certain coworkers every day.
And then there were her parents. Elise was close with them, to the point that she had never gone two weeks without seeing them before. Her suitcase was packed with gifts she had picked out for them in Rome, and she couldn’t wait to go over to their house and see them.
That would be tomorrow, though. Tonight, she simply wanted to get home and get some sleep in her own bed.
The plane landed, jolting Elise fully awake. She waited until it had taxied to the gate and then stood up, stretching her arms overhead and twisting her body back and forth, trying to loosen her muscles after the long flight. She needed to make sure she was alert for the drive home.
Baggage claim seemed to take forever, but finally Elise found her suitcase and headed out to the airport parking garage. Her car was right where she’d left it, and she felt a little jolt of happiness at the sight of it. Here was the first real sign that she was back at home. She fished out her keys, got in, and inhaled the familiar smell of the leather.
She had been reading a magazine the day she’d left home. There it was, on the seat of her car. As if she was stepping back into the life she had left behind. As if nothing had changed for her.
But that’s not the case. Everything has changed.
She started up her car and drove slowly out of the garage, pondering how much her perspective had changed.
She had been thinking about this trip, looking forward to it, for so long. But until she had actually gone, Rome had seemed like a fantasy place, like something that existed only in stories.
It was strange to think that it was still there right now. It was late at night here in Albuquerque, but back in Rome, people were just waking up. Starting their day. Gianni was opening up his shop. Elise felt as though she had said goodbye to him this morning, but from his perspective, it was yesterday.
And Lucas…
He was probably back in Boston right now. Elise wondered if he was asking himself why she had never called him.
I’m sure he’s not. I’m sure he’s moved on from that night.
She turned onto her street, and there it was—her apartment. It was like an old familiar friend. Elise couldn’t keep a smile from spreading across her face as she pulled into the parking lot and looked up at her bedroom window.
Then she frowned.
The light was on.
Had she left the light on? She had been gone for two weeks. The electric bill this month was going to be no joke if she’d done that.
With a sigh, she heaved the suitcase out of the trunk and toward the stairs. “Back to reality,” she mumbled.
She reached the top of the stairs, opened the door, maneuvered her suitcase in, and closed it behind her. Then she headed to the kitchen to grab a can of soda.
Halfway there, she froze.
Something was wrong.
It wasn’t just the fact that the lights were on. The whole place felt wrong, and Elise couldn’t put her finger on why. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
Then she spotted it.
The TV was gone.
And the door—she whirled around. She had opened it without the key. It hadn’t been locked.
Did I leave it unlocked?
No. She remembered locking the door as she’d left for the airport. It had felt so momentous. That had definitely happened.
She hurried over to the door and bent to examine it. It looked as though the lock had been damaged. Someone had forced it.
Somebody broke in.
She was chilled, suddenly. She felt as if she’d left her fantasy and crash-landed in a horror story. What were you supposed to do when someone broke into your apartment?
What if the thief was still there! She grabbed her suitcase and went out into the hall, shutting the door behind her.
Elise pulled out her phone, instinctively calling her parents. They would know what to do. They had always been her sounding board, her source of advice. Even though she was in her thirties and living on her own, she knew she could count on them.
Her mother answered the phone. “Elise!” she cried. “Howard, it’s Elise! Are you home? How was your flight? Did you make it back to your apartment all right?”
Elise opened her mouth to answer her mother’s barrage of questions and found, to her shock and mortification, that she was crying.
“Elise?” Her mother