Alafair Burke - Long Gone

She closed her eyes again and willed the noise to stop. It did not.

The parquet floor felt cold beneath her bare feet as she padded to the front door and held down the intercom button. “You’re leaning on a stranger’s doorbell, asshole. Go. Home.”

She prepared herself for one of the usual retorts. “Bitch” was most common. Occasionally she got an actual apology. More than a few times she’d been invited to join the drunk for one last round. But tonight’s visitor was not the usual fare.

“It’s Jeff. Let me up.”

She had just managed to tie her robe by the time he burst through the door she had left cracked open. She smelled alcohol as he slipped past her.

“It’s almost one in the morning.”

“I’ve been trying to call you.”

“It’s sleeping time.” After one too many failed calls to Ben, she had decided that an Ambien sounded pretty good. Off went the ringer on her home phone, and off went the cell. She noticed the message light blinking on her answering machine on the kitchen counter. “What’s going on?”

“Have you heard anything further from the police?”

“No. I was following your advice not to talk to them anymore, and they haven’t tried to contact me anyway.” She had half expected another visit from the detectives after she filed the report about the green Toyota, but the rest of the day had been uneventful.

“I hate to tell you this, but I think things are about to get worse.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Your gloves. Please tell me you have those gloves you love so much. The ones with the fur inside of them that you pretend is fake.”

“Faux faux fur?”

“Yes. Please tell me you have those. Physically. In your possession.”

“No. They went missing last week. I bought another pair but the fur’s not the same-”

“The police have them, Alice. Or I assume they do. They showed me a picture of those gloves inside a plastic bag and asked me if you owned a pair like that.”

“You’re sure they’re mine?”

“I wasn’t until you just told me yours are missing. But, yeah, they’ve got that same pattern on them and everything.”

“Crocodile-embossed,” she muttered. “The police went to your apartment at one in the morning to ask you about my gloves?” She knew that what he was telling her was important, but she still felt groggy from sleep. She still pictured herself standing in her father’s office, staring at the gaudy wallpaper.

“He showed up at a bar, actually. He said his name was Danes?” She nodded. “I assume he followed me to try to catch me off guard. Nothing like having a cop show up at your table at Temple Bar.”

She knew the place. It had been one of their favorites when they first got together. It was the kind of place that people chose for dates.

“So did it work?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did Danes catch you off guard?”

“No. That’s why I’m here. I told them I’d had conversations with you in a legal capacity and therefore would not be discussing anything with them. But it’s not going to be that hard for them to prove those gloves are yours. And if they’re asking around about those gloves, it’s for a reason. They must have Drew’s blood on them or something.”

“You know what they say: ‘If the glove doesn’t fit, you must acquit . ’”

“What is wrong with you, Alice? This isn’t funny.”

“At this point, it’s actually pretty fucking hilarious. Of course they have my gloves. They were already missing by the time I found Drew’s body, but you know what? I’m sure you’re right. They’ve probably got Drew’s blood on them-plenty of his DNA, and my DNA, and every other piece of evidence you could possibly imagine. Because that’s how this is going to play out. Whoever did this to me, did it with absolute perfection. And I have no idea who did it. Or why. Or what any of it has to do with me.”

“You don’t have to go through this alone.” He placed his hand on her wrist, but she pulled away.

“Of course I’m alone. You’ve been a good friend, but you know, this isn’t happening to you. You’re at fucking Temple Bar drinking champagne with a date.”

He looked at the floor and swallowed.

“I’m sorry. I’m tired, and I’m scared, and I’m being a total bitch. Thanks for not digging my hole any deeper with the police.” She walked to the front door and opened it. He pushed it shut.

“I didn’t like being there with someone else.”

“Where?”

“At Temple Bar. She was the one who suggested it. I thought I could be there and not think about you. I was wrong.”

She felt a tear tickling her cheek, and didn’t know whether it was there because of the stress of her current predicament or the memory of what her life had once been-her life with Jeff and the one she’d thought they’d always have together. He stepped toward her and ran his fingers through her hair. Placed a palm against the nape of her neck. It felt so familiar. They’d done this hundreds of times before. This part had never been their problem. He would pull her face toward his. He would kiss her lips, gently at first and then not so gently. He would know exactly where to place his hands on her body. The exact moment to lead her to the bedroom.

And she let it all happen.

For the first time in a miserable week, Alice felt a smile on her face when she woke up. Jeff rustled the curtains trying to pull his clothes on in the dark.

“Love ’em and leave ’em, huh?”

“I’ve got a deposition in an hour. I was trying not to wake you.”

She felt warm beneath the comforter and pushed the covers down to her waistline. She looked up at him, squinting to protect herself from the sunlight penetrating the parted curtains.

“That is so unfair.”

“What? I’m just lying here.”

That was apparently all it took to persuade him to fall back into bed with her. A few seconds later, however, Jeff suddenly sat up in bed to face her.

“I feel like I need to apologize to you for this.”

“What are you talking about?” She tugged at his elbow, trying to nudge him back to horizontal.

“I feel like I took advantage of you when you’re probably in a fragile place.”

“Fragile? Did you really just call me fragile?”

“No, because I have absolutely no desire to have my ass kicked. But I did wake up wondering if last night-after everything that has been happening to you this week-was the best time for, you know, us .”

“I’m a grown-up, Jeff. I make my own decisions. And, in case you couldn’t tell, I was definitely a willing participant in last night’s activities.”

“I guess I’m just surprised that you’re willing to fall back into the same pattern that, at least at one point, made you so unhappy. I remember you telling me how unhappy you were, and that’s not what I want, Alice. It’s why I’ve tried-to the point of misery, even-to find another woman I can care about half as much as you.”

She pulled the covers back up to her shoulders. “Not the best time to talk to me about other women.”

“My point was that nothing ever works with anyone else, and it’s because you and I always fall back into the same patterns.”

“You really think it’s the same this time?”

“Isn’t it always with us? We’ve been doing this for years. And it never seems to be enough for one of us, so we call it quits. But then we see each other as friends, and it can never stay just-friends. And then we’re back to being us again.”

“It’s always been enough for me, Jeff. In light of what I’ve learned about my parents’ marriage in the past year, maybe I just wasn’t trained to dream of the traditional wedding package and the kids in the yard with a picket fence. We’ve always been good friends. And there’s always been love between us, no matter what phase of our continuing cycles we’re in. That’s enough for me. You’re the one who needs something I can’t give you, and I don’t want to keep you from having everything you want: a woman who can be mother to your children and a family you can take care of for life. I have never wanted to stand in the way of that.”