As soon as I pull up to Jessica’s driveway, I see the house is still completely dark.

I turn off the engine of my bike and make the call.

“Ashbourne Police Department. How can I help you?” The woman on the other end of the line is all business, her voice crisp and professional.

“I’d like to report a missing person.” To make the case more solid, I add, “And animal poisoning. Someone poisoned her dog earlier this evening and now she’s missing.”

“Okay, what’s the name of the missing person and her relationship to you?”

“Jessica Lake. She’s my girlfriend.”

I feel weird about the fact that the first time I ever call Jessica my girlfriend is during a conversation with the police. I don’t even know what we are, now that she’s not responding to my texts and calls, and has told me to stop sleeping at her place.

“Okay, how long has this person been missing?”

“She took the dog to the vet at around six, so it’s been six hours.”

“I’m sorry, Sir, but we only investigate cases like this when the person has been missing for at least twenty-four hours.” She sounds impatient, like she has a tall stack of reports on her desk to review, or ten more phone calls on hold to deal with, or a dozen more donuts to eat.

“No. Please, you don’t understand. There have been a few strange things that happened to her over the past month. There was a break-in at her house, she received a threatening letter, and her dog got poisoned. Something’s going on.”

“Okay. Give me a second.” She pauses while typing noises fill the background. “I just pulled up recent reports involving Jessica Lake. I see all three instances you mentioned on the system.”

“Yes. She told me she was going to call the police about her dog earlier tonight. I’ve been here at her house the whole time, but I haven’t seen any cops.”

“We told Miss Lake that we’ll send someone tomorrow morning.”

“What time?”

“Miss Lake didn’t tell you?”

“I haven’t been able to reach her,” I say.

“How have you tried to reach her, Sir?”

“I texted her, called her, and I’m actually at her house right now.”

“She’s not responding to your attempts at communication?”

“No.”

“Did you have a disagreement?”

“Well, yes, but—”

The woman sighs audibly into the phone and cuts me off, saying, “I’m sorry, Sir. We can’t help you right now. Give it some time. If she doesn’t turn up after twenty-four hours, call us again. But I have a feeling she’ll get in touch once she’s no longer angry with you.”

“Wait, it’s not—”

“Thank you for calling, Sir,” the woman says before she ends the call.

I stare at the bright screen of my phone with my jaw open. I can’t believe she just hung up on me! I almost wish I was using a landline so I could slam the phone down.

I remain seated, straddling the bike, as I think. Where could Jessica be? What else can I do to find her?

Jessica’s right. It’s not Steve or Caine. I saw for myself how clueless Steve is about everything, and Caine… Well, like Jessica said, there’s little reason why such a powerful man would concern himself with trivial matters, and even less reason why he’d use such cheap scare tactics.

Whoever is doing this, he must know that he’s not accomplishing anything other than scaring Jessica. If the perpetrator is a man like Caine or Stan, then it would make more sense for him to go right for the jugular—kill Jessica for revenge or kidnap her first to prolong her suffering.

My chest tightens and my extremities turn cold at the thought of Jessica being in the hands of someone who wants to harm her.

Why would anyone do this to Jessica, if it isn’t related to Nancy Jones’ death? Jessica couldn’t hurt a fly.

I don’t know what else I can do. Maybe the woman at the police station is right. Maybe Jessica’s just angry with me, so she chooses to not come home tonight, knowing I’m here waiting for her. As much as that would suck, it would still be much better than the alternative. I hope to God the policewoman is right.

It’s almost one in the morning, but I can’t go to sleep like this. I can’t work either, even though the Japanese market is still open. I don’t know what else to do or where else to look.

I take a deep breath and look up at the stars.

I grew up in the city, so when I first got stationed in the Middle East, that was the first time I’d ever seen the stars without light pollution blocking the view.

Ever since I started traveling and staying in small towns all the time, I’ve developed a habit of taking comfort from the night sky. It’s often the only constant in my life.

It’s not like I don’t have good people in my life. I have good friends and a good family, but most of the time they’re not physically near me. My friends are scattered all over the country. After retirement, my parents moved to Costa Rica, where their pensions go a long way.

The stars are there to celebrate the good days with me, when I’m hundreds of miles away from anyone I know. They’re there on bad days too, reminding me that my problems will go away soon.

The stars will still be there the next day, the next week, the next month, the next year, the next decade, the next century. Looking up at them makes my problems seem trivial.

I get off my bike and start to pace the sidewalk. Maybe a night stroll will give me the cool head I need so desperately right now.

After taking just a few steps from Jessica’s house, I see it. Jessica’s beat-up white Toyota, parked in front of Bertha’s house.

The lights in the living room are turned on. I know Bertha is out of town right now, so Jessica’s probably in there. I take a deep, relieved breath. I know she has the keys to Bertha’s place, but in my panic, I didn’t even think about her staying there for the night.

Judging by the lights, Jessica’s probably still awake. Perhaps she’s worried about Max, or angry at me. I guess she just doesn’t want to see me tonight, but at least she’s safe. Maybe I should leave her alone.

Yet a small, angry voice within me protests. Why did she do that without telling me? She should’ve known I’d be worried sick, especially now, when Max has just gotten poisoned. She should’ve at least texted me to let me know she’s okay.

I can’t believe after everything I’ve done for her, she’d just ghost me again like she did three years ago. Maybe I should barge in there and give her a piece of my mind.

I stand there in front of Bertha’s house, trying to come to a decision in the dark. Should I try to be more understanding, and give her some space? Or should I give in to my anger?