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Julia

Julia inhaled the scent of sunscreen, but it didn’t evoke the nostalgic memories of vacation it usually did.

It had been over twenty-four hours since they reported Fiona missing, and despite the efforts of the professional search and rescue teams scouring the woods and water, there’d been no sign of her.

She was heartsick. It didn’t matter if Fiona was a close friend or not—she was a human being with loved ones who cared about her.

The police promised to get in touch with her family, assuming they could find them.

It wasn’t sitting well with Julia that after several months of dating, David had no clue about her close friends or relatives.

Either he was exceedingly self-involved, or he wasn’t being honest.

Julia planned to go kayaking, attempting to infuse some normality into the day, though she knew she’d be scanning the shoreline for a body half the time.

But to her surprise, Detective Baker had returned.

This time, instead of one uniformed officer, four accompanied her.

They arrived in several cop cars, all parked in front of David’s glass house, their cruiser lights spinning but the sirens off.

They talked in a cluster, like a football team huddling to decide the next play. Julia heard Taylor and the kids frolicking out back, with Nutmeg barking excitedly. She guessed they were playing ball, one of Nutmeg’s favorite games. The police, however, had no time for frivolity.

Had they come to collect David so he could identify Fiona’s body at the morgue? That couldn’t be right, because he was relaxing in his living room, sipping green juice from a tall glass. Julia could see him as clearly as if he were standing outside.

He was sweaty and shirtless, with a towel draped around his neck and white sneakers on his feet. Evidently Fiona’s absence hadn’t interrupted his workout routine.

Julia strode up to Baker, even though she could feel David’s hard stare burning into the back of her neck. “Did you find something?” she asked.

Baker must have been sweltering in her dress slacks and blazer.

She returned a neutral expression—neither a smile nor a frown.

Julia found her lack of emotion unsettling.

She had assumed Baker would welcome her as an ally.

After all, she’d been the one who called the police.

But upon reflection, it made sense that a metaphorical wall would be erected between them.

They must not have answers yet, and until they did, everyone was a suspect.

“It’s Julia Crawford, right?” said Baker, her voice as affectless as her body language.

“Yes, I’m Julia. Is there any news of Fiona?”

“None at all. We’ve deployed the dive team twice now, and added aerial coverage to augment the two K-9 units from the state police search and rescue division, who have already executed a comprehensive grid search of the woods.

We’ve got nothing to show for any of it.

But to be candid, we’d like to look in there. ”

Detective Baker directed a stubby finger at David’s house.

He saw them, naturally. How could he not, with windows everywhere?

As if on cue, David emerged from within, having the decency to put on a shirt first. Never one to miss an opportunity to boast, he wore one with his new company’s logo printed on the front.

But the cops didn’t care what shirt he was wearing. They’d come looking for clues and must believe they’d find them inside.

Baker gave David a terse smile. It was the look a cat might offer a mouse before starting the chase.

David stood tall, signaling he wouldn’t be easy prey. “Before you get into it,” he said to Julia, “the police have already asked me. The answer was no then, and it’s no now. I’d advise you to say the same about your place.”

“ My place?” Julia felt confused. She surveyed her home, half expecting to see the exterior draped with crime tape. But everything looked the same. Christian was probably still seated at the kitchen table where she’d left him, glued to his phone like he’d been since yesterday.

“They want to search my property instead of the woods—like I’m some sort of criminal. So I refused,” David said. “They should look for Fiona in places she might actually be, which isn’t my house. But apparently they’d rather waste their time here.”

David’s face flushed with indignation.

“Look, we can do this the nice way, or we can go through the court,” Baker replied impatiently. “You have two cars, both registered in your name, that we need to search as well. And you have Fiona’s phone.”

David frowned.

“You can have the phone, but you’re not searching my house or my cars,” he said.

“I know how the game is played, Detective. It’s always the boyfriend, so you’ll have confirmation bias from the start.

You’ll find something, I’m sure of it—either something you plant or something benign that you’ll try to use against me.

So no thank you. I politely decline your request.”

David sneered, his eyes glinting with the steely resolve of a gunfighter. Julia wondered: Was he right to be wary of the police, or was he hiding something?

“We’re not in the business of framing people,” said Baker. “Don’t you want us to do everything in our power to find your missing girlfriend?”

“I do,” said David, “which is exactly why I want you searching the woods and the lake. That might actually be useful, instead of rummaging through my life in what I’m sure will be a game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey.” He gestured toward his rear.

“If you have nothing to hide, David, then you’ve got nothing to fear,” said Baker.

Her police colleagues maneuvered into a formidable blue line behind their boss. They eyed David with contempt.

“You should know, Mr. Dunne,” said Baker, with the plastered-on patience of an exhausted mother, “that my next move is a warrant.”

David refused to concede. He drew himself up to full height, his famous temper flaring, doing him no favors. “Yeah? Then go get one.”

He turned and stormed off in a huff.

“Well, that didn’t go well,” Baker observed, unperturbed. She seemed to relish the challenge. “Maybe you can talk some sense into him,” she said to Julia. “Getting a warrant won’t look good for him in court, if it comes to that.”

“I’ll try,” Julia said, shaken by the thought.

“Any chance he was raised by a cop? Abused by one?” Baker asked.

“No. Why?”

“It would be one explanation for his profound mistrust of the police.”

“And what’s another?” Julia wanted to know.

“That he’s guilty of a crime,” said Baker.

Julia was too keyed up to go kayaking. And she certainly wasn’t up for snapping pics for Insta. She could see it now, posting a bright, smiling selfie captioned: Great day for a search warrant.

Ugh.

Instead, she changed into hiking clothes, found Nutmeg in the yard, and took her for a walk through the woods. A little pet therapy was in order. Nutmeg held up her end of the bargain.

After forty-five minutes of fresh air, movement, cherishing her dog’s unbridled joy while she zoomed along the woodsy path, Erika’s mindfulness practice tottering about in her head, Julia turned toward home feeling far more grounded.

She hoped Christian would be there so she could update him on the new developments.

He hadn’t been home when she left for her walk, but perhaps he’d returned.

She had a lot to tell him, and he could be a good listener… sometimes.

As she hung Nutmeg’s leash on a hook by the door, Julia took off her trail runners and stretched her feet. Sitting down to decompress would be great, and she knew something that would help with that.

Julia headed for the fridge to get a bottle of wine, but stopped dead in her tracks.

There was Christian, her Christian, half slumped at the kitchen table, a tall glass in front of him and a half-empty bottle of whiskey by his side.