Page 103 of The Woman at the Funeral

“Yeah, been late for woman reasons before too. I get it. And congrats, man. She’s a keeper.”

“Yeah, she is,” I agreed, taking Goya’s leash. “How’d he do?”

“Doesn’t seem to understand that little dogs can’t play as rough as he does. But he’s a good listener. Though, yeah, the squirrels are his arch enemies. Bout took my fuckin’ arm off. Which gives me an idea…”

“On that note,” I cut him off. I appreciated that the Family needed someone like him. But I generally preferred not hearing all the depraved torture techniques he had up in his head. “I gotta get some dinner for Blair.”

“Yeah, yeah, go enjoy your love nest, man.”

I was eager to get back to the safe house, to eat our food, curl up with Blair, and talk about our plans for the future.

So I swung by the Chinese place then we made our way back up the stairs toward the apartment.

“Excited to see Mom, huh?” I asked as he sniffed and scratched at the door when I reached for my keys. “Alright, bud. Calm down,” I said, opening the door.

Goya lurched forward, rushing into the apartment and going right behind the door.

My gaze slid to the table, finding Blair had set it.

But something felt wrong.

It wasn’t until I watched a stream of hot wax slip down the stick and land on the table, piling onto more steadily drying wax that I understood why the feeling was there.

Because Blair, lover of all things clean and organized, would never let wax drip and dry on the table.

It was then that Goya whined, making me turn to see him still behind the door, sniffing something on the ground with his tail tucked.

“What is it?” I asked, stepping closer.

But then I saw it.

Blood.

“Blair?” I yelled, running through the apartment. But I knew. I already knew she was gone.

The bag of Chinese food fell from my hands as I ran back through the house.

Reaching down, I grabbed Goya’s leash and pulled him with me out of the apartment as I reached for my phone.

“I’m working on it, man,” Zeno greeted on the third ring.

“Zen, she’s gone. I need the footage from the camera at the safe house.”

“Blair’s gone? Maybe she just took the dog for a walk.”

“I have Goya. And there’s blood on the floor.”

“Fuck,” Zen hissed. “I’m working on it.”

“I’m on my way to you,” I said, hailing a cab and climbing inside. “I need to call everyone. But if you find something, call me back.”

With that, I gave the cab driver Zeno’s address as I called Leo.

“Yo.”

“They took Blair,” I said.

“Fuck. Okay. I’ll spread the word. What do you need from me?”

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