Chapter 2
I woke up the next morning to an empty bed. That in itself wasn’t unusual. More often than not, Vic was up and out the door before I woke up. But last night, Vic hadn’t made it home at all. Instead, I’d received a MORALLY BANKRUPT text just after eleven, the meaning of which had been left to my imagination.
Wandering downstairs, I found Flora at the kitchen table staring blindly out the glass of the back door. She sat in the odd, broken way she had, and utterly still. If her eyes hadn’t been open, I’d have assumed she was sleeping.
“You’re up early.” She was never up before eight. “Did you not sleep well?”
“There was a man in the garden again.”
“Was there?” I squinted out the window above the sink, looking past the patio to the far end of the bit of yard we bothered to mow a
