A local woman missing- Mary Kubica

KATE
NOW
Bea and I are in the kitchen when the doorbell rings. I’ve just gotten
home from work and am telling Bea about my day while she makes
chicken enchiladas for us for dinner. Bea chops a pepper while the
chicken browns in a skillet on the stove. My mouth waters. My day,
as always, was incredibly busy so that I didn’t have time to sit down
for lunch; I ate on the go instead, a nibble here, a nibble there,
between patients.
Today was difficult. I had to put down a dog I’ve been treating for a
long time. No matter how many times I do it, it never gets easy or
routine. I euthanize patients almost every day. Even harder than that
are the days I get vilified by clients. The animals I adore; their
humans are another story.
“Are you expecting someone?” I ask Bea at the sound of the
doorbell.
“I don’t think so,” she says, turning the heat off under the chicken. I
carry my wine with me, following her to the front door.
It’s early evening, just after five o’clock. Outside the day is still
bright. Bea pulls the door open and there stand Josh and Leo on the
porch, a couple of uniformed police officers on the porch step below
them. Concern lines their faces. There are tears in Josh’s and Leo’s
eyes. The likeness to that night eleven years ago renders me
momentarily speechless as I picture Josh with little Leo by his side,
arms wrapped around Josh’s leg, the storm raging in the
background. The night their nightmare began.
Eleven years later, it’s still ongoing.
“What is it?” Bea asks. “What’s wrong?”
I set my wine on the coffee table. Josh says, “She’s gone. She’s
run away,” and it’s all so similar to the night Meredith and Delilah first
disappeared that I’m caught off balance, left openmouthed. Josh
doesn’t look like himself. He hasn’t in quite some time. Our