Chapter 3
I have no idea how I managed to drive home.
Four a.m. The rain had finally stopped. With trembling hands, I jammed the house key into the lock and twisted it twice.
I pushed the door open, only for a voice to cut through the stillness of the living room.
"Where did you go in the middle of the night?"
I froze.
A shadow was sitting in the armchair. He stood up, stepping slowly into the glow of the entryway's motion-sensor light.
Silas!
"Y-you..."
My mind went completely blank for five agonizing seconds.
Then, like a madwoman, I threw myself at him, crashing into his chest and locking my arms fiercely around his neck.
The warmth of his body seeped right through his shirt. He was alive.
He had a head. He had a face. He wasn't that mangled heap of flesh shoved into a body bag!
"You're alive... you're okay..." Tears spilled down my face. I clawed at his back, babbling incoherently like an absolute lunatic.
The impact sent Silas stumbling back a half-step.
He paused for a second, then let out a helpless sigh. Setting his drink down, he patted my back gently.
"What are you talking about?" he chuckled softly, clearly mistaking me for an emotionally overly-dramatic wife. "I was only going to Portland for a few days, why all the tears? The flight was just grounded because of a blizzard warning. I'm right here, safe and sound."
A chill washed over me, a bucket of ice water snapping my mind back to stark reality.
If he was standing here without a scratch... then who the hell was the headless corpse at the lumber mill wearing his custom watch?!
Silas gently pulled away, his gaze dropping suddenly to my mud-caked boots and pant legs.
"I tried calling you earlier, but you didn't have any service. Where did you go in the middle of the night to get covered in mud?"
"I..." I stammered. "I couldn't sleep, so I took a drive out to the suburbs. My tire got stuck in a mud pit on the way back. I had to get out and push."
"Is that so?" Silas stared at me, his gaze quiet and unblinking.
I nodded vigorously.
He didn't press the issue. Instead, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted.
"It's been a hell of a night. I'm exhausted, I need to take a shower first." He turned and headed toward the master bedroom. "Change out of those clothes and get some rest too."
Soon enough, the steady hiss of the shower echoed from the master bathroom.
Like a startled animal, I bolted into the bedroom.
His black leather suitcase sat untouched on the bench at the foot of the bed.
My hands were shaking violently.
If he had truly planned on flying to Portland tonight, there was one thing that absolutely had to be in this suitcase.
Silas suffered from severe migraines. When they hit, they brought on blurred vision and even violent vomiting.
His doctor had prescribed a highly specific medication, kept in a small, custom-made silver metal case. He was required to carry it with him every single day; on business trips, it absolutely never left his side.
I yanked the suitcase zipper open and threw back the lid.
Inside lay his cashmere overcoat, a few button-down shirts, and a toiletry bag, all meticulously folded.
Holding my breath, my fingers dug through every hidden compartment. I even ripped open the toiletry bag, dumping the razor and toothpaste right onto the bed.
Nothing.
That silver metal case was nowhere to be found.
He had never planned on going to Portland in the first place.
He had brazenly packed this suitcase for no other reason than to put on an act for me!
Right at that moment, the water in the bathroom abruptly stopped.
"Vera, what are you looking for?"
