After that night, I started watching every car parked outside our building. Rachel acted as if nothing had changed. But every time tires stopped on the street, her eyes went to the window.
“You think they know you’re here?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“I’m not stupid enough to let them follow me.”
I didn’t answer. I’d learned something about Rachel. The more certain she sounded—the more frightened she usually was.
* * *
One afternoon Mara had to go to the hospital for test results. I went with her. Before leaving, I told Rachel: “Don’t open the door for anybody.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not five.”
Forty minutes later, my security app buzzed. DEVICE OFFLINE.
I frowned. “Camera lost connection.”
Mara looked up. “Wi-Fi?”
“No idea.”
I called Rachel. No answer. Again. Nothing. A cold, crawling fear moved down my back. Then she called.
“Where were you?”
“Downstairs getting cigarettes.”
“Why didn’t you answer?”
“Phone was inside.”
“The camera went offline.”
“So?”
“Anybody come by?”
“No.”
Her voice sounded normal. I tried to believe her. When Mara and I got home, the camera had reconnected by itself. No saved footage from the outage. No obvious sign that anyone had been inside.
I asked Noah: “Anybody come over today?”
Rachel answered for him. “No.”
I looked at him. He stared down at his toy cars. Mara looked like she might collapse from exhaustion. Lucy started crying. I let it go.
That night, a gray sedan sat across the street for almost an hour. I watched it from behind the curtain. Then pulled the curtain shut.
* * *
The next morning, Rachel asked: “When does Dad’s pension hit again?”
Mara stopped pouring coffee. “Can you not?”
“I’m asking.”
“Dad isn’t even buried.”
“That’s because Evan won’t bury him.”
“Keep your voice down.”
“Why? Everybody in this apartment already knows.”
Mara said: “The kids don’t.”
Rachel glanced at Noah. “At least one does.”
My chest tightened. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” She looked away. “Kids know when adults are hiding something.”
I didn’t believe her. Then she said: “Next month I get half.”
Mara’s expression hardened. “No.”
“You don’t decide that.”
“That money pays for my medication.”
“What about me and my son?”
“You have two hands. You can work.”
Rachel flushed. “You calling me a parasite?”
“Enough!” I shouted.
Neither of them stopped. Rachel pointed toward the refrigerator. “This apartment belonged to Dad.”
“Don’t drag him into this.”
“He had two children.”
“So?”
“Then everything he had belongs to both of us.”
Something furious and ugly broke loose inside me. “Fine.” I walked toward the refrigerator. “You want to split things?”
Mara stood. “Evan.”
“Let’s split everything.”
“Money.”
“Property.”
“Whatever else is left.”
I grabbed the freezer handle. “Want to split Dad too?”
I yanked the door open. Cold air rolled out. I looked inside. And stopped breathing.
Empty. No blanket. No plastic. No Dad.
For several panicked seconds, one impossible thought came into my head. Dad left. He got tired of hiding. Opened the door. Walked away. Then reason returned.
“Where’s Dad?”
Rachel stared. “What?”
“Where is he?”
“How would I know?”
Mara had gone white. “You move him?”
“No.”
“Rachel?”
“No!”
I slammed the door. Knock.
“No one knew except us.”
A small voice came from behind me. “I know.”
All three of us turned. Noah stood in the hallway. I rushed over. “What do you know?”
“Two men came yesterday.”
Rachel went pale. “What men?”
“One had a black hood.”
Rachel and I looked at each other. “The other?”
“Really tall.”
My hands started shaking. “How’d they get in?”
“I don’t know.” Noah frowned. “Mom went downstairs. Then the little light by the door went off.”
The camera. It hadn’t broken. Someone had created a blind spot.
“What happened after they came in?”
“They looked for stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then?”
Noah pointed toward the refrigerator. “They found Grandpa.”
I could barely hear my own heartbeat. “What did they do?”
“They said Grandpa couldn’t hide here anymore.” He spoke as if this were perfectly ordinary. “Then they took him.”
“Why didn’t you tell your mom?”
Noah looked confused. “You told me not to.”
I froze. “You said if I told Mom, Grandpa would lose.”
Guilt hit me so hard it felt physical. My lie had trained a five-year-old to stay quiet while two strangers carried my father’s body out of the apartment.
* * *
Rachel’s phone buzzed. A text. She tried to hide it. I grabbed the phone.
Give back what you took from Vince. Otherwise the next people who see your old man will be cops.
I read it twice. Then looked at Rachel. “What did you take?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re still lying?”
“Give me my phone.”
“They stole Dad’s body.”
“I know!”
“Then what did you take?”
Her face crumpled for the first time. “Rachel.”
“What do they want?”
She looked at the empty refrigerator. Then at Noah. Finally: “A ledger.”
“What ledger?”
Her voice dropped. “One that could put a lot more than a few card rooms in trouble.”
Dad was gone. But the empty refrigerator had exposed a secret even bigger than the one we’d been hiding inside it.
3 thoughts on “CHAPTER 5 — GRANDPA IS GONE”