The lock on Jack’s kitchen window had been loose for a while, something he’d intended on fixing for days. I hoped he hadn’t got around to making the repair, and, sure enough, when I jimmied the pane it opened far enough for me to climb in. I left the lights off in case they alerted Sam to my presence, took off my shoes and walked down the hallway to Jack’s bedroom. I knew the place was empty, but still had to fight back the tears as I pushed open the door and saw his neatly made bed with the dark blue duvet cover. After stripping down to my underwear, I pulled on a pair of Jack’s pajama bottoms and an old T-shirt, clutching the latter to my chest as I finally let myself go, sobbing and begging.

“Jack,” I whispered. “Please come home.”

The sound of footsteps on the stairs outside made my breath catch in my throat and I leaped up and ran down the hall shouting, “Jack? Jack!” I pulled the front door open and looked down the stairs, ready to jump into his arms, but immediately froze. Even without seeing his face I instinctively knew this wasn’t Jack. The man was tall and wiry, wore a black hoodie he’d pulled down over his forehead, obscuring most of his features. White skin, a beard perhaps, or maybe it was a shadow, but I definitely couldn’t make out his eyes as they were hidden behind dark sunglasses nobody needed to wear at this time of night.

“Who are you?” I said, my voice sounding a lot firmer than I felt on the inside.

He glanced at me, took a slow, deliberate step forward and opened his mouth to respond when another car I’d never seen before pulled into the driveway behind us. Sam got out, and as soon as I called out to him, the man on the stairs backed off and disappeared around the side of the garage.

“Who was that?” Sam said, frowning as he walked over. “A friend of yours?”

“I don’t know.” I wrapped my arms around my middle. “One of Jack’s maybe? Someone who wanted to check up on him?” I tried to make myself believe the words, but they wouldn’t stick. Who would come looking for Jack in the dead of night? And whoever it was, why didn’t he say anything, not even to ask if Jack had been found?

Why would he run away when Sam pulled up?

“I thought you were home,” I said quickly. “I saw your car.”

“I was out for dinner. Got an Uber.” He paused for a second. “How did you get into Jack’s place? I took the spare key earlier.”

“The window.” I shrugged. “I wanted to be...you know...close to him.”