Missing In Action by Canterbary Kate

Author:Canterbary, Kate
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Vesper Press
Published: 2020-03-29T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

The next morning, I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the bedroom doorframe as I surveyed the remains of my living room. The living room I'd furnished in slow, deliberate additions over the past six years. It hadn't mattered to me whether the space sat mostly empty or asymmetrically assembled because just like me, it was a work in progress. I hadn't wanted to buy a sofa or art or side tables I didn't love simply because I was in need. No, I'd been content sitting on the floor, staring at blank walls, and using boxes or overturned milk crates as tables. I'd forced myself to wait for the right things rather than settle for the right-now things.

Behind me, I heard Wes yawning, stretching, and mumbling about searching for a pair of pajama bottoms. I heard a loud footfall, a muttered dammit, and then the moment of uncoordinated hopping one did while trying to pull on pants when exceedingly loose limbed. Then I sensed him over my shoulder and leaned back against his chest. He kissed the top of my head, saying, "Looks like we have a lot of shopping to do today. Let's hit the showers, babe."

I grimaced at the shattered lamp. I still remembered the abundance of joy I'd felt bringing it home and sitting it atop the side table like a crown jewel. "That's not necessary."

"Yeah, it is," he said, sweeping his hand at the crime scene before us. "I am getting you a new lamp and, from the looks of it, some houseplants too." He frowned at the shards of pottery and the spray of soil and pebbles across the floor. "Shit, sorry about that."

I shook my head. "It's fine."

"It's not but we'll make it fine," he added, banding his arm over my chest. "After we clean up this mess and find some replacements."

"We don't have to do that. Seriously. I like driving all over New England to find a candlestick holder and puttering around antique and vintage shops and then popping into mainstream stores too. It's my process and I'm very particular and you don't have to—"

"Oh, yeah. We're fuckin' doing this," Wes interrupted. "Boy, I am gonna antique your ass off."

"What?"

"Maybe I want to drive all over New England with you," he said. "I already know about your particularities and processes. I want to see the puttering." He shrugged and nuzzled his scruffy beard into my neck. "And I want to be with you. I want to see your favorite places and hear about the things you love. And I have a million questions about your friends. Max needs to leave that dirtbag boyfriend, by the way. I might need to make that guy's body disappear when I get a minute later this week."

"No murders," I warned.

"But I thought you liked murders."

"I like documentaries about the psychology of serial killers. The events that led them to kill and kill in the ways which they did. I like the investigations and the stories of the people doing the police work.

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