The doorbell rings, startling me. Glancing at the clock, I furrow my brow. I’m not expecting anyone. On the other side of the glass pane of the front door is Detective Salve. I give him a quick chin lift in greeting as I swing the door open.

“Hey man, what’s up?” I ask. Salve blinks vacantly at me a beat before stepping inside.

“I’m here on official business.”

“Huh?” I ask and then nerves settle into my gut. Salve looks around my place. Aubry said my place was sterile, void of any personality. Official and cold. Is that what Detective Salve sees? I will myself to calm down. I have allotted for this. I have a ‘Go’ bag in my plane. I have cash, enough for three lifetimes, if need be. I’m golden.

“When was the last time you spoke to Aubry Clark?”

Now it’s my turn to blink blankly.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “She was all worked up over a new design theme idea. She gets so into her work that she doesn’t answer her phone or texts.” What the hell is he asking about Aub for anyway?

“Mike, I need to know. Think.” His Adam’s apple bobs with his words. I gesture for him to follow me.

“What’s this about?” I ask as I lead him to the kitchen where my cell rests on the counter. I pick it up and look through my texts and call log.

“She’s been reported missing.” He glances around the large sparsely-decorated kitchen.

“What? When?” I ask. Shock stiffens my limbs. Salve nods toward my phone. “I, um,” I stumble, “Last text and call was the sixteenth.” Aubry’s missing? Missing. A knot forms in my gut.

Salve sighs and scrubs his face with his hands.

“And the last time you saw her?”

I shrug. “I don’t remember. Maybe the tenth? Was that a Saturday? I think we spent Saturday together. But Salve…”

Salve frowns. “Mike, I’m going to need you to come to the station for questioning with me.”

“What? Are you serious?” My eyes widen.

He shakes his head. “I wish I wasn't.”

“Why can’t we talk here?” I tap my fingers against the countertop.

Salve’s eyes hold no judgment as he says, “You’re the last person she called.”

So what? How does that help her? I squeeze my cell in my hand. “And?”

“Come on, Mike, don’t make this harder for me. Just cooperate and you can go back to your day,” he says and scrubs a hand over his face. Understanding slaps me in the face.

“Holy shit, I’m a suspect?” I blurt. Salve only stares at me. Furious, I storm into my room, jam my feet into sneakers and return to the kitchen. “Okay let’s get this over with,” I say.

“Hey, I didn’t say I liked this, Mike. It’s my job.”

My shoulders slump. He’s right and I’d be pissed if he wasn’t doing everything possible to find her. “I know, man.”

Salve follows my car to the station. The drive feels surreal. Too quick, but simultaneously too slow. The scent of orange peels invades my nostrils and I sense I’m being watched, by Aubry, which is ridiculous, because she’s missing. She perpetually smells like orange peels. It is something I make fun of her for—often. I’m craning my neck, trying to find the source of the scent when blue police lights flood my rear view.

What the fuck, Salve. I pull to the curb, open my window and wait even though it's allowing that orange peel scent to escape, which in turn, produces a clawing desire to immediately roll my window back up to preserve it.

At my window, eyes bugged out, he grunts out, “What the hell, Mike?”

“What?” I ask. The orange smell completely dissipates through the open window and I stomp on my urge to roll it up again, close it in Salve’s face just to keep the scent trapped near me.

“You were all over the road,” he deadpans and shoots me an expectant look.

“I’m sorry. I was distracted. I...” I struggle to find the words.

Salve saves me.  “I know this is shocking. Look, man,” he says and grips the windowsill of my car. “Let’s just get to the station safely and get this all sorted.”

I nod and swallow past the lump in my throat. “Yeah, man.” A little bubble of warmth blooms beneath my sternum. The second he moves away I roll my window up and inhale, hoping I can still smell her.