The line goes dead.

  This is much worse than simple financial trouble. A rush of blood floods my head, hot and sudden, until the edges of the room began to hum like a live wire. I catch the faint sound of the shower turning off. I sit the phone down as Adrian’s footsteps bring him back into our room. A towel clings to his waist, another draped behind his neck, I watch him head for the closet.

  They knew my name.

  And

  What else was there—what did they mean?

  My home? My life?

  I can’t ignore this. Adrian is hiding something. Something dangerous.

  He walks out the closet, looping his tie around the collar of his dress shirt. “I’m heading into the office,” he said. “Annual review today.”

  I curl myself in the middle of the bed, draw my knees up, and wrap my arms around them. I press my chin into the cradle of my forearms. “You’ve ironed that shirt twice.”

  He glances down at it. “It was wrinkled.”

  “It wasn’t,” I say. “You just needed something to fix.”

  Adrian turns toward me; a thin smile plastered on his face. “I’ll probably be late.”

  “Of course you will.”

  He exhaled through his nose, tired. “Look, I’m sorry about the other night. I don’t want to fight.”

  “I don’t want to guess,” I retort.

  He checks his phone. “Look, if something’s bothering you, just say it.”

  “I did,” I sighed. “You filed it away.”

  He holds my gaze, and I search his face for some sign that he understands. Adrian’s eyes soften for a second, maybe he wants to say something.

  He doesn’t.

  He heads toward the bedroom door. “Lock up if you go out,” he called.

  “I won’t,” I whisper to myself. I’ll be staying in until I figure you out.

  The second his car pulls out the driveway; I head for his home office. Without thinking twice, I step inside. It’s tidy in the way he likes, desk cleared off, chair pushed in, everything quiet and still, like he’s already been in here today.

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  The first drawer opens with ease. The files are stacked neatly and organized. I grab the stack and start thumbing through the bank statements, scanning the numbers. I start to line the papers back up when something catches my eye.

  Transfers.

  Same amount, repeatedly, on the same dates. All sent to accounts he has never mentioned.

  I stare at the numbers, trying to make sense of them. My heart sinks as the pattern settles in my chest.

  He stole from the company he used to work for.

  A soft clatter breaks my train of thought as I slide the files back into the drawer. I crouch and reach beneath the desk, my fingers brush against dust and the smooth edge of something small. I pull it out and hold it in my palm.

  A flash drive.

  I turn it over; my thumb traces the label. For a moment, I just stare at it. Why would he need something protected? And from who?

  I think about how carefully he keeps this room. Nothing is ever out of place unless it’s meant to be hidden. This wasn’t meant to be found, then again, I don’t usually find myself going through his office.

  I close my hand around the drive, my pulse picking up in my throat. If he didn’t want me to see what was on this, then I’m already too close.

  I glance toward the hallway as I hear a car pull into the driveway. Shit. I quickly shove everything back into the drawer and try to steady my breathing.

  I’m not ready to confront him yet, not without knowing everything. There are more questions that need answers. I tuck the drive in the pocket of my house robe.

  The click of the front door sends me scrambling. I rush out the of the office, my hand trembling on the knob as I pull the door closed behind me.I hurry toward the front door as Adrian enters.

  I meet him in the hallway, and he looks up at me with an unreadable expression. “I forgot my flash drive for the review,” he says, rushing past me. “Dammit,” I heard him mutter. His footsteps head for the office. Seconds later, I hear the door close. I go upstairs, desperate for a way to quiet the thoughts crowding my mind.

  Alarica ran the same loop through the park every morning, tracing the curve of the pond and the line of trees. The air was cool; it smelled of wet earth and leaves. She focused on the rhythm of her steps bouncing against the gravel. Most days, it helped clear her mind. Today, the familiar spiral tightened inside her chest instead.

  She reached down to her fanny pack, slowing her pace, careful not to jostle it open. The zipper caught for a second before giving way she pulled out her headphones and slipped them in her ears. She waited for the soft chime that meant they’d connected to her phone.

  Alarica didn’t want music with words. She never did. Words carried weight, intention, meaning—and meaning was the last thing she could handle right now. She believed in vibrations, in how sound settled into the body, how they shaped mood and thoughts. So she tapped into a random focus playlist on Apple Music, something that moved in waves instead of sentences. She dropped her phone back into the fanny pack, zipped it shut, and picked up her pace.

  The music filled her ears; she let it push her forward. She ran harder, synching her footsteps with the beat, trying to outrun her emotions. Trying to outrun the thought that she was living on the wrong side of a decision she couldn’t undo. Now she found herself explaining her past to people who had never even heard of her.

  The base thudded deeper. She leaned into it, legs burning, lungs stretching until the negative thoughts blurred into noise. If she ran fast enough, maybe they wouldn’t be able to keep up.

  Finally, she slowed to a stop, bending forward with her hands resting on her knees. She brushed the loose strands away from her sweat-damp face. The world tilted slightly as her pulse roared in her ears, louder than the music now.

  When she looked up, a woman passed in front of her, pushing a stroller. Her hand resting gently on the handle as she walked. Beneath the hood, a bundle of blankets shifted, a baby barely visible within.

  Alarica took off running again. This time, she didn’t stop until she reached the parking lot. Her lungs were on fire. She fumbled with her keys and unlocked the door. It slammed behind her, cutting out the noise. The world dulled.

  She stared ahead, her mind blank, until the ringing of her phone pulled her out of it. Unknown number. She pressed ignore and scrolled to his name in her call log.