𝐂 𝐡 𝐚 𝐩 𝐭 𝐞 𝐫  𝟏𝟓

     I STOOD IN the kitchen, listening to the sizzling sound that kept echoing off the walls of the room. Moonlight seeped into the space through the slats of the Venetian blinds.

     Trying to push away the thoughts of Mallory Blake, I stirred up the food in the pan. Mallory’s killer had broken into my car and left behind her wedding ring packaged neatly in a white envelope. Was he trying to send me a message, or was he doing this to torment me? What was the essence of murdering my client and sending me an item of hers? Mallory’s killer had followed me to the rehab center. I didn’t doubt he’d been stalking me. Was this same person responsible for Caldwell and Rosalind’s death? More questions than answers. This wasn’t good.

     I had debated calling Detective Meredith and telling her about this new development. Would they help me? Probably. But I wasn’t convinced. I turned off the stove and walked to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of Chardonnay and returning to the counter.

     I stretched a hand, picked a wineglass, and turned toward the sink, then letting out a sigh, I rinsed the vessel under the running water. The ding-dong echoed in the kitchen. I closed the tap and wiped the glass with a paper towel. Who could that be? I wasn’t expecting anyone. Eva would be home by now, reading a bedtime story to her eight-year-old daughter. She wasn’t the type to drop by unannounced. My family didn’t live close to me.

     It might be one of my neighbors. Ms. Stevenson lived across the street. Her house had that old-fashioned charm and whenever she needed something, she normally called my phone. At sixty-something, I found it odd she’d prefer to stay all by herself. The person behind the door wasn’t Ms. Stevenson. She couldn’t have walked all the way from her house, which made me—

     I moved briskly to the blinds and rotated it. In the glint of the overhead light on the porch, I saw him. He wore a dark suit, the top button unfastened. His hair hung down, shining in the light. What was he doing here? I thought I made it clear I didn’t want to see him ever again. He clutched something. I couldn’t see what it was.

     I pretended I didn’t hear the bell and went ahead to fix myself dinner. When he was tired, he’d just leave, but so many years of marriage had taught me Garry wasn’t the type to relent and go away. Seconds later, the bell rang again. I huffed.

     “Avery, I know you’re in there. Please let me in,” he said loud and clear.

     Something in his voice gave me cold feet. I had decided to be stern toward him. That was the only way to shoo him away. Now, hearing him plead to enter the house we bought together, spent in it years as man and wife... It didn’t feel right. He was human. And like all humans, he was flawed. He’d asked my forgiveness several times, and I knew each one of them was sincere. The problem wasn’t with him.

     If I allowed him into my life again, I’d be reopening old wounds that never healed. I didn’t know his intention right now. Was he doing this to gain my forgiveness or to reenter my life? If it was the latter, I wasn’t sure I’d let him in. That part of me was gone. I was no longer his wife, but apparently, he didn’t understand it.

     “Avery!”

     I took off the apron and hung it on one of the hooks, then reluctantly went to the front door and opened it.

     He stood on my porch, holding a bouquet of roses. How romantic! Except we weren’t in any kind of relationship. If we had anything at all, it would be platonic, so him showing up on my front porch with flowers was out of place for me. I gave him a once-over, noticing the contrition in his eyes.

     There was an impulse to slam the door in his face after warning him to stay away from me, but then I remembered what happened last night, how he’d stopped everything to bring me home in my drunken state.

     “Hi, Garry,” I said coldly.

     “Hi. Sorry for the late pop-in, but I wanted to bring you this.” He brought the bouquet to my face.

     I took it and inhaled the flowery scent. My study would need this. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

     I waited. When he didn’t make a move, I knew he wanted more than to bring me flowers. Men like him were very predictable. I pulled the door wider. “Want to come inside?” I hoped I hadn’t made a mistake letting him into the house.

     He smiled sheepishly. “I could use some company.”

     I sidestepped, and he entered the foyer, the door closing behind him.

     As we walked into the interior, he said, “Something smells good here.”

     I ignored the compliment. “I made dinner. I’ll be right back.” I disappeared into the study.

     When I came back, Garry was sitting in the dining room, his jacket off, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He nursed a bottle of Chardonnay. The weary on his face was perceptible, but as I looked closer, I realized it wasn’t only tiredness that was eating him up.

     “You all right?”

     He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No.”

     I grew concerned. “You want to talk about it?”

     He shifted in the chair and turned to me. “Robert got shot.”

     A lump moved in my throat. “When? Is he okay?”

     Robert and Garry had been inseparable like conjoined twins. I remembered the many nights they’d stopped here to study a case. Just like Garry, he was also in love with his work. I had hung out with his wife, Lara in the past, but the friendship died when I divorced and isolated myself from them.

     He peered at me. “You don’t have to worry. He’s fine now.”

     I exhaled. “You need to be careful out there,” I said and I meant it. I still cared about him, not like how I did in the past. I couldn’t stand the thought of him getting hurt.

     “I can protect myself,” he said.

     “I know, Garry. You’re a defense attorney, which means you make enemies all the time.”

     I recalled how a disgruntled relative of one of his clients vandalized our house years back. Till now, the thought gave me chills. How the person had gotten access to our home address was still not known, although Garry was sure he must’ve stalked him. People sometimes don’t understand the difference between a profession and one’s personal life. If I had a grudge against someone, I wouldn’t target their family or loved ones. That was cruel, but I’d learned somewhere it was the only way to hit someone where it hurt the most.

     None of my clients knew where I stayed, and I intended to keep it that way. All it’d take was for one of them to find out my home address and abuse it. I had no plans of leaving this house. I had so many memories here I’d rather hold onto.

     “We all have enemies.” He met my eyes. “It’s only fair to assume that. You can’t be too careful.”

     My eyes penetrated his. Just then, Meredith’s hunch kicked in. Did I have enemies too? Of course. But whoever this person was, I wasn’t sure I knew them. Detective Spade’s words rang.

     No offence, but isn’t that what you do for a living? Ruin people’s relationship?

     Was that how he saw relationship therapists? As individuals who made money from ruining people’s relationships? Well, that’s twisted. And what did he imply by ruining people’s relationships? Detective Spade didn’t like me—that was for sure. Was it because he thought I was hiding something, or was there something more to it? I have helped many couples through infidelity, counseled marriages in crisis, and resolved family disputes. In each of them, all I did was listen and find the problem, then we tackled it.

     It’s so shocking how we undermine the essence of verbal communication. Once, I helped a couple on the verge of a divorce by telling them to go on a date with their phones locked away. The next morning, they were at my office, thanking me.

     But every job had its bad side. That was the reality. I had also seen clients who ended up leaving their relationship, and they told me it was their best decision ever. If I had ruined people’s relationships, then it wasn’t deliberate. Not all relationships were good for our mental health. Sometimes the only solution was to quit. But I had never suggested that to any of my clients. They made their own decisions.

     “You’re quiet all of a sudden,” Garry said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

     I stiffened. I almost forgot he was here. “Just thinking.”

     He took my hands. “What are you thinking about?”

     I gently withdrew them. No way I was going to tell him anything. “Are you hungry?”

     A short while later, Garry and I sat in the dining room. It was reminiscent of our marriage days, just that something was missing. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but when I looked at the seat next to mine, I knew what was missing. The chair was empty. Mathew. He was supposed to be sitting there and saying something like, “Mom, could you pass me the jug?”

     I heard the words ring in my ears. It almost sounded as though he’d spoken them, but I knew too much to believe it was real. I picked a glass of water and sipped.

     Garry said one of his jokes.

     I giggled. It wasn’t something I used to do.

~

    On the lonely street that meandered in the neighborhood, a figure stood watching the house. He saw through the half-opened window in the gleam of the overhead light.

     Dr. Avery Newton sat across from a man he couldn’t see his face. They were having dinner and laughing. She should enjoy the moment while it lasted. She wouldn’t live happily ever after, not after the sin she committed. She had to be taught actions had consequences. The deaths of her clients were only the beginning. He had to move from them and start with someone closer to her—someone she’d truly languish when he or she died. Judging from their smiles, she must know the man very well. Her boyfriend? Maybe.

     It’d be fun to send her a parcel with the head of her boyfriend wrapped in it. He smirked. Dr. Avery had no idea what was coming. If she did, she’d have sought his forgiveness.