Page 2 of Hell Hath No Fury

Unlike the dank cellars in horror films, this one was finished. A large-screen TV filled most of one wall. A row of leather recliners faced it, and Matthias recognized the latest PlayStation console in the glass-front cabinet beneath the television. Another wall held a well-stocked wet bar. Quite the man cave.

He continued through a doorway and into an empty subterranean garage. The rest of the search convinced him that Eric was not in the house.

“Car’s gone,” Matthias told Emma when he returned to the main floor.

She scowled in thought, then wheeled and backtracked, disappearing into a darkened room off the foyer. He followed when the light flicked on. She slid into a chair in front of a desktop computer and jiggled the mouse. The monitor remained black. “Huh.” She reached for the tower and pressed a button. It whirred softly as a power light came on. “He usually doesn’t power it completely off unless he’s going to be out for more than an hour.”

As the computer booted, Matthias looked around. More paintings, similar to the ones in the bedroom, hung on deep blue-gray walls. He crossed to a set of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and scanned the titles. Vonnegut, Orwell, Asimov, and other classic sci-fi authors filled one shelf. Steinbeck and Fitzgerald shared the next with Dickens and Twain. A third shelf contained a variety of graphic novels. “Your friend has quite the wide-ranging taste in fiction.”

“That’s only part of his collection. Wait until you see the living room.”

Matthias turned to find Emma keying in a passcode to the computer’s lock screen. “You know his password?”

“He knows mine, too.”

“I don’t know yours,” Matthias pointed out, trying to keep the envy from his voice.

She shot him a wry grin. “When I’ve known you as long as I’ve known Eric, I’ll share it with you.”

Considering Emma and Eric had been friends since grade school, Matthias calculated it would take him over two decades to reach that criterion. “I’ll be closing in on seventy by then.”

The grin gone, she scowled at a calendar she pulled up on the monitor. “There’s nothing on his agenda for today.” She picked up her phone, searched for and found a number, and placed a call. After a few seconds, she ended it. “I tried his office but got a recording. Naturally. It’s Saturday. They’re closed.” She tapped the phone screen again. “The last text he sent me was last night. I’d told him we were leaving early this morning. He sent me a thumbs-up emoji. That was almost eleven o’clock. Where the hell is he? Where the hell is my sister?”

Matthias silently hoped Nell had returned to rehab.

“I’m going to call Eric again.” Emma fingered the screen and put the phone to her ear.

Strains of “Do You Hear the People Sing?” fromLes Misérablesdrifted from somewhere in the house.

Her eyes widened. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “That’s Eric’s phone.” She bolted from the office, Matthias right behind.

In the foyer, they stopped. He listened and knew she was, too. “Upstairs,” he said and charged up the staircase for the second time, following the tune as it grew louder. It wasn’t coming from either of the first two rooms. He stepped into the master and scanned the surfaces. Nothing.

Emma slipped around him to stop in the middle of the room and turn a slow circle. Without a word, she homed in on one of the bedside tables, yanked open the drawer, and came up with a cell phone just as the music ended. She choked. “What’s going on? Eric never goes anywhere without this.”

Except, he had. Matthias pivoted and exited the room. “I want to look at his computer,” he called over his shoulder; he could hear Emma trailing him. Back in the office, Matthias took the chair she’d been sitting in and studied the open tabs of Eric’s Google browser. One caught his attention. He clicked on it. A page for Lakeview Funeral Home in Cleveland, Ohio, filled the screen. The page featured an obituary for Ezekiel Allen Dyson.

“Zeke,” Emma said from over Matthias’s shoulder. Nell’s boyfriend.

They’d already read it. Eric had sent Emma the link. Instead of being Nell’s guardian angel, Zeke had apparently fallen off the recovery wagon and taken her with him. He’d lost his battle with drugs five days ago here in Washington County, but he was to be buried near his family home in Cleveland. Today. “Could Eric have taken Nell to the funeral?”

Emma considered the option, then shook her head. “Not without his phone, and he knew I was coming. He’d have left me a message or a note. Something.” She scowled at Eric’s phone in her hand, then started searching through it.

The cop in Matthias wanted to snatch it from her, but he resisted. “What was the last text or voicemail he received?”

“That’s what I’m checking.” The creases between her Caribbean blue-green eyes deepened. “There are a couple of minor business texts from his personal assistant. He replied to one with instructions on how to respond to the client. The other, he said he’ll handle when he gets into the office on Monday. Other than those, mine are the last messages received, and the last one sent is the emoji when I told him we’d be here early.” She kept thumbing through the device. “Nothing important in his voicemail. Or his email.”

Matthias held out a palm. “Let me see.” Her idea of “important” might be different than his.

“Give me a minute.” Emma scrolled a moment longer and stopped. “He has Nell’s number here.” She clicked on it and listened.

Matthias half expected to hear ringtones from upstairs again.

Emma exhaled. “Nell, it’s Emma. Please call me. I promise, no judgment. I need to know you’re okay.” She thumbed the screen and held it out to Matthias. “No one wants to talk to me.”

“I do,” he said with what he hoped was a comforting smile.

As he pulled up Eric’s texts, Emma left the room. “I’m going to make us some breakfast,” she said.