As much as I liked working for Mike and respected him as my boss, the prospect of going to the garage now and sitting at reception, smiling and forcing myself to be friendly when all I wanted to do was scream, made my skin crawl. I grabbed my phone, sent Mike a text saying I wasn’t well. Not long after he replied, hoping I’d feel better soon. Instead of his message giving me relief, it made me feel like a selfish jerk because I knew he’d end up doing my work for me. I’d explain everything to him tomorrow, I decided, knowing he’d understand and offer a comforting shoulder once he found out about Jack, but right now I couldn’t face telling him.

I soon knew I’d made a mistake. Without work, the entire day stretched out ahead of me, time I didn’t know how to fill. I headed to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, but when I opened the fridge and saw a plastic container with the leftovers of the last meal Jack and I had shared—butter chicken, his favorite—I burst into tears. How could he be gone? Disappeared without a trace from one moment to the next, leaving nothing behind but clothes on a beach?

Although I tried to push the disbelief, anger and fear away, it all slipped through nonetheless, burrowing deep into my heart. Perhaps going back to Jack’s apartment would ease the pain somehow, because not doing so and avoiding the place altogether would make me feel as if I were abandoning him all over again. I pulled on some clothes, tied up my hair and put on my shoes, forgoing the shower and makeup because what did it matter?

I sighed with relief when I got to Jack’s apartment and saw that Sam, good as his word, had fixed the broken kitchen window. I fired off a quick text, not expecting a reply because he was on his way to Chicago, but within a few seconds the three telltale dots appeared and he replied Call me if you need me, to which I responded with a simple thumbs-up. I wandered through to Jack’s bedroom, where I stared out the window. From my vantage point I saw a blue Dodge Charger crawl down the road and up to Sam’s driveway. I couldn’t see the number plate, but as I watched it sit there for a good minute, something started to feel off. I snapped a couple of pictures with my phone and waited until the car took off again. The windows were heavily tinted, and I hadn’t been able to spot who was in the vehicle, but coupled with the guy showing up at the house the night before, a feeling of unease dug into my stomach.