I opened the door to the house and stepped inside, feeling the strains of exhaustion that had become my constant companion since taking on the new job as the head of homicide. I shrugged off my belt with my badge and gun and hung it up in the hallway, locking the gun in the safe and pausing for a moment to take in my home: the deep blue walls, the gleaming hardwood floors, the living room filled with books and toys, and the faint smell of cinnamon and homecooked meals.

At least when someone did cook, that was. Lately we hadn’t really done much of that. It was too hard for both me and Joe. To pretend. It made me not want to go home. That and the anger I was still processing over him telling my mother the truth.

Making my way through the house, I spotted Joe in the garage, hunched over his old motorcycle, engrossed in whatever project he had going. That thing had never worked, but he loved to try to make it, especially when he had a lot on his mind. I put a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to face me with a start.

I smiled, even if it was forced. He returned my smile and eased up.

“Welcome home,” he said, and I could tell from the look on his face that he hadn’t even thought of dinner. Neither had I. Maybe we could just order something. DoorDash was our savior these days.

“How are the kids?” I asked, my voice almost a whisper as I glanced up the stairs.

“They’re fine, I think,” he said with a nod. “Charlene’s on her phone in the living room, Zach is playing video games, and I haven’t seen William these past few hours, as he has been in his room.”

“Okay,” I nodded. “How does Mexican for dinner sound?”

“Good. Good.”

An awkward silence filled the room, and I decided to leave him alone. I walked to the kitchen and pulled out my phone, then opened the DoorDash app and ordered a bunch of tacos and burritos. The food came a little later and we all ate together, even if we might as well have been eating apart, as no one engaged in any form of conversation at all. I tried to ask them how school was today but received nothing but a shrug and “it was okay” from the boys.

That was it. At least I tried.

My guess was they sensed the tension between me and Joe, even if we tried hard not to show it, or to let them know. Kids knew. Kids always knew.

As I cleaned up after dinner, a tear escaped my eye. I wiped it away fast, but I couldn’t help myself. I felt awful. I loved my family. What was I doing to them?

I’m making myself happy. I’m not doing anything to them. I deserve to be happy.

I knew it was the right thing to do, to follow my heart, but was it worth it?

“I’m going to bed,” I told Joe when I was done. He was back in the garage fumbling with his bike project, and just grumbled something back that I couldn’t hear. I went to the guest bedroom and closed the door, then crept under the covers and closed my eyes.

Sleep came and knocked me out fast.

FORTY-SIX

Then

Eight months had dragged on since Kitty was taken, and she was slowly beginning to lose hope of ever leaving this place again. She had been living in this small shed that got scorching hot during the day, with nothing but a thin mattress on an old metal frame bed, and a tattered blanket to keep her company. And of course, the pink teddy bear. But not a single scrap of sunlight had made its way in, and she spent her days in the light of one small bulb hanging from the ceiling, trying her best to sleep off the tedium. The only sound keeping her company was the low humming of the small AC unit in the wall. It was very old and didn’t run very well, but at least provided some relief to her.

Her days were so incredibly boring, and the same thoughts ran circles in her head. But today, she sensed something was different. She heard voices coming from the other side of her walls, and a steady rhythm of footsteps growing louder as they got closer.

What’s going on?

Heart throbbing, she sat up on her bed and stared at the door as she heard the bolt being pushed aside.

Was this good news? Or was she in danger?

When the door opened, surprise flooded through Kitty’s body. There stood Damian, holding a silver tray in his hands. Curiously, it carried a plate with a homecooked meal—rice, beans, and stewed chicken—instead of the usual bag of burgers and fries. Behind him was his wife. She was smiling and nodding happily, and it frightened Kitty, because she always looked so angry and serious, or sad. Never happy. Never smiling. Never.

“You must be hungry,” he said, setting the tray down on the bed. He looked at her with a strange kind of sympathy and untied her, while saying, “We brought you something special.”

Kitty felt a wave of emotions—relief, confusion, and something else she couldn’t quite explain. But she didn’t want to say anything, so instead she started to eat. She looked at the plate in front of her and a tear rolled down her face as she tasted the food. It was the first time in so long that someone had given her something out of compassion, and she knew it meant more than just the food.

Linda sat down on the bed and took her hand in hers. “Sweetie, we came here to talk to you about something.”

She glanced up at her husband, then back at Kitty.

Kitty had her mouth full of chicken and wanted to cry in happiness. This tasted so good, and she realized that it had been so long that she had completely forgotten how good a homecooked meal was.

“We know you’re not very old,” Linda said. “But you do know where babies come from, right?”

Kitty stopped chewing. She nodded, thinking of what had happened over the past few months, then ate more of the delicious food.

“Okay, good. That’s good,” Linda said. “Because the reason why we’re bringing you this food, is that we believe that you…” she paused almost tearing up.

Kitty didn’t quite understand why she was getting emotional, so she frowned.

Linda cleared her throat. “Remember how we had you pee on that stick? Well, it came out positive. We believe that you are pregnant.”

Kitty stared at her, food still in her mouth. She swallowed what was in there and the big lump struggled all the way down.

“Here, have some water,” Damian said when she began to cough.

Tears sprang to Kitty’s eyes, and she drank from the bottle of water. She took in a deep breath and her nostrils were filled with the stench from the bucket in the corner where she was to relieve herself. The taste of piss and feces came in her mouth, and she wanted to throw up, but bit it back.

She knew what being pregnant meant. Her mom had talked about it when Aunt Jane had been knocked up, as she called it. By some bastard, she’d said, who wouldn’t even recognize the child. And then she had to raise the child all by herself. And she also knew she hadn’t been bleeding for the past three months but thought nothing of it. Damian had been coming to her every day, and she had let him. Because that meant getting food, and he would also sometimes bring her candy, if she was extra good to him and let him lie on top of her, even if it hurt.

Damian stroked her gently across the hair. “I’m so proud of you, Kitty. I really am. I can’t wait to see what our baby will look like. I’m sure it will be beautiful just like you.”

FORTY-SEVENBILLIE ANN

The dream started out as a nightmarish blur that slowly became clearer. I was walking home along the same route I used to take, back years ago when I was a young detective. But something felt off. I had the distinct feeling that I was being watched, and I began to feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I quickened my pace, but it felt like I was going nowhere. It was almost like the faster I tried to go, the slower I went.

Suddenly I was in a strange room, and I was being pinned down by someone I knew. I felt helpless, unable to move or fight back as he touched me. I could feel tears streaming down my face as I screamed for help, but no one could hear my voice. No one came to rescue me.

Time seemed to stand still as I struggled, and I felt a deep emptiness wash over me. I felt trapped, like I would never be able to escape this nightmare. I wanted to wake up, but I was stuck in an endless loop of despair and hopelessness. I begged him to stop, to leave me alone.

Next, I was walking through an unfamiliar city when I stumbled on a crime scene. On the ground, in a ditch, was a body, lifeless and cold. The body was crumpled and mangled in a way that was unmistakably unnatural. I knew who he was but couldn’t remember his name.

Around his neck was tied a belt with a shiny buckle.

I woke up in a cold sweat, my body trembling and my heart pounding. As I lay there in my bed, I couldn’t help but feel relieved. It hadn’t been real. It had only been a dream. I kept telling myself.

It was just a dream.

But then it overwhelmed me. I started to shake heavily, and tears streamed across my face, soaking my pillow. I could barely breathe and sat up straight, hoping it would calm me down, but little did it help. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore, I got out of bed, grabbed my phone and called my best friend Danni. She was sleeping, of course, so it went to voicemail. I hung up without leaving a message.

I couldn’t say anything, I simply couldn’t get the words across my lips, so I just cried helplessly.