Page 3 of Fault Lines
The silence after was heavier than before. I drained my glass and poured another. Tried reading, but the words slipped away. The characters’ drama felt paper-thin compared to my own.
Nine o’clock struck, sharp as a slap. I dialed Cam’s work line, but nobody answered. Panic started to creep in, cold and slow. I called Janet, the secretary who’d been his right hand for years. Surely, Janet would know.
But an old woman’s voice answered, softer than I remembered. Retired. Five months ago. She hadn’t even said goodbye.
My stomach dropped. Lacey. The new name. I copied down the number with a shaking hand, feeling almost embarrassed. How had Cam not told me this?
When I called, the background was loud, like a party—or a restaurant, utensils against plates. A young woman answered, bright and efficient:
“Hello?”
“Hi, Olivia here. Cam’s wife. Is this Lacey?” My voice sounded too small.
“Yes, I’m Lacey. You said you’re Cam’s wife?”
“Yes. He was supposed to be home at six. I can’t get him on the phone. Have you heard from him?”
A pause. “No, I’m sorry. He left the office at the usual time. Haven’t seen him since.”
“Could you call me if you hear anything?” I hated how worried I sounded, but it bubbled up anyway.
“Sure thing. I’m sure he’s just out for a drink or something.”
“Thanks.”
I hung up, poured another glass, and just sat. What was there to do? I could drive around, but that seemed more desperate than waiting right here. Besides, what if he came home and I wasn’t here? So I curled up on the couch, wrapped myself in a blanket, and let the wine soften the edges of my anxiety.
I must have nodded off, because the next thing I felt was a nudge against my arm. I groaned awake, blinking into the darkness before I shot up like a lightning bolt.
“Whoa there, Nelly. Slow down before you hurt yourself.” Cam’s voice was hoarse with exhaustion, but there was laughter in it too.
He stood by the couch, backlit by the hall light, tie loosened, suit all creased. Not relief on his face, just weariness.
“What time is it?” I managed, the words sticking to my tongue.
“Midnight. You must have crashed.” He shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it over a chair.
“I was waiting for you. I called, I texted…” I trailed off, too tired to sound upset.
“Sorry, baby. My phone was off most of the night. Meeting ran late. We wrapped up the merger, finally.”
I wanted to feel happy for him. It was supposed to be good news. But all I could see was the untouched dinner, cold on the table. And all I could feel was my heart, beating too fast.
“I didn’t know. I made you dinner.”
He noticed then—the plates, the candles, the roses that looked silly now in the cold light. “I’m so sorry. It just… got away from me. Lacey’s a machine, honestly. She got me through a mountain of paperwork tonight. Janet was great, but she was, you know…” He winced. “She moved a little slower in the end. Lacey’s really on top of things.”
My mouth went dry. “So Janet retired?”
He blinked, caught off guard. “Oh. Yeah. I thought I told you that.”
“No. I called her tonight when I couldn’t find you. She said she hadn’t heard from you since you left the office.”
He started clearing plates with me, moving almost automatically, the words falling into the silence like crumbs.
“She lied. Lacey. Why would she tell me she hadn’t seen you?”
He froze, then gave a half-shrug, like it didn’t really matter. “You called Lacey?”
