Page 48 of Captivating Anika
“Hey, honey, I’m home,” she jokes, kicking off her shoes and tossing her bag on the bench.
Despite the smile on her face, I can see the stress right behind it.
“Long day?” I inquire.
“You can say that,” she answers, walking up to me and leaning down for a brief kiss. “How are you feeling?”
I don’t bother pointing out she hasn’t really answered my question, I’ll get back to it. From her reaction, I have a feeling it wasn’t a run-of-the-mill day.
“I’m okay,” I tell her. “Had a nap.”
I actually had several. I’m not used to sitting still and prefer to stay busy, but I wasn’t feeling up to more than lounging on the couch today.
Anika turns to the pizza box and peeks inside, rewarding me with a smile.
“You ordered us pizza,” she observes.
“Half pepperoni, half roasted vegetables. Yes, I did.”
“Thank you.” She throws me a smile. “Not sure I would’ve been up to cooking tonight.”
“I’d have cooked, but figured that might tick you off, so I ordered instead. That took no effort.”
“You’re right, I would’ve been upset with you,” she admits as she sits down beside me.
Starving, I take one of the plates I set out and load it with a few roasted vegetable slices before handing it to her. Then I grab myself some from the other half of the pizza and sit back. Anika is already eating when I sink my teeth into the pizza.
“So, tell me about this long day,” I ask when she finishes her first slice.
She does, giving me the blow-by-blow. Between settling the ruffled feathers of two of her employees, and another not showing up when she was supposed to, it sounds like she had a rough afternoon.
I could get used to this. Sharing a meal with her, talking about our days. It’s not something I’m accustomed to. When my father was still alive, the subject of my work never came up at the dinner table. It was hog business alone. When only Mom and I were left, we’d occasionally ask each other, but the response from either one of us would always be the same. Fine.
“So, Kim never showed up?” I ask, wondering what would’ve been the reason and not liking the possible scenarios that come to mind.
“No. Checked the apartment, called her phone, sent her a message. Nothing. Which reminds me,” she says, getting up and walking to the front door. “I should see if she got back to me.”
She digs through her purse and pulls out her phone, checking the display.
“Still nothing,” she reports.
I haven’t talked to anyone today, but the last I heard no body was found at the scene of the fire, which means the woman’s husband is out there somewhere. I’d say it’s cause for concern.
“Sweetheart, I think you should call Evans,” I suggest.
She gives me a long look and then nods, immediately pulling up his number.
Twenty minutes later, we’re in my truck on our way to the Chop Shop to meet the detective. Anika was going to go meet him alone, but I wasn’t about to let her. Even though a three-year-old with a temper tantrum could probably knock me over, I’m hoping my size will be enough of a deterrent.
Evans is already there, waiting at the base of the stairs to the apartment.
“Spoke to Mel,” he informs us. “She hasn’t heard from Kim and was able to find out from her friend that she never showed up for her therapy session this morning.”
Anika’s hand slips her hand in mine as she mutters, “Shit.”
“Yeah. I’m going to want to know exactly what she said in that phone call,” Evans tells her.
“Monique took the call.”