Until I Find You - Rea Frey Page 0,15

adrenaline surge. “Holy shit. Am I losing it?”

“Maybe you just forgot to lock the door? I do that all the time.”

“And then I accidentally left the front door open the other day?” I think about the moved playpen too. “I don’t think so.” I replay everything in my mind, but all the logistics crash into one another until they’re a muddled mess in my brain.

“Are you okay? Seriously?”

“I don’t know.” I slow my breathing and swallow a few times.

“I still think you should call the police to be safe.”

“No, I’m not going to drag them out on two false alarms. I’ll be the girl who cried wolf.” I roll to my stomach. “It’s probably just the house. It makes all kinds of noises. Always has.”

“Maybe it’s haunted.” She hesitates. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Are you putting away your own dishes?” I joke. “I thought you had a maid.”

“Today’s her day off.”

I sit up, approach my dresser, and waver between putting on actual clothes or pajamas. I reach for my yoga pants and a T-shirt. “So, what can I bring tonight?”

“Just Jackson. Got the nanny on call.” She rambles off a question about the Hollywood theme, but my mind is on the footsteps and unlocked door.

“Why don’t you come over early and get ready here?” Jess finally asks.

“No, I’m fine. Sorry to freak you out. I’ll see you tonight, okay?” I hang up and absorb the deafening silence of my bedroom. I do another walk-through—this time without the knife—and once I’m satisfied that no one is in our house, I pass by the front door to lock it when the doorbell rings.

I freeze behind the door, before a vaguely familiar voice calls: “Mrs. Gray? It’s Officer Toby.”

“Dammit, Jessica.” I unbolt the door and wear a tight-lipped smile when I open it.

“Ma’am? I got a distress call from your neighbor about another possible break-in? May I come in?”

I recognize his voice, so I know it’s Toby. I open the door wider and gesture inside. “I can’t believe she called you.”

“She was worried. What happened?”

I take him through every detail.

“Mind if I do a walk-through? Is your son sleeping?”

“He is. Here.” I hand him the key. “I locked the door when I thought there was an intruder. I just haven’t unlocked it yet.” I cringe even as I say it. Who locks an infant in his room? How will this look?

After what feels like an hour, Toby comes back through. “Ma’am, I would strongly suggest surveillance cameras on the perimeter since you live alone.”

I motion toward my eyes, accustomed to people forgetting that I can’t take the same precautions they do.

“Pardon me, ma’am. Is there a visually impaired equivalent?”

“Probably.”

“Thought about getting a dog?”

I nod. Chris had begged me to get a guide dog, but I always refused. I didn’t want one more thing to take care of, but now … maybe. “I have. There’s a lot of training involved and with everything that’s happened, I just haven’t had the time.”

Just one more thing to possibly lose, I think.

“Of course. I’ll tell you what.” He shifts and his handcuffs and baton bump and clash on his hip. “Why don’t you let me park a patrol car outside the next few days? It sure would make us feel better to keep an eye on you.”

My face reddens, and I correct my posture. “I appreciate that, but it’s not necessary. I think I just need to get some sleep. I appreciate you coming by though.” I cross expertly to the door and open it.

“That’s my cue.” He chuckles and steps onto the front porch. “Have a good day, Mrs. Gray.”

“Thanks.”

I shut the door and realize I still have my towel clenched in my fist. I toss the towel in the laundry and head upstairs to check on Jackson. Still sleeping like a champ. I prepare to go back downstairs, then make a left into the office. I open the closet, reach an arm in, and swat past old coats and bins to find what I’m hunting for: the sleek handle of my cello case. I gently tug it closer. The familiar heft immediately placates something deep inside me.

I close the door, hoping not to wake Jackson, and hoist the case onto the sofa. I run my fingers over the cognac exterior, unlatch the buckles, and stare down into the blurred bowl of my beloved instrument. A great heaving sigh escapes my chest. I pick it up with the same care I show Jackson. I sit