A local woman missing- Mary Kubica

Delilah wakes up. Her fever is back. She looks glassy-eyed. Her
voice is rasping and she holds a hand to her throat like it hurts. I take
her temperature. Again it’s one hundred and three. I give her another
dose of medicine. I help her down the stairs to the sofa and get her
something to drink. She has no appetite. She watches cartoons
while Leo gets ready to go to Charlotte’s house.
Delilah waits in the car when I drop Leo off. I tell Charlotte that
Delilah won’t be coming after school because she’s sick. “It’s just
Leo,” I say. Leo steps up to the door. He looks inside. He doesn’t cry.
Back at home, Delilah returns to the sofa. She’s all tuckered out
from the quick drive to the sitter’s house. This fever has gotten the
better of her. I sit beside her for a while, with her head on my lap. In
time, I get up to look for my phone, to let Josh know that Delilah is
sick. I take a lap around the house but don’t find it. I must have left it
in the car when I took Leo, along with my purse. I peek on Delilah
before going to the garage to get the phone. She’s sound asleep.
The garage is detached. It a good fifty feet from our house to the
garage door. The day is wet. I step out the back door and into the
weather. I pull the door closed. I don’t like the way I feel as I turn my
back to it. But Delilah won’t be alone long. I’ll be back in thirty
seconds if I’m quick. I run through the rain. The yard is covered in
puddles. I step in them and they splash, soaking my lower half. I’ll
need to change my pants when I get back in. The lower-lying parts of
the yard have begun to flood.
I go in through the side door, not the roll-up door. I step inside and
go to the car. I yank open the passenger’s side door and there it is:
my purse. Except that I’m in a hurry. When I go to pick it up, I grab
from the bottom. The contents of the purse spill onto the floor mat.
“Shit,” I say as I lean in to collect them. A tube of lipstick has rolled
beneath the seat. I lower myself down, stretch my arm beneath the
seat to get it.
“Good morning, Meredith,” I hear.
The sound of her voice throws me into an even greater state of
imbalance. I jolt upright. I wheel around to face her, standing behind
me. “Bea,” I say, putting my hand to my heart. “You startled me.” I’m
on edge all the time.