Chapter 6: The First Crack
By late morning, the apartment had become unbearable.
Liam had checked the stairwells, the laundry room, the parking lot, and the narrow strip of trees behind the building. He had called Nora’s phone until the ringing from the balcony stopped meaning anything. He had walked the block twice in the cold, scanning sidewalks and bus stops as if she might simply be sitting somewhere waiting for him to become a different man.
She was nowhere.
Gwen returned just before noon with coffee and a list of places she claimed to have called: two clinics, a cousin of Nora’s who barely spoke to her anymore, and the front desk of the building where Nora’s mother was supposed to be receiving treatment. According to Gwen, no one had seen her.
“She’s punishing you,” Gwen said, setting the coffee on the counter. “Mark my words. She’ll reappear the moment she believes you’ve suffered enough.”
Liam stared at the wet trail that still darkened parts of the living-room floor. The marks had begun to dry at the edges, but the path remained visible—from the front door to the balcony, deliberate and unbroken.
“If she was only punishing me,” he said slowly, “why come back through the front door soaking wet? Why leave the coat under the tree? Why leave the ring?”
Gwen waved the questions away.
“Because drama works on you. It always has.”
That was the moment the first real crack appeared.
Not because Gwen was wrong about everything, but because she was too certain, too quickly, about things she could not possibly know. She had not touched the wet floor. She had not studied the handprint. She had not looked at the coat long enough to notice the missing button or the way the scarf had been dropped separately, as if torn free in motion.
Liam looked at his sister and felt something unfamiliar move under his loyalty.
Doubt.
“I want to see the call log,” he said.
Gwen blinked. “What?”
“The places you called. I want the numbers.”
For the first time that morning, her expression tightened.
“You’re going to waste time checking up on me while your wife plays hide-and-seek across the city?”
“Yes,” Liam said.
The word came out quieter than anger, harder than fear.
Gwen studied him for a long second, then gave a short, disappointed laugh.
“Fine. Check whatever you want. But don’t come crying to me when she makes a fool of you again.”
She left the list on the counter and walked out.
Liam waited until the door closed before he picked it up.
May you like
Three of the numbers were real.
One of them was not.
