Chapter One
“Rumsey!”my station chief calls as we’re gathering for muster. “We got a staffing surplus today, you’re due. Want it?”
“Yes, sir!”
A couple of heads turn as I spin around and trot back to my locker. In two minutes, I’m pushing through the metal door and squinting at the sunny parking lot. As I throw my gear bag in the back of my truck, ideas leapfrog through my mind.
Mountain bike ride? Vance is off today, maybe he’d join me. Trail run? Helping Dad at the ranch? Greta’s already in school or I’d treat her to breakfast at Glory Holes. It’s only been twenty-four hours since I watched my daughter’s smile light up her face, but it feels like a week.
As I pull out of the station parking lot, guilt chews at my insides. Before I make any plans, I should check in with Kelly. Maybe there’s something she needs done around the house today. I should call her, ask her to adjust her plans so we can talk. Our last fight ended with her in tears and me shutting down.
Though every cell in my body screamedrun, I pulled her close and held her.
I’m trying, Kels.
But she pushed me away.It’s not enough.
Back when things were good between us, on a day like today, I’d spend it with her and Greta. Maybe we’d pack a picnic and head into the mountains. Or I’d give Kelly a break and take Greta to Ruby Gulch to ride horses or make daisy chain crowns or have a tea party in the grass or whatever activity she dreamed up. Because as much as I love my wife, I live for my daughter’s smiles. Her mischievous laughter. Her exasperating spunk.
And maybe that’s how things between me and Kelly changed. Everyone said that if Kelly and I could make it until Greta started kindergarten, we’d be able to reconnect, and some of that energy we’d been spending on parenting a busy preschooler would be available forus. And for a time, that was true. We went on dates again. Flirted. We laughed more than we fought.
I turn into my neighborhood. Scattered leaves dot the pavement and a few downed branches are evidence of last night’s rainstorm. We were busy with calls until after midnight—trees down, a couple of MVAs, a minor flood out near Sunnyside.
When I reach my house, my spinning thoughts grind to a halt. Kelly’s car is parked in the driveway. She was going to drop Greta at school then visit her mom. Did she forget something? Maybe I can convince her to stick around for a little while. I could make her breakfast. We could talk.
I sit in my truck for a moment, gathering my thoughts. Then I step down and head for the house, but a detail I didn’t notice before snags my attention.
I blink at it while unease unfurls in my gut.
Why the hell is Vance’s truck parked on the street? Did he catch wind of my surprise day off, and he’s already here?
That has to be it. I’ll probably find him in my shop, using my toolsagain.
I flip to my house key and unlock the door, but the deadbolt is latched.
My pulse thickens in my throat. Since when has Kelly started using the deadbolt when she’s home?
My fingers shake as I sort through my keys to find the right one for the deadbolt. Fumbling with it in the lock, the keyring slips from my hand. I snatch it off the bristly welcome mat and try again, resisting the urge to call out or pound on the door and demand to be let in. This is my house, goddammit. I don’t need permission to get in.
Finally, I swing the door open. My breaths are ragged in my mouth and there’s a panicky chill coiling low in my belly, like I’m going to be sick.
In the silence inside the entryway, there’s a faint sound coming from the back—our bedroom.
“Kelly?” I call out, but it’s weak. More like a croak.
A plea.
I follow the sound, my heart crashing heavy and hard against my ribs, like I’ve sprinted all the way here.
Anxious, hushed voices. The whoomph of covers being tossed.
Turn around!a little voice inside my head begs.
But I can’t. Surely I’m jumping to a conclusion that will turn out to be ridiculous. Of all the problems Kelly and I have faced, this isn’t one of them.
The dim hallway turns the soft glow coming from the bedroom into a beacon. The door is ajar, but I need to swing it all the way open to get the information my brain is hungry for.
Turn around!
