Maybe they are all playing in Nico’s room.
My son’s room is the last stop. I tap on his door, my stomach clenching as I wait to hear his childish voice calling for me to come in. (Or not to come in.) But yet again, there’s no answer.
I open the door so abruptly, I almost fall into the room. Unlike my daughter’s room, it’s a mess. The blankets are in a big messy lump in the center of his bed, and he’s got laundry strewn everywhere. And that awful praying mantis is still in the enclosure next to his bed. Little Kiwi is here, but Nico is not.
Where are they?
TWENTY-ONE
Okay, there’s no reason to panic.
Enzo’s truck is in front of the house, so he has been home. He must have taken them somewhere. Of course, it’s not like our town is walkable. Where could he have gone without his truck?
I reach for my phone in my pants pocket. I tap out a message to Enzo:
Where are you?
I stare at the screen, waiting for a response. Nothing. It says the message has been delivered but not read.
I don’t feel like waiting for him to answer my text at his leisure, so I click on his name from my favorites to call him. The phone rings once, twice… half a dozen times. Then it goes to voicemail.
Again, that in itself should not be concerning. When Enzo is on a job, he never picks up his phone. The equipment is painfully loud, and he’s often wearing thick gloves that won’t allow him to operate a phone. But then again, he can’t be on a job, because his truck is in the yard.
I have this uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like something has happened.
I sprint back down the stairs, practically tripping on them. I check the living room and the kitchen one more time, looking for some sort of note from Enzo, saying he took the kids out for ice cream or something along those lines.
But there’s no note. There’s nothing.
I grab my phone again, wondering if I need to call the police. That seems like an overreaction though. It would be one thing if just the kids were gone, but since my husband is gone too, the assumption is that they are all together. Enzo will think I have lost my mind if I call the police on him. Besides, I don’t trust the police—after spending a decade in prison for reasons I still think are a bit unfair, you can’t help but feel that way. There’s only one police officer that I trust, but I wouldn’t call him unless it was an absolute emergency. And this isn’t an emergency—yet.
Okay, I need to think logically. Enzo and the kids are not here, but his truck is here. That means wherever he went, he went on foot. The most likely thing is that he is still in the cul-de-sac.
I exit the front door, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart. This cannot be good for my blood pressure. I took a pill this morning like I have every day for the last week, and Enzo bought me a blood pressure cuff to monitor it daily, but it’s still high. It’s not even a tiny bit lower.
My first stop is 12 Locust Street. As I get to the front door, I can hear noise coming from the backyard. It sounds like Enzo’s equipment, which is a good sign. He went over to work in Suzette’s yard, and he brought the kids with him.
I press the doorbell, and after what seems like an eternity, Suzette comes to the door. She smiles when she sees me, but there’s something in her smile that makes my skin crawl. I just want to collect my family and get the hell out of here.
“Millie!” she exclaims. “You look positively disheveled! Are you all right?”
“Fine,” I mutter. “Um, are Enzo and the kids here? I need to get everyone home and start dinner.”
“Enzo is here in the backyard,” she confirms. “He’s got so many helpful tips for gardening. Honestly, he is a genius, Millie.”
“Are the kids out there too?”
She shakes her head, puzzled. “No, just Enzo. I haven’t seen the kids. I think Nicolas has broken enough things in my house, don’t you?”
The relief I felt a minute ago completely evaporates. “The kids aren’t here at all?”
“No…”
When I got home, I felt secure in the fact that the kids had to be safe with Enzo. But if he isn’t with the kids, then where are they?
I search Suzette’s face, wondering if she’s messing with me. I don’t think making a mother scared that her children have vanished is a funny joke, but who knows with this woman. Except I don’t think she’s joking around. She hates the kids, so it’s not like she would want them over here.
“Can you please go get my husband for me?” I croak.
Her voice softens. “Of course. Just a moment.”
A second later, Enzo comes out from the back of the house, walking quickly. He has that same crease between his eyebrows that Ada gets.
Ada… I hope she’s okay. Where could she be? That girl would never go off anywhere without telling me.
“Millie?” He frowns at me. “What is going on?”
I squeeze my hands together. “I just got home, and the kids aren’t there. I… I thought they might be with you.”
Enzo looks down at his watch and his eyes bulge. “You just got home now?”
I don’t appreciate the judgmental look on his face. “Well, you weren’t home either.”
“Because I thought you would be,” he shoots back.
I don’t understand him. He got home before I did, so he had to have known I wasn’t there based on the fact that my car wasn’t in the garage. Yet he still left.
“Did you check the backyard?” Suzette asks unhelpfully.
