Chapter 4: The Empty Apartment
The SUV pulled up alongside the curb on Maple Street, stopping fifty feet away from the faded brick apartment building where Leo lived. The afternoon sun cast long, lazy shadows across the cracked pavement. A stray cat darted beneath a rusted dumpster, and the distant sound of a siren wailed softly in the urban distance.
Leo reached for the door handle, pushing it open and letting in a rush of warm, city-scented air. He hopped down onto the pavement, then hesitated, turning back to look at the man in the tailored white shirt.
Jax rolled down the window, resting his arm against the frame. The heavy gold watch caught the afternoon light. "Thanks again, Leo. For what it's worth."
"You're welcome," Leo said. He shifted his weight, his wet hair still clinging to his forehead. "Are you going to be okay?"
"I always am," Jax replied, though his voice lacked conviction. He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a sleek, embossed black business card with a single raised silver logo. He slid it across the leather seat and offered it to the boy. "If you ever need anything. Literally anything. You call that number. My private line."
Leo looked down at the card, then took it with two fingers, slipping it carefully into the pocket of his dark shorts. "Okay."
"Go on inside," Jax said, nodding toward the front entrance of the building.
Leo turned and walked toward the heavy glass door, pulling it open and stepping into the dim, familiar hallway. The lobby smelled of old floor wax and boiled cabbage. He climbed the two flights of stairs to his family's apartment, his sneakers making wet squishing sounds on the linoleum steps.
When he reached apartment 3B, he didn't even have to use his key; the door was unlocked, pushed open an inch. A cold knot formed in the pit of his stomach. His mother never left the door unlocked.
"Mom?" Leo called out, stepping into the small living room.
May you like
The room was completely empty, save for a few overturned chairs and a shattered ceramic vase lying near the sofa. Drawers from the wooden sideboard had been pulled out and dumped upside down, their contents scattered across the faded rug. The television was still on, playing a muted daytime talk show to an empty room.
Leo stood frozen in the center of the living room, his big hazel eyes wide with sudden, overwhelming dread. The silence of the apartment was heavy, suffocating, and terrifyingly absolute. His mother was gone.
