Anything, Anything
CHAPTER TWO, PART ONE
The morning sun streaked our bedroom with bright yellow and white light, little specs of dust dancing in the beams.
“I’m off to work,” Johnny whispered, already showered and dressed in his uniform, ready for the day. “Have a good day, Rox.” With that, pecked me on the forehead and walked out of the room.
From the bed, I could hear him pour his coffee into his thermos and walk out the door, closing it quietly behind him. I listened as he turned the lock in the door, ensuring my safe sleep, even though nobody had ever so much as crossed onto our property line without authority to do so.
Once I heard Johnny start his car and was sure he was gone, I reached for my phone on the bedside table, sitting up. I opened the tab for the news in our county, but found nothing. I wondered if anyone had even found the man yet, the bat covered in dried blood next to his head. I thought about searching for it in my phone, but decided against it. I didn’t want any kind of search history that could link me back to him.
Back in Chicago, I had been a high school English teacher, but when we moved to Mountain Grove, I stopped working. The original plan was for Johnny and me to get pregnant and then I would stay home to take care of the kids, but when I didn’t get pregnant right away, we decided that we would wait a bit. This way, I could get acquainted with the town, Johnny could focus on work, and we could try again later. That was more than five years ago.
In those years, I had decided to follow through with my other passion, writing. I had written seven novels, four of which were published by a small imprint here on the west coast. The second of the four hit it big and became a bestseller, and as the first in a series, the other two followed suit. Steep Point was the first in a series of murder mysteries about a small-town sheriff, the fourth of which I was supposed to be working on. Johnny was my inspiration for the main character, the handsome and smart protagonist, always one step ahead of the killer.
My phone buzzed in my hand, still on silent from the night before. A text message from Johnny appeared on the screen.
Don’t forget our appointment tonight. 5pm. Xo.
Of course I had forgotten our appointment. We were scheduled to see Dr. Friedman, a fertility doctor a few towns over. I didn’t feel old enough to need a fertility doctor, but as Johnny had pointed out, we had been trying to have a baby since I was twenty-three and, “getting checked out couldn’t hurt.” To be honest, we probably should have done it sooner.
Of course! See you then, babe.
I checked the clock on my phone. It was only just past nine now, which gave me plenty of time to drive to the ocean for the day before needing to meet Johnny at five. I clambered out of bed, tripping over myself as I made my way toward the bathroom. I climbed into the standing glass shower and let the water pour over me, soaking my waist-length hair. I didn’t bother to blow-dry my hair before leaving the house, instead tousling it in front of the double vanity and then letting the mountain air create perfect beach waves.

















