Noah

Brazen and I sit in the kitchen, and he’s an absolute wreck as cops invade his home. We gave some hasty initial statements but the officers quickly went to work processing the scene. The timing for whatever happened outside couldn’t have been worse. Neither of us batted an eye at Sunday’s disappearance because we had been expecting it, but that blood on the grass and the overturned bush changed things.

“What if we’re overreacting? What if this is a misunderstanding, and we blow Sunday’s cover?”

I’ve already had this thought, but my gut tells me it isn’t likely. Right now, I need to find the words to reassure Brazen that everything is going to be okay when I really have no idea that it will.

“In a situation like this, I think we’re better off safe than sorry. We had to report it. You did the right thing. They’ll find Sunday, and she’ll come home, safe and sound.”

“Do you really believe that, or are you just saying it?” He looks to me for hope at a time when I’m not sure there is much of any.

I’m reminded of the week I spent spiraling about the letter from my mom. Brazen was my rock, and now, I need to be his.

“The only thing we can do right now is believe, Brazen. She’ll come home.”

He takes my hand and presses it to his lips. The tremors in his hand cause my nerves to kick into overdrive.

“Sorry, guys.” A pair of police officers approach us in the kitchen. “I know this is tough, but we need to talk to you both—separately.”

Brazen nods but doesn’t let go of my hand.

I stand and kiss his cheek. “Stay here and talk with the officer. I’ll go with the other officer. It’ll be okay. They’ll find her.”

He stares blankly at the man who will question him, and a piece of his sorrow hits me. I leave him in the kitchen and follow the other officer into the office.

“All right, Ms. Mackenzie, can you think of anyone who would want to hurt your friend Sunday?”

The answer to the officer’s question is an obvious one.

“Yes, if she’s missing or hurt, then it was her sort of ex-husband, Matt.”

“How can you be sure? What makes you say that?” His question isn’t asked in disbelief. He’s simply following up on his investigation.

I get it, but I just wish they’d go find Matt.

“He’s obsessive, and he has a long history of abusing her. A week ago, he beat the crap out of her, so she came to stay here. Matt’s been driving by her place, and he even went as far as to send flowers to my house for her.”

“Is there any history of this? Has she called the cops? Does she have a restraining order against him? Is there any trail of this behavior you’re alleging?”

“You’d have to ask Brazen for the specifics, but I know Sunday was having trouble with getting him held accountable for his actions. She’s turned for help and has a restraining order, but I’m not sure about the exact details of the reports or statements that have been logged.”

“You also told the officers earlier that you didn’t report her missing right away. Can you explain why not?”

“Well, Sunday found one of those underground women’s organizations that helps battered wives disappear. We weren’t alarmed when she didn’t come home, but when we saw the blood, we started to think something else had happened.”

I watch his face change to skeptical as I tell him about Sunday’s plan to flee. I wanted to make sure he had all the information, but I wonder if I should have kept that piece of information quiet.

“So, you’re telling me that you are aware our missing person had plans of running away?” He scribbles on a notepad, only glancing at me after I’ve taken too long to answer.

“Yes, but the blood. If Matt found out Sunday was planning on taking off, there is no telling what he might have done. Once we saw the evidence of foul play, we knew something wasn’t right.”

“You did the right thing by calling us, but oftentimes, these sorts of things end up being a big misunderstanding. Let’s not jump to conclusions too quickly. I’m sure your friend is fine somewhere.”

“But you’re going to investigate to make sure that’s the case, right?”

“Of course we are. Now, what else can you tell me about Matt?”

Not much. Brazen will have to fill in the blanks that I can’t.

By the time I’m done giving my statement, I’m drained. Despite my fatigue, I go off in search of Brazen, who’s sitting in the kitchen where I left him with his face in his hands. I want to cry and scream and go out searching for our friend. I don’t know what the right moves are here. I don’t know anything. How could anyone know what to do when something like this happens?

I come up behind Brazen, and he jumps a little when my fingers graze his back.

“It’s me,” I reassure him. “What do you need from me? How can I help?” Instead of asking him, I should have probably figured it out on my own. I don’t want to give him anything else to think about, but I always want to make sure he’s taken care of.

“You are helping.” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. “Just be here with me. That’s all.”

“I love you, Brazen.” I can’t believe what’s happening.

“I love you, too.” His voice tells me he can’t fathom it either.

When the cops leave, things couldn’t feel more unresolved, and we’re almost powerless to do anything about it. The police didn’t seem worried. I’m not sure if that’s because they believe Sunday ran off or if it’s their professional mannerisms. I’m torn between believing their emotionless tactics are what we need to find her and being worried that they aren’t worried enough.

Sunday is missing, and Brazen is blaming himself.

He couldn’t have known. There is no one to blame but Matt.

Brazen paces his home, and I know he’s having a hard time taking the backseat. It’s killing him to sit and wait for someone else to find Sunday. To keep busy and so that I’m doing something to help, I find a picture of Sunday and make a Missing Person sign. I can hang these up all over town. Someone must have seen something. There must be one person who knows anything that could assist in the investigation. You see Missing Persons flyers on television. I never thought I would be sitting in my boyfriend’s home office, making one.

Yet here I am, doing exactly that.

They’ll find Sunday soon, and this will all be over with. Matt will finally suffer consequences for everything he’s put her through. I trust in positive thinking, which is all I really have at this moment.

Everything will be okay.

Everything will be okay.

Everything will be okay.

It has to be. I can’t believe any other way.

The front door opens and then slams closed, and I jump up, hoping it’s Sunday. My feet move at top speed, and I’m at the door in record time to see Brazen’s mom frantic and crying.

“Is it true? Oh, please, tell me it isn’t true,” she pleads.

Brazen’s mom was his second phone call after the police.

“Beth, I’m so sorry.” It’s all I can manage before she drops to the floor.

“No. My baby. My girl. Oh no. Please, no.” Each word is choked out between a sob.

Brazen rounds the corner as his mom falls apart. If it’s possible, I think I see his heart break right there, in the hallway. I never, ever want to see this look in his eyes again. He runs to Beth and drops to the floor with her, holding her against him.

“We have to be strong for Sunday. She’ll need us when she comes home. We can’t fall apart.” He rocks his mother while she cries in giant heaves of sadness. His comfort calms her just a little.

Deciding to give them a little space, I go into the kitchen to make coffee for when they are ready. No one will be sleeping until Sunday is home, safe and sound, so the need for caffeine is a safe bet.

As the pot finishes brewing, Brazen and Beth enter the kitchen.

“Cream or sugar?” I ask her.

“Just black, sweetheart.” Her voice is hoarse and broken.

The three of us sit and wait in silence until a ringtone sounds. The vibrations rattle against the table. My stomach drops, and Brazen must have the same bad vibe because, as the phone rings, he just stares.

“Do you want me to get it?” I don’t want to overstep, but I want to ease his responsibilities.

He finally breaks contact with the phone and looks up at me. “No, I got it.”

The ringing stops as he hits the Accept button.

“Hello?” he answers with a shaken voice.

The silence that follows couldn’t be any longer.

Brazen listens, and Beth and I sit on pins and needles until he grumbles out a response, “Okay, we’ll see you soon.” He ends the call and lets out a rattled breath. “The officer in charge of the case is on his way over. He has news,” Brazen announces with zero inflection.

“Did they find her? Is Sunday okay?” There is so much hope in Beth’s questions.

“He wouldn’t say over the phone. He just said he’d be here shortly to speak with us.”

And so, we wait while our coffees turn cold on the counter around us. I check the time on my phone what seems like every thirty seconds, and it takes approximately six minutes before the doorbell rings. Brazen leads the way as we all go to the door.

No words.

No greeting.

Just a look.

With one look at the officer’s face, I know he isn’t here with good news. Nothing about the way he approaches us says, We found your loved one, alive and well.

“No.” Brazen can read the room, too, as his denial flies from his lips.

Beth moves to stand closer to her son. I hang back, bracing for the news.

“I’m sorry.” The officer looks Brazen in the eyes. “They found Sunday’s body.”