Near the outdoor grill and the shaded lounge area. Something small and orange in the dirt.

I set my cup down and walk toward it. My stomach tightens as I move closer.

I squint.

No, it can't be.

When I'm a few yards away, I know it instantly.

Xander's plastic tiger.

His new "most favoritest" toy. The one Theo got him at the zoo yesterday so he could have a tiger to protect him. The one he'd been clutching when he finally fell asleep last night.

When I get close enough, I see the toy is broken. One leg snapped off, its painted face crushed inward. It's lying at a weird angle, half-sunk into the soil like someone stomped it deliberately into the ground.

"Xander?" I call out. My pulse quickens. "Marlena?"

I spin on my heels and sprint back to the villa.

"Xander?" I shout, my voice cracking. "Xander! Marlena!"

I run inside, my pulse hammering in my ears as I race down the hallway.

"Xander!" I call again, my voice higher now, edged with panic. "Xander, baby, where are you?"

I burst into his bedroom. The dinosaur bedspread is rumpled, twisted like someone yanked it hastily aside. His pillow sits on the floor. The little nightlight shaped like a stegosaurus still glows softly in the corner.

But no Xander.

I feel the air sucked from my lungs as I stare at the space where my son should be, where his little body should be curled beneath the covers, his dark hair splayed across the pillow, mouth slightly open in sleep.

"Xander?" The word comes out choked.

I drop to my knees, checking under the bed, a stupid, desperate action. As if my three-year-old would be hiding there, playing some elaborate game of hide-and-seek at seven in the morning.

I push myself up, lungs burning as I try to catch my breath, and rush to check Marlena's room, though I already know what I'll find.

Empty. Bed made. Her reading glasses sit on the nightstand beside a half-finished novel. Her slippers are missing and so is she.

"Marlena?" My voice is shrill now. "Marlena, are you here?"

I try to think rationally. Maybe they went for breakfast? Maybe they're playing in another room? Maybe they're outside for a walk in town?

But what about the tiger?