RAISE YOUR HAND

Chapter 7

Back and forth. Back and forth. David Fallon paced his kitchen. The weight of his steps were enough to crush bone.  His thumbs slipped over his index fingers and pressed down causing a loud pop of his knuckles. He repeated the action for each digit.

She was late. Where was she? Five o'clock and no dinner. Didn't he tell her he wanted lasagna? That new job was making her late. His teeth ground together.

Why did he ever listen to his mother? He shouldn't have complained about the money problems he was having. It was just that he thought she'd lend him some. Instead, she suggested Trinity start pulling her weight and get a job. It was a good idea in theory. But in reality? Not. He was fucking hungry, and she wasn't home yet.

To make matters worse, she wasn't answering her goddamn phone. Maybe she was driving. Yeah. That had to be it. He scratched his head pulling it to the side until his neck cracked. She was a pretty careful driver. Paid attention to detail. David nodded with a smile. Of course she paid attention to detail. He trained her. He had to. She never went to college. How else would she have learned if he hadn't taught her?

But this was inexcusable. If this job was making her late, she'd just have to find a different one. As soon as she got home, he'd tell her. Well, first she'd take her punishment and then he'd tell her.

The digital clock flashed quarter after five. Fifteen minutes passed. He went to the living room and stared out the window. A random car zoomed by, but it wasn't her. Then another and another. A bead of sweat gathered on his upper lip. He dragged it away with a swipe of his sleeve and a loud sniff of his nose. A fourth car. Not her. Not her, not her, not...her! Pulling at his hair, he let loose a frustrated shout. A small nicknack of a fairy picking flowers sailed across the room smashing into tiny pieces against the wall.

David's chest heaved up and down as he stared at the now broken ceramic he gave to Trinity for her birthday the first year they met. A small cut on his hand welled with fresh blood, and trickled down his hand unnoticed. His mumbling lips twitched as fast as his mind raced. The rhythmic ticking of a wall clock counted his disjointed thoughts until a moment of clarity provided a realization to settle inside his brain. His eyes grew wide.

"She...left me," he whispered in an astonished hush, eyes wild. "She fucking left me."

There was no other explanation. Had to be. She would have been home on time if not. Dinner would have been on the table. But it wasn't. Was there ever even a job? He'd ask Becky. Becky would know. Becky would tell him. 

In the meantime, he would find her. He was a cop after all. This sort of thing was his job. He did it everyday. Sure he was only a beat cop, but he had friends who would help him.

"Yeah," David nodded satisfied. A maniacal smile spread over his face.

He would find her. And when he did...she better pray.