The past twenty-four hours still had a surreal feel. Yesterday morning I’d awakened with anticipation. The wedding and reception were just ahead of us and my main concern had been about feeding the guys and getting us all out the door on time. For one moment I relived that, almost capturing the feeling that I would walk into the kitchen and begin an ordinary Sunday. A sound from the living room cancelled that. Ron was huddled into the corner of the sofa, wearing the same jeans and rugby shirt he’d put on last night. “Did you even go to bed?” I asked, slipping my arm around his shoulders as I passed. He shrugged. “Tried. No point to it.” In the far corner Freckles stirred in her crate, giving an impatient whimper. I let her out and followed her to the back door, where she bolted to her favorite corner of the yard. I pressed the button on the coffee maker and when I came back through saw Ron in the same spot. His face was haggard, eyes bloodshot with huge bags underneath. “I take it there’s been no call from the police?”
