I END up letting Caleb take me out to dinner. I don’t quite feel like being alone or going home to my empty house, so we go to a chain restaurant and get some food. But we don’t talk much. My thoughts keep going back to Dawn and what could have happened to her. I can’t even articulate my worst fears.
When Caleb and I get out of the restaurant, the sun has dropped precipitously in the sky. In another ten or fifteen minutes, it will be dark. He squints up at the horizon. “Are you going to be okay getting home? You still seem a little shaky.”
“Yes,” I say, although it does make me nervous, given the afternoon I had.
He raises his eyebrows at me. “I know we both have our cars, but I could follow you if you want. Make sure you get home okay.”
“That is so sweet.” I lift my chin and pucker up, prompting him to kiss me. He grins and lowers his lips onto mine. “You are so sweet. But I’m fine. Really.”
“Okay. But text me when you get home.”
I squeeze his hand. I do wish I didn’t have my car and could get a ride home in Caleb’s Ford. But it seems silly to make him follow me home,
especially since he lives in the opposite direction. And what are we going to do once we get to my place? Make out? I’m certainly not in the mood for that.
Still, I wish he were coming with me. Maybe I should have taken him up on his offer.
When I’m halfway home, my phone starts ringing. “Mom” is flashing on my car’s phone display. I contemplate letting it go to voicemail, but I have a bad feeling I know why she’s calling. If I don’t answer, she’ll just call back.
“Natalie!” My mother always sounds like she’s shouting on the other line. She’s never learned to regulate the volume of her voice on the phone. “I just heard the news on the television. They said a woman at your company went missing!”
“Yes.” I don’t mention the fact that I was the one who discovered that Dawn was missing. I don’t think that information would go over well.
“Did you know her?”
“A little.” Again, she doesn’t need to know that Dawn occupied the cubicle immediately next to mine. That we shared a wall for nine months.
“God, how awful.” She sniffles. “Is it safe to work over there? I don’t like that neighborhood.”
“Nothing happened at work. It happened at her house in Quincy.” “What happened? I thought she disappeared.”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. “Look, work is safe. I don’t do anything unsafe.”
“I know, but honey, Daddy and I worry about you living all alone. I don’t think it’s safe for you to be in a house all by yourself.”
“You wouldn’t think that if I were a man.”
“Exactly! It’s not safe for a single woman.” Her voice takes on a whiny tone that makes my skin crawl. “You need to get married, Natalie. Enough of this… whatever it is you’re doing. Find a nice guy and settle down.”
I grit my teeth. “What do you think I’m trying to do?”
“Well, you’re not trying very hard! You’re a beautiful girl. You could have any man you want. Just pick one of them!”
I start to explain that it’s not so simple. But I have had this conversation with her hundreds if not thousands of times before. Possibly millions. She’s never going to get it. I’m just wasting my breath.
Of course, I could tell her about Caleb. I can tell her that things have been going really well with him, and he just might be her son-in-law someday. He’s cute and he’s a good guy and he’s good during a traumatic situation. But I don’t want to get her hopes up. It’s still early with Caleb, and truthfully, I don’t feel like fielding a zillion questions about him.
“I have to go,” I mumble. “Where are you now?” “I’m driving home.”
“Will you call me when you get home?”
A vein pulses in my temple. When Caleb asked me to text him when I got home, it was sweet. When my mom asks for the same thing, it’s annoying.
“Mom.” I am on the verge of losing my temper. “I’m a grown woman. I’m not going to call you every day when I get home from work. I’m fine. You have to trust me.”
Before this can turn into an argument, I disconnect the call. Anyway, my house is on the next block.
Like Dawn, I rent out a small house. It’s two stories with two small bedrooms and one bathroom and unfortunately no garage. I could have gotten an apartment like Caleb, but I like having the privacy of my own house. The rents aren’t cheap in Dorchester, but it’s worth it. Technically, Dorchester is part of Boston, but it was originally a separate town, and because it’s so big, sometimes it feels separate from the rest of the city. When I’m driving from my house to the back bay or the south end, I usually say, “I’m going into Boston,” even though I was technically in Boston to begin with.
Most people in my neighborhood are renting houses, and most of them are small like mine. My house is more of a cottage, constructed from brown bricks back in the early 20th century, now slightly crumbling, with vines running along the sides of the walls. It’s never been renovated, and you can tell. Whenever I turn a doorknob, it feels like it’s about to come off in my hand, and the entire house has a total of about three power outlets. Yet it still costs a small fortune to rent.
During the day, my house looks quaint. But as I pull up on my quiet street, I can’t help but compare it to the house I saw earlier today. The small house on a quiet street like mine, with all the lights out inside.
My stomach churns. I used to have a can of mace that I carried in my purse. I needed it for a while, but that situation has thankfully ended, and at some point, I ditched the mace. I did take a self-defense course a few years ago, but my skills are decidedly rusty, and also, there’s nothing quite like a weapon.
I wish I had taken Caleb up on his offer to come home with me.
I climb out of my car, clutching my purse against my stomach. I hit the key fob, and the horn honks twice as the door locks click into place. The moon is absent from the sky tonight. My neighborhood looks so dark in the evening, with just a few dim street lights dotting the sidewalk, especially since we set the clocks back last week.
As quickly as I can, I sprint down my walkway to the front door. My keys are still in my hand, and I fit the door key into the lock. I turn it to the right to unlock the door, but it doesn’t turn. That’s when I realize:
The door isn’t locked.
I take a step back. Why isn’t my front door locked? What the hell? Okay, there’s some possibility I forgot to lock the door this morning.
Despite what my mother said, I live in a decent neighborhood. There aren’t any break-ins around here. So yes, I do sometimes forget to lock the door behind me in the morning.
Did I forget this morning? Entirely possible.
I walk over to the window. I cup my hands over my eyes to peer inside. The inside of my house looks completely dark. I don’t see any movement. No burglars. No murderers.
I can’t very well call the police about this. Hey, 911, my house is unlocked. I could call Caleb, but I’m going to use up a lot of girlfriend points if I make him come all the way over here from his apartment just to walk me into my house for two minutes.
Screw it. I’m sure it’s fine.
I twist the doorknob and push the door open, watching for signs of movement inside my house. It still looks completely dark. Silent.
“Hello?” I call out. It’s the same thing I did when I was at Dawn’s house. I try not to think about that.
I take a deep breath and step into the foyer. I hit the light switch.
Half of me is expecting to see some intruder in a black tracksuit and face mask standing in the middle of my living room. Instead, the living room is empty. It looks exactly the way I left it this morning.
My phone buzzes inside my purse, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I fumble around between a pack of Kleenex and my compact, and I pull out my phone. There’s a blocked number on the screen, just like earlier at work. I swipe to answer.
“Hello?”
I wait to hear a string of foreign language or somebody asking me if I want to update my auto insurance, but instead, I hear only silence.
Or maybe breathing.
“Hello?” I say yet again. Nothing.
I pull the phone away from my ear to disconnect the call, my heart pounding in my chest. I used to get calls like that all the time, sometimes with just silence, but sometimes with a string of threats on the other line. But I haven’t gotten a call like that since… well, it’s been several months. I doubt it’s that same person—they have no reason to hate me anymore.
Although I did get that other blocked call during my podcast. Could it be from the same number?
Just as I’m starting to panic, a text message pops up on the screen. It’s from Caleb, and the sight of it fills me with relief:
Make it home okay?
I step into the living room. I flick on a second light. The entire first floor of my house now is completely quiet. There’s nobody here.
I’m fine. Thanks for checking.
I drop my keys on the table next to the front door and then plop down on the leather sofa in my living room. I need to chill out. What happened to Dawn is horrible, but it has nothing to do with me. Nobody is out to get me.
