Page 70 of Rest In Peace

Monica's breath hitched. The room—Victoria's sanctuary—was silent. Too silent. The gentle creak of the opening door seemed to thunder in the stillness.

"Victoria?" she called again, her voice now a sharp note slicing through the quiet. No response. The warmth drained from her tone, replaced by an edge of urgency that had no place in this nightly ritual.

She stepped inside, the tray balanced with practiced poise. Something was off. Her eyes darted, catching fragments of the room.

"Victoria?" The word shattered, splintering into silence.

Monica's fingers loosened their hold involuntarily, the tray tilting, a slow-motion dance of china and silver. It slipped from her numb grasp, the clatter of dishes exploding against the hush like a clap of thunder, soup splashing onto the carpet in a wild arc of amber.

The shock rooted her to the spot, the echo of broken porcelain filling the room, rebounding off walls that should've bounced back laughter, not this hollow sound of distress.

“But it’s… that’s impossible….”

Her granddaughter's bed was empty, the sheets still crumpled, the pillow devoid of the little head that should've been denting it. Her wheelchair was by the side of the bed. The girl hadn’t been able to walk for years.

A chill crept up Monica's spine, whispering dread into her ear.

Where in the world was Victoria?

Chapter 53

Rapping sharply on the door, I waited for Adam's response. Silence hugged the air, thick and unyielding. A second attempt, louder this time. Nothing. Hand steady, I reached out, grasping the doorknob. It turned with ease, a silent invitation into the unknown.

"Federal Bureau of Investigation!" My voice boomed through the open doorway, slicing the quiet. "I'm coming in!"

Stepping over the threshold, my senses sharpened. Eyes darting, gun held in a practiced grip by my side, I advanced, every nerve tingling with the possibility of what lay ahead.

The air felt cold in the house, the kind that seeps into your bones and settles there. I walked, my steps measured and heavy, toward the foot of the stairs where Nicki's life had spilled out onto the polished wood. The stain was still there, a darker patch that whispered of the violence it had witnessed. My chest tightened, my heart sinking as I stopped at the edge of the scene.

I thought about the suitcase they had found by the stairs, packed with her belongings. It didn't make sense. The pieces didn't fit.

"You were leaving… not ending," I muttered to the silence, trying to piece together the shattered logic of it all. She'd been planning something, going somewhere.

"Why were you running, Nicki?" I asked the empty room, knowing no answer would come but asking nonetheless.

I started with the living room, eyes scanning for anything out of place. Dust settled on picture frames—memories frozen in time, smiles that hadn't faded even as the people in them had.

"Focus," I whispered to myself.

The kitchen next. Dishes piled up in the sink. Upstairs, the hallway was silent, save for the soft creaking of floorboards beneath my feet. Bedroom doors ajar, begging me to delve into their secrets.

"Adam?" No answer came. I didn't expect one.

Their bedroom felt hollow. I flicked on the light, squinting against the sudden brightness. My gaze swept from corner to corner, hungering for a clue, a sign, anything.

"Nothing? Really?" My frustration simmered. Then I saw it—the slightly open closet door beckoning. I approached with my heart drumming a steady beat of anticipation.

"All right, let's see what you're hiding."

Hangers clinked together, too many empty spaces where Adam's clothes should have been. Shirts, jackets, pants—all gone. A neat freak like Adam leaving his wardrobe gutted? It churned my stomach. Unease crept in, and suspicion bloomed.

"Where'd you go, Adam? Running or chasing?"

I ran my fingers along the vacant rods, each empty hanger an accusation, a question left hanging in the air.

The vibration in my pocket jolted me from the emptiness of Adam's closet. I fished out my phone, eyes still roving over the barren wardrobe.

"Agent Thomas speaking."

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