The city sky was still gray when Hunter Jackson returned to his gloomy apartment. His watch showed nine in the morning, but the silence that greeted him made it feel as if midnight hadn’t passed. The apartment door was unlocked. No sound from inside. No scent of coffee or the familiar fragrance of his wife that used to calm him after a long night shift, though lately everything between them had felt cold.
“Shopia?” he called softly, but no reply came.
Jackson stepped cautiously into the living room. The leaking bucket in the corner had overflowed, water spreading across the floor. But that wasn’t what made him uneasy. The sofa was empty. No women’s shoes near the door. No trace that his wife had been home recently.
Nervously, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He tappe
