Bound to my Enemy novel Chapter 100

Chapter 100: Chapter 100.

I get home later than I plan to.

Traffic drags and the calls ran long. Nothing unusual. By the time I pull into the driveway, the house is already lit the way it always is in the evening. Warm lights in the front hall. Margaret’s doing, most likely, it settles something in me as I step out of the car.

I walk inside and shrug off my jacket, hanging it where it belongs.

"Elaine," I call out, not loud. Just enough to announce myself.

No answer, which is kind of normal for her.

I don’t think anything of it at first. She’s been distant since yesterday and Keeping to herself. Either in her room or somewhere with Margaret or with her girls. I head toward the kitchen, expecting to see her at the counter or sitting at the small table, maybe pretending not to notice me.

But the kitchen is empty.

Margaret isn’t here either, which is unusual at this hour. Dinner hasn’t been started, no pots on the stove, no smell of food. I pause, glance at the clock on the wall. It’s well past seven .

"She’s probably upstairs," I mutter.

I pour myself a glass of water and drink it slowly, letting the day slide off me. I scroll through my phone, check messages and emails. Nothing from her. That isn’t strange either, doesn’t text much, unless she has a reason to absolutely do that.

I move toward the stairs, taking them at a normal pace.

Our bedroom door is ope.

The first thing I notice is the quiet. The room usually has some sign of life.

Our bed is made, the pillows are stacked. The blanket smoothed.

I step inside.

"Elaine?" I say again, a little louder.

Still nothing.

I walk farther in, glance toward the bathroom, the door is open, with the lights off.

My chest tightens, just a fraction

I open the closet. Her clothes are still there, but not all of them. I know what she owns. I’ve seen her wear the same things enough times to recognize patterns. There’s space where a few dresses should be. A pair of boots missing from the bottom shelf.

I tell myself not to jump to conclusions.

"She went out," I think. "That’s all."

But she never goes out without telling someone. Margaret, at least. Aaron, usually.

I leave her room and check the guest room. But it’s empty. The sitting room down the hall where she sometimes curls up with a blanket. Empty too.

I stop at the railing and look down into the living room. No sign of her still, the house suddenly feels bigger than it should.

I head downstairs and scan the space more carefully this time. Her bag isn’t by the couch. Her shoes aren’t by the door.

I walk to the entryway and open the coat closet. Nothing.

I take my phone out and dial Aaron.

He answers quickly. "Boss."

"Where’s Elaine," I ask.

There’s a small pause.

"She’s not with me boss,"he says.

I frown. "She didn’t leave with you."

"No."

"Did she say she was going anywhere."

"No, sir."

I end the call without another word.

I stand there for a moment, phone in my hand, staring at the floor. My thoughts start to move faster now, lining up possibilities. She could be with her brothers or she could be with those girls she’s been hanging around. She could just be out.

But she took clothes.

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