She sat face lowered, one hand woven through her dark curls, the other swirling a spoon through black coffee—a chubby man sat opposite her in the booth.

“Anita, please. I know he meant a lot to you, but this isn’t a conspiracy. It was a bad part of town, And as sad as it is, people go missing all the time.”

Anita shifted her gaze to the window, looking out across the dark, damp parking lot. “He didn’t just mean a lot to me, Harold.”

“Sorry, I know it’s hard,” he said, reaching for a ceramic pitcher. “Creamer?”

Face lowered, she glanced up—pupils pressed against her half-lids.

The man cleared his throat, “I didn’t mean… You know what I meant. It’s hard, but these things happen.”

“He was my fucking fiance, Harold.”

“You think I don’t know that? He was a friend, like a brother.”

“Then why aren’t you taking me seriously?” Anita slammed the soft of her fist against the table, making the cups rattle against their coasters.

Several eyes turned to them in the deadly quiet diner.

“Sorry about that,” Harold smiled and nodded, but the gazes took a moment before drifting back to whatever they were doing. “I know this is hard, but let's keep it down, okay?”

“My fiance is missing, Harold. Do I need to remind you again? This isn’t just some random thing. We had code words. I mean, he was a detective, for fucks sake. Do you even listen to yourself?”

Sipping his coffee, Harold sighed as he returned it to the table: “I didn’t want to have to say this, Anita, but Abe was spotted with another woman.”

“Shut up,” Anita shook her head, wiping a tear from her freckled cheeks. “It was work. He had tells.”

“Anita, please,” Harold moved to place his hands over hers, but she pulled away.

“Just listen to me, okay?”

“It’s been corroborated by two investigators and a sergeant. They all say the same thing. He was seen leaving La Cucina Lazio with a woman. Long white hair, thin build, five-five, you get the picture.”

“And how exactly does this disprove he was undercover?”

“Where do I sign up for the undercover jobs dating beautiful women?” Harold chuckled.

Anita glared back.

“Sorry,” he straightened. “It’s just not how this kind of thing works. Our job is much less glamorous than the TV would have you believe.”

“Abe wasn’t fucking around, Harold. I know it,” Anita ran her fingers through her hair. “That’s not who he is.”

“We don’t always know who people are,” Harold reached for her shoulder.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“I do,” she brushed him away. “Wendy might have been riding every man in town, but Abe isn’t like that.”

Harold reddened and glanced down at his hands.

“Sorry,” Anita slumped. “It’s just… I shouldn’t have bought her up.”

“It’s fine. It was a long time ago.” Harold sighed and sipped from his coffee.

“I just want you to believe me. I’m not making this up…” her words grew soft, barely audible. “Abe wouldn’t do this. There’s some cover-up, I know it. I’m not crazy.”

“Anita, please, it hurts me to see you like this.”

“You, it hurts you?” Anita’s brown eyes widened. “My fiance is missing. The love of my life is gone. You think I care how I look?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Anita. Please, I’m not your enemy.”

“You can help me though. I know you can get access to whatever files they have on Abe. Please, Harold, I know they have something,” she said, placing her hands atop his and fluttering her lashes.

“Anita, do you know what you’re asking?” he hushed. “Besides, everything is audited. I can’t just give myself access to whatever I want. We’re not talking about just getting fired. That kind of thing lands you in jail.”

“I understand,” she glanced down, her hands trembling atop one another.

“I might not be able to do that, but if there’s anything else, just name it.”

“No, it’s fine,” she glanced across the dark parking lot. “It’s already too late, just take me home.”

Silently pulling into the driveway of her home, Anita flashed a sober smile and let herself out.

“Wait, let me-”

“It’s fine,” she said, closing the car door.

Hastily unbuckling, Harold rolled his large frame out of the car and hurried to catch up, reaching her as she slid her key into the lock.

“Please, Anita. You know I want to help however I can. Abe was a friend; we have been close ever since the academy. It really does pain me as much as it does you.”

“Does it?” Anita whispered under her breath.

Harold cleared his throat as he stepped into her space beneath the building’s eave and pressed beside the door.

“Anita,” he said softly, placing hands on her shoulders. “We’re going to get through this together.”

Anita turned her face and shifted out of his grip.

Harold tightened, inching closer, and leaned in, lips first.

Pushing an arm against his chest, she retreated, turning so that his kiss met curly, dark locks.

She pushed, and he loosened his grip.

“Really, Harold?” Anita’s lip quivered as she glared at him. “He’s been gone weeks, and you’re already trying to fuck me?”

“Anita, please, it’s not like that. I’m sorry, it’s just that this is very difficult for me,” Harold shook his head. “I shouldn’t have done that, but I feel vulnerable...”

Twisting the nob at her back, Anita slid through the narrow opening she made for herself and pulled across the door's chain lock before replying.

“Really, you’re the vulnerable one? Go fuck your hand, Harold.”

“I just wanted to… you, to comfort you,” he tilted with a stiff smile. “Sometimes letting off a little steam helps with difficult situations,” he added, almost pressing himself against the barely open door.

“You’re disgusting, Harold. I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on Earth. Meeting up today was a mistake. Now fuck off!” she slammed the door.

“Please, Anita,” Harold pleaded, slamming the soft of his fist against the door. “I don’t want today to end like this. I care about you and Abe. I only wanted to help. Please, believe me. I was trying to comfort you.”

She silently pressed against the door and listened to his rustling movements for several moments until she heard his car rev to life and pull away from the drive.

Sighing, she leaned against the door, allowing herself to slide to the floor. She brought her knees up and crossed her arms, dropping her face into them.

A whimper escaped her lips, followed by tears lining her cheeks, taking the paint from her eyes with them.

“How can you be gone? We had our entire lives planned ahead of us,” she sobbed, a hand resting against her belly. “How am I supposed to do this alone?”