CHLOE WALKED INTO HER house and set down her duffel bag and the suitcase holding all of her miscellaneous items. She sucked in a breath for courage and tried to ward off the immediate sense of loneliness. It was evening, after work, and the month of October, so night descended quickly. She came alone to her place for the first time in many weeks. Sighing out loud, the silence inside the house assaulted her. She let her stuff fall to the floor and walked through the house. She felt like a new potential buyer, checking it out for the first time. That’s how strange it seemed. For the last few weeks, she rushed in and out, scrabbling to grab stuff, purposely dreading the moment when she had to face living in her home again. Taking a quiet moment of reflection, Chloe was grateful for the ability to feel anything. She hated the numbness brought on by the sleeping pills. There was no getting around her sister’s mysterious absence and death. Neither the shock nor the knowledge, which she had to start processing, that she would never see Ebony again could conspire to incapacitate her any longer.

She was still here. The remaining sister. There was nothing else for her to do but start putting one step in front of the next. She would run her café and fill her days, one day at a time. What else did she have? What else could she do? This house was a huge part of it. She walked around, noticing it was still neat and tidy, although a little dusty since Chet’s last cleaning. It felt foreign now, like a new place to her, when it was the same one she’d lived in for several years.

Glancing up, she frowned at an empty spot on the wall that caught her eye and walked forward, reaching out to touch it. What the heck? The picture on the wall was missing! She was sure of that. It was where she hung the headshot of Ebony and her, which they took when the café first opened. They wanted to put it on the backs of the menus. The professional shot still gleamed on the menus, along with a short blurb about how Chloe’s Corner Café originally came into existence. She had balked at first in using only her name on the café, but Ebony had liked the singsong sound of all the matching Cs. It had been Ebony’s marketing analysis that this was a warm, friendly, downhome country name that would appeal to people. That was the only reason it was strictly her name on their business. But the headshot was gone. There was nothing hanging on the wall there. Not even the nail. She touched the wall and felt the nail hole. An icy shiver ran down her spine. Had someone removed it during the funeral proceedings? Wracking her brain, she didn’t remember giving anyone permission to. But she remembered the headshot in the slide show of Ebony at the memorial. Since there were numerous copies, why would hers have been taken off the wall?

She shook her head. Confused, but definitely noting the absence. She decided to ask Ryder. He’d explain what happened. Who else would have taken it?

Temporarily ignoring her concern, she grabbed all of her stuff and started to unpack. She realized that she’d taken out a lot of clothes during her stay with Chet. But not once did Chet object or grow weary. Chloe felt sure that most men would have been confused or apprehensive so soon after hooking up with a woman if she started bringing over all of her stuff. Meanwhile, she usually sat around his place alternating between staring catatonically and crying inconsolably. Lazily, she wandered up and down the beach. But Chet didn’t seem to mind or care. In fact, he continued encouraging her to stay as long as she liked. Her presence there seemed to please him no matter what condition she was in. Something to consider.

After a week without any further incidences, Chloe asked Ryder about the photograph and he told her he didn’t know where it was. Neither did her mom. They both said the funeral picture was taken from the back of the restaurant menu, and not from her wall. Or it could have been from her mom’s photo album. Ryder and her mom both believed Chloe must have just misplaced the picture and forgotten where. But Chloe knew she would have remembered removing that picture. That picture was her favorite of Ebony. It’s not like a daily newspaper that she forgot about reading. It was a treasured photo of her murdered sister. The thought made her shiver again. Damn. It never failed to give her a fresh shock and chill.

A few days later, a knock interrupted her from tossing some light salad greens for dinner, which she paired with a small pouch of brown rice. She hadn’t had much of an appetite of late. She heard one sharp knock, and then another one. Wiping her hands, she crossed the room and glanced out the window. Nothing there. She sighed, feeling a little uneasy but not enough to stop her from eating dinner.

Again. Five minutes later, another knock. She quickly crossed and looked out and again, but saw nothing. Peering hard at all the bushes around, she saw no one. Eerily, she kept watch. The traffic past her house was always slow and spotty. It was a neighborhood off the main road so they rarely had much traffic. There was no one out walking, and no kids were out playing. She swallowed, ignoring her apprehension. Not so unusual. Not at all. It was a quiet street.

That’s why the knocking spooked her. It had to be kids. Most likely. Duh.

Except someone murdered her sister and dumped her body and must have known something about her. Well, at least enough to empty her bank accounts and send her husband a Dear John letter.

Totally uneasy now, Chloe quickly grabbed her salad bowl and sat on the couch, staring right at her front door. Nothing. An hour passed, then two and the autumn night started to fall. She closed the blinds and quickly turned on every light in the place, including all her outdoor illumination. Peering out through the shades, she stood in her garage for a long while, silent, trying to hear anything or anyone outside. Nothing.

She let it go and decided not to call Ryder. Staying up half the night and waiting for another knock, her heart hammered. She kept vacillating and wondering what to do as she imagined someone knocking again in middle of the night. But nothing happened. Sleepless and exhausted, she still gave herself kudos for not calling Ryder for help.

Four days later, she was at home and brushing her teeth when there was another disturbance. She paused, staring into the mirror and poised to spit when she swore she heard a thump. Her heart twisted and jerked, instantly pumping harder. It was dark outside. She checked all the doors and set the alarm system she’d had installed in her absence. Actually, that was at Ryder’s suggestion, and he was also the person who installed it. But she was relieved now that he did. She spat quietly and scurried out to her living room. Thump!

Her breathing escalated and she nearly screamed, clenching her teeth to keep quiet. She could not freak out. Screaming would instantly reveal her location in the house. What was it? Maybe… probably just a neighbor’s dog or something.

Thumping against her back sliding door? That would have been impossible.

She grabbed her cell phone and crept into the kitchen, hunting for a big knife. Gasping for courage, she gripped the knife and carefully slid the drapes over the slider back just a crack. She felt a little silly to be sneaking around her darkened home, clutching a carving knife, but that quickly vanished. The previous calm and quiet exploded when she jumped back and screamed bloody murder.

A face. A fucking, masked face was smashed right up against the window. Right there. Right when she opened the drapes. A face wearing a zombie Halloween mask was only separated from her by less than an inch of glass. She scrambled back, still screaming, and already crying. Fumbling in her panic, she dialed the police. Shaking and crying, she kept trying to explain her fear to the operator who answered. She sounded incoherent to the calming voice of the operator who kept calling out, “Ma’am? Ma’am?” Eventually, she managed to utter some frantic words that she strongly believed someone was prowling around her house, but her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears, she couldn’t say for sure. Clutching her weapon and the phone, she again retreated to the bathroom and locked it while she prepared to wait.

It wasn’t long before a knock on her door and the yell of “Police!” drew her out. She cautiously opened the door, carefully setting down her weapon first. Mustering her composure, Chloe explained to the two officers what happened although she was far calmer and more rational than she had been with Ryder.

After a thorough search around her house, the officers came back in with only a tennis ball. An innocent, small, innocuous, common tennis ball. They suggested that might have been the thumping she heard. Shivers froze her entire body. That meant whoever or whatever it was wanted to draw her outside. To notice him. And discover him. It made her stomach drop to the floor. She thanked the men, having already called Chet and the police waited until he got there before they left. After a short recital of common safety suggestions, all of which she was already doing, they tried to appease her, but Chloe was not reassured. Chloe doubted they could do any good. Chet stayed back and out of the way until she finished up with the officers and they eventually left. So what if she’d done the officially right thing to do? She did not feel even a smidgeon better.

Retreating into Chet’s arms, she trembled and shivered as she relived her shock at seeing the mask right there when she opened the drape slightly. “There were only a few thumps. Nothing continuous. It didn’t sound like someone was knocking, so I thought it could have been an animal… I don’t know, maybe a bird or something continuously flying into the window. So I only wanted to sneak a peek and when I did, there it was.”

Chet held her to his chest and rubbed her back. She choked on her tears. She was so tired of crying. It was time for action. Anything but tears. “Someone spent the evening a few days ago knocking on the front door and running away. It was easier to handle then because it was daylight. But they are fucking with me now. They were in here. They took the picture of Ebony and me right off the wall, along with the nail it hung on. They do subtle things, Chet. Until now. See that vase there? It’s been moved. Just a few inches. See this?” she said as she let go of him and gestured for him to follow her. “This was over on my dresser, not on my nightstand.” She pointed to a notepad. “I said that to the cops and they suggested I must have forgotten or misplaced it, or they tell me I’m nitpicking. They told me the first night this all started, it was purely random. But it’s not. I don’t misplace my stuff. I always know within an inch of its location where everything is. I don’t forget, even now, despite all my tears and how I seem spacey. I’m not wrong about this. He’s been here. Inside my house. Touching my things.”

She shuddered and Chet remained quiet, staring at her. She finally added the most horrifying clue. “I’m also missing two pairs of underwear. One is a black and the other is white with little, black polka dots. I know my undergarments. They aren’t lost in the wash and I didn’t forget them at your house, before you try to tell me that. No. I distinctly remember when I last grabbed some stuff, and they were right here.” She pointed to the exact spot in her drawer she had last seen them. “It isn’t a case of remembering the polka dots either, it simply was where they were. That’s the drawer where my underwear goes and I know what I own.”

Chet let her go to follow her inside her bedroom and she rooted around her underwear drawer. “He’s fucking around with me and my stuff. But no one believes me.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Chet replied, “I believe you.”

Chloe shut her eyes and blew out some air. “I want you to stay here. And tomorrow I’m going to put my car in the garage and take your car with me to work. I want you to stay here, just to see if anyone tries anything. And then I’m going to have someone drive me home so we can stake this place out and see if they come back. Okay?”

“I figured when I heard your voice you wouldn’t be staying here alone. I didn’t think you’d want us to stay here, however.”

“I know you’ll get bored, but are you game?”

“Yeah. Sure, if it helps you.”

“I think he comes here whenever I’m gone. Who knows how often he came while I was staying with you? Maybe every day. I have no idea. But I intend to fucking find out. I’m done with crying and hiding. I’m missing out on my own life. This is my house. I refuse to be scared here. You know what’s ironic? I keep a gun in my office at work. It’s locked in my safe. I think I’ll bring it home.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You do?”

She nodded. “I do. Got a problem with that? I keep it there in case we are ever held up. Customer safety. But now? My home is under assault. I’m being threatened. With violence. Violence that was already cruelly directed at my loved one. The one and only person in the whole world who looked like me.” 

“And a crime that was undiscovered, unnoticed, and not even publicized has been blown wide open. The body, and the fact Ebony was murdered, along with all the grisly details of her final letter and the missing money… Someone’s cage is being rattled. Their crime is being exposed. They’re worried about new evidence leading to them being caught. Now I think they’re letting me know that.”

“I wonder why? Just to scare you? Why not just stay quiet and let the police assume whoever murdered Ebony is actually gone? Not around here anymore. A tourist or a trucker passing through who murdered her and left her for dead. Why let it be known that it’s someone, who is still here?”

“Because of the note and the missing money. That’s not random. It wasn’t an accident. No. It had to be someone who knew Ebony and often interacted with her.”

“Any ideas who that could be?”

“None. I’ve wracked my brain and couldn’t find one unusual person in her life. Or someone who noticed her and tried to get her attention or started hanging around her more often. I would know, Chet. We spent so much time together. If someone started giving her unusual but notable interest, even if it were just a mild attraction, first of all, I’d notice it and second, she’d tell me about it.”

“So you think they just started hassling you?”

“Yes. I do. Whoever was wearing that mask meant to scare the living daylights out of me. And it almost worked. But to what end? Why?”

“I don’t think killing someone and leaving them in a swamp is the kind of person who gets motivated by logic or decency.”

She smiled softly, despite the grim reality of their conversation. “Good point. I believe you’re right. Are you okay to do this? Stay here, I mean?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Just bring your gun home.”

“You’re not against having them?”

“No. Not now. I’ve never needed one before but it sounds like you do now. Maybe you should keep it on you at all times. As a precaution.”

Wilting, Chloe fell onto her bed. “You know the most gruesome part? When I bought it, Ebony got so mad at me and kept nagging me to get rid of it. Didn’t like me even keeping it in the safe. She believed it would hurt someone by accident before we could wield it against any intruder or robber at the café. Who knew she’d end up being the murder victim?”

“No one ever thinks they will be. You know, however, that someone did kill your sister, who looked exactly like you.”

“And that’s why I have to find out who it is. Somehow. I can’t go on until I know what happened. I can’t go on without knowing the truth. And Chet?”

He stared at her, waiting.

She held in a breath. “I think, someday, I’ll want to move on. I didn’t feel that way at first. Now, I can see flashes of a happier future and I can envision a time where I might want to. And I think it’s because I met you. I mean, when I really and truly met you, not just passed by you in the kitchen. Do you know what I mean?”

He nodded and pulled her closer to him. “I know what you mean.”

They huddled there together before falling asleep finally.

Days went by and they waited to embark on their plan. Nothing. No one came to her house during the day or night, or at least, no one tried to make themselves known for being there. She didn’t tell Ryder, choosing to keep her private, little decoy plan to herself. She granted Chet all the time off he needed to huddle in her house with her gun as she went about business as normal. When his mother asked about his frequent absences, Chloe told him to call Dok and say he was sick.

In the meantime, her amateur trap didn’t produce anything. When Chet finally came back to work, Chloe carried the weapon on her, keeping it concealed. She was on edge, grumpy, jumpy, and still very sad. But her dauntless response to being threatened did manage to override her previously incapacitating grief.

She was fucking done with that. No more lying around, crying and hiding, feeling so sad. She might as well have rolled over while her sister’s murderer roamed the city free and alive. He scared her. She feared he would ruin her life as cruelly as the murder of her sister had already. No. Hell no. She would track him down and find him. She would see him punished, whether by legal means or not, and she fully intended to see him permanently behind the gates of hell. The violent urge she felt now burned in a fantastic rage that gnawed inside her. She didn’t share that part with anyone, not even Chet. She dared not confide to him that she fantasized about the closure to her sister’s murder and it included at best, a lifelong prison sentence, but even better in her eyes was a sentence of death. Painful, long, and miserable was how the death Chloe imagined would befall whoever killed her sister. Immobilized by grief and panic, Chloe was too terrified to seek revenge. She lacked the strength and skills of committed action. Now, however, she was determined to find the murderer and once and for all, snuff out the fiend that tried to hurt her and killed her sister. If she were subsequently doomed by that reality, she intended to make sure the murderer would be too.