Navigating down the long driveway, the shingle-style colonial came into view, the overwhelming size serving as a bitter reminder of their small family. Olivia tried to fill the gaps by fostering rescue dogs from time to time, but it wasn’t the same. No amount of paws could fill the void left in her heart…in all their hearts. Melanie no longer asked for a little brother or sister. Olivia would never admit it to Alexander, but he had overheard her whispers to Kiera, her best friend, that she felt as if she were a failure as a woman. Whenever Alexander had to get something out of storage and stumbled across all the nursery furniture they had saved from when Melanie was a baby, he couldn’t help but feel as if he were a failure, too.
Slowing the SUV to a stop, Alexander stared at the stillness of the house during the early morning hour. A light drizzle fell, melting part of the blanket of snow that had fallen the previous week. A slight smile crossed his face as he recalled a recent conversation he had with his daughter. They were decorating the Christmas tree, which seemed to become more and more difficult every year due to their cat, Nepenthe, taking up residence in the branches the instant the tree arrived. When he asked Melanie what she wanted for Christmas this year, she said all she wanted was for it to snow since that was what the reindeer and Santa were used to.
He gazed down at her, growing nostalgic as the little girl continued placing decorations on the tree, their dog, Runner, behind her every step of the way. Alexander was more than aware this may be the last Christmas Melanie believed in Santa.
When Olivia and Alexander were expecting her, people told them time and time again to cherish the early days, despite the lack of sleep, because they grew up so fast. Nothing could have been more true. In the blink of an eye, it seemed like their little girl had become a little lady. In just a few years, she would be a teenager, trading their time together to go shopping with friends. Growing up was inevitable, but Alexander would give anything to keep her young and innocent for just a little while longer. He witnessed the cruelties of the world almost daily. He didn’t want Melanie exposed to any of that.
When a light flicked on in one of the second-floor windows, he could almost feel Olivia’s warmth as she woke up. He had spent the past few hours formulating what he would tell her when she asked why he had to leave in the middle of the night. It wasn’t the first time he had done so and it wouldn’t be the last, but this was different. How could he look in his wife’s eyes and tell her it was just another case? Nothing could be further from the truth.
Driving the SUV up the remainder of the cobblestone path, he pulled it into the large garage and stepped out. Walking into the kitchen through the garage entrance, a low light illuminated the large, open space. Alexander made his way to the counter and popped a pod into the one-cup brewer. The early hour and lack of sleep were starting to catch up to him. He considered crawling back into bed, but knew his mind wouldn’t let him sleep…not until he had more answers.
The past few hours, as he drove around listlessly, he kept telling himself this wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t possibly have foreseen something like this happening to Mischa of all people, a woman who, much like her brother, dedicated her life to making other people’s lives better. Still, there was a nagging feeling buried deep within that had he stayed in touch with her, things may have been different.
Watching the dark liquid trickle into his mug, the aroma of coffee finding its way to his senses, Alexander contemplated who could have been responsible for Mischa’s death, each thought more hopeless than the last. From what he knew, which wasn’t much, she didn’t have any enemies. She lived a simple life. Granted, it had been almost a year since they last spoke. Still, nothing about the woman he remembered would make him come to the conclusion this was anything other than an unfortunate, brutal murder at the hands of a local serial killer. Still, something about it didn’t add up, particularly after receiving additional information from Dave. The extensive bruising, the restraint marks on her wrists and ankles, coupled with the lacerations on her face, neck, arms, and torso raised Alexander’s suspicions that Mischa had been targeted specifically. This wasn’t just an instance of her being in the wrong place at the wrong time, as they believed to be the case with the rest of his victims. This looked personal.
“Hey,” a soft voice murmured as a slender arm wrapped around his midsection, bringing him out of his cloud of remorse.
He turned around, a calm washing over him for the first time all night when he gazed at his rock, his life, his everything. Olivia’s five-foot, nine-inch frame was dressed in a long, silk robe, the ivory color a stark contrast to her olive-toned skin. Her curly, dark brown hair was disheveled, and Alexander wanted nothing more than to get lost in her to forget about the past few hours.
“Hey,” he breathed, pulling her close.
This was what he needed, her warmth enclosed in his arms. He kissed the top of her head, inhaling the heavenly aroma of vanilla. Despite their nearly decade-long marriage, he found himself falling in love with her all over again each and every day — with her smile, her laugh, her spirit. Until Melanie was born, she was the only girl he had ever loved. He didn’t think it would be possible to love another human as much as he loved Olivia, but he was wrong. Olivia was his heart, but Melanie was the blood that kept it beating. She was his reason for wanting to be a better man.
“Late-night emergency?” She leaned her head against his chest.
“Mmm-hmm,” he answered, closing his eyes as he lost himself in her embrace. He refused to let go, her devotion to him giving him strength. Rocking from foot to foot, they swayed to the music only they could hear, moving in unison, the tempo in their heads identical, regardless of the stiff silence in the room.
“What was it this time?” She tilted her head back, wrapping her arms around his neck, playing with a little tuft of hair that had grown over his collar. He had meant to make time for a haircut, but work was busy lately. Olivia didn’t seem to mind, though. She said she liked when his hair grew out a little because it reminded her of the unkempt, disheveled hair he sported when they started dating.
He stared into her beautiful brown eyes, his gaze raking over her soft complexion. Luckily, Melanie had inherited all her mother’s traits — her thick, dark hair, her high cheekbones, her passion for music and animals. But there was no denying their daughter had inherited Alexander’s eyes, the green as vibrant as freshly cut grass.
“A dead body in Boston,” he murmured.
“What?” Olivia gasped, stepping away from him, studying his face.