Ash sat across from me on the couch. She had a novel tucked between her knees, and she gnawed, rabbit-style, on a hunk of licorice rope as she read. Every now and then, she’d yank a piece off with her teeth and then she’d turn the page.

I watched her. Her face was clean of makeup and she was wearing one of my shirts and a pair of shorts. She looked so normal in that moment, like there was nothing wrong with her. Like she wasn’t bat-shit crazy.

Ash had shown up the night before, and it had been exactly two weeks and two days since Lynn left. I was going crazy on the inside, but I tried not to show it.

I nudged Ash with my toe. She didn’t look up from her book.

I nudged her again, and she waved her licorice rope in the air in warning, but she still didn’t look up.

“Ash!” I called loudly.

She looked up at the ceiling and growled. “Fuck, Mason, what do you want?”

“I want to talk to you.” I nudged her with my foot, harder this time. “Put your book down.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Is that code for I want to fuck you? If not, go away. I’m reading.” She looked back down at her book, but I took it from her and held it over my head. She crawled across the couch, trying to snatch it, but I held it out of her reach. When she pressed her body against mine, I grabbed her against me and kissed her cheek, holding her tight. She melted against me. “Mason,” she pretended to sulk.

“Will you tell me a story?” I asked.

She froze in my arms. “What kind of story?”

“Tell me about the day Lynn’s father disappeared.”

She scrambled back, landing on the other end of the couch. She drew her legs toward her chest. “Why do you want to know about that?”

“Lynn wouldn’t tell me anything. All I knew was that he was gone. One day he was there. The next he wasn’t. Where did he go?”

She smiled, and in that moment, she looked so much like Shelly that she scared me.

“Ash?” I asked.

“Still me,” she said.

“What happened to him?”

“No one is really sure,” she hedged.

“Is he dead?”

“Maybe.”

“Ash, please?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Lynn’s life is like a puzzle, and I like to try to fit the pieces together.”

She snorted. “That’s a puzzle that will never be solved, Mason. You should know that by now.”

“I’m a glutton for punishment.” I shrugged and tried to look boyish. “What happened to Lynn’s father?”

“He got what was coming to him.”

“Which was what?”

“From what I hear, little pieces of him are scattered from here to his mother’s house in Georgia.”

“Why?”

“He stole Lynn’s necklace. Shelly didn’t like that.”

“What happened?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t there. All I know is that Lynn went to see Shelly, and she hadn’t done that in a long time. When she did, she told Shelly how scared she was that he was out of prison. Shelly takes care of Lynn. She always has. So she did. She took care of her.”

“And he’s…dead?” I knew something had happened to him when his parole officer came looking for him. Her father hadn’t reported for his check-in. But no one ever found him.

“Probably.” She shrugged like she didn’t have a care in the world.

“You think he’s dead.”

“Pretty sure of it,” she chirped.

“Why?”

She rolled her eyes. “Shelly never does anything half-ass.”

“What did you mean about little pieces of him being scattered from here to Georgia?”

She leaned toward me like she wanted to impart a secret. “Rumor has it that Shelly killed him, then she chopped him up into little tiny bits. Then she dropped pieces of him up and down the highway between here and her grandmother’s house.”

My gut roiled. “How did she chop him up?”

She snorted again. “Knowing Shelly, probably with her teeth.” She raised a piece of licorice rope to her mouth, clasped it between her teeth, and pretended to gnaw it like a dog with a bone. She shrugged. “Or maybe a chainsaw. Or a great big knife. No one knows but her.”

“Was Lynn involved in that whole thing?” I asked. My gut churned at the idea of it.

She waved a breezy hand in the air. “Not at all. Lynn doesn’t even know about it. She just thinks he disappeared, that he went to live his very normal post-parole life off the grid. If she knew, she’d never speak to Shelly again.”

My head reeled, trying to put together all the pieces.

“Anyway,” Ash said, “Shelly got what she wanted out of it.”

“What was that?”

“The necklace. Lynn gave her the necklace.”

I jerked to face her. “My necklace?” I laid a hand upon my chest.

“The blue one with the tiny diamonds all around? That one. Shelly wears it all the time. Lynn said she could have it. Shelly always wanted it.” She lowered her voice and looked around like someone was going to hear her. “To be honest, I think Shelly was desperate for a life like the one you had with Lynn. When she couldn’t get it, she pretended to have it. She wears that necklace every day. I can’t believe you didn’t know that.”

I had no idea. Apparently, there was a lot that I didn’t know.

“Have you ever met Lynn’s grandmother?” I asked.

“Nana? Of course. She makes the best chocolate chip cookies.”

“Do you know where she lives?”

“Yes.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why?”

“Want to go on a road trip?”

She squealed and hopped up on her knees. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes. I want to meet Lynn’s grandmother.”

“She’ll tell you to call her Nana. She tells everyone that. And she’ll feed you. She’s a wonderful cook.” She hopped to her feet. “When can we leave?”

“First thing in the morning. I have something I need to do.”

Her face fell. “You’re leaving.”

“Just for a little while. I’ll be back.”

“But…”

“I won’t be gone long. I promise.”

“Can I sleep in your room?” She danced from one foot to the other.

I shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” I bent and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Promise?” she said.

“I promise.”

I left and went to the office of a private investigator I’d contacted last week. It took me hours to explain everything to him, but he agreed to take the case. I wanted to know where Shelly’s apartment was. I needed for Lynn to come home, and Shelly was the only one who might be able to help me.

It was late when I walked into my bedroom. Ash was already asleep. I undressed and slipped under the covers, pulling her toward me, her naked skin warming mine. “Ash?” I asked, unsure because she smelled like Lynn’s soap.

“Still me,” she whispered as she burrowed against my skin.

I kissed her forehead and held her close. She wasn’t Lynn, but I was getting closer to finding my wife. I could feel it in my heart.