play. Henry threw the stick again, and then again, hoping to wear them down, but the dogs were now in a kind of ecstasy. Perhaps they too were remembering another life. They wouldn’t let him get away. Finally, he unwrapped the last package of jerky and threw it as far as he could. That began a brawl that allowed him to hurry on, crossing Linwood Avenue and arriving at his block on Ralph McGill Boulevard.
All the houses were dark, the windows black and full of secrets. He was frightened. He thought about calling out the names of his neighbors, but he could not. He didn’t know why. The silence seemed too great to be broken.
He stood on the long brick veranda where his children had spent so many hours playing. There were marigolds blooming in the flower boxes. He peeked in a window into his study. Despite the dark, everything looked in order. He could make out his desk, the photo of his grandparents on the wall. On the arm of his chair was the novel he had been reading before he had gone to Geneva. It’s not so bad, he thought. I’ve been scaring myself.
The glass was broken on his front door.
Henry went inside. There was more glass underfoot. He stood quietly, listening, hearing nothing but the drone of crickets, smelling nothing but death. No one is here, he was sure, but still he called out, “Jill?” His voice cracked. “Jill?”
He couldn’t bring himself to say his children’s names.
He walked through the living room and dining room to the breakfast nook, where he kept a flashlight in the utility drawer. It wasn’t there. He now saw that there were pie pans and broken dishes on the floor of the kitchen. The pantry doors were open, and it was dark and bare inside. Henry remembered where the matches were and lit one. He spotted the candle on the window ledge behind the breakfast nook. Sometimes, when the kids were asleep, Jill would light the candle and they’d have a very domesticated romantic dinner together. He lit the candle.
Cupping the small cone of light, he moved through the hall to their bedroom. It was in disarray. Bloody sheets were pulled halfway off the empty bed, signifying something ominous. His clothes were still in the closet, but so were Jill’s. Could there be a note, at least? If not a letter, some clue that would tell him where his family was. But why would they have believed that Henry was alive all this time? Why should they assume that one day he would return to save them?
Teddy’s room was empty. Henry went through his drawers. No underwear or socks. His backpack was gone. Surely he’s safe, Henry thought, he must be somewhere safe. Teddy’s robot was on the desk. I wish he could tell me where his master is, Henry thought.
In the candlelight Henry saw a man on the floor of Helen’s room. Henry stopped cold, then crept closer until he could see the man was dead, lying facedown on a mattress in a pool of crusted blood, his pants partly off, with a knife in his back. Maggots crawled in and out of a head wound, which Henry determined had been caused by a gunshot. There was more glass on the floor: Helen’s Miss Piggy bank. A robbery, Henry concluded. But nothing made sense. There was a coin under the dresser. A quarter.
Maybe they’re upstairs, he thought.
When he opened the door to the stairwell, several cats darted out. Henry was so startled he just stood there catching his breath. There was cat shit all over the place, along with the smell of urine so sharp that it made his eyes water. He was not surprised by what he found.
He walked back downstairs through the kitchen onto the screen porch. In the dim moonlight, Henry saw the graves in the backyard.
He went to the garage to get his shovel. Jill’s car was gone. Mrs. Hernández’s Ford Focus was still in its spot. Jill must have left. She’d fled with the children. Something had happened, an intruder was killed, so Jill had taken the children and sought safety. Maybe to her sister’s.
But that didn’t explain the graves.
Henry began to excavate the smaller of the two graves. It had been thoughtfully done, with stones and bricks on top to keep the animals out. He set the rocks aside and began digging, his heart pounding, not wanting to find what he had to find.