Chapter 7: Silence in the Dark

Adrian’s POV

Amber has been found. The moment she arrived home, I called the police to cancel the search. 

“Yes,” I said, forcing calm back into my voice. “You can call off the search. My daughter’s been found.”

“Found?” the officer asked, surprised.

“Yes. She’s safe now,” I said quickly, glancing toward the living room where Amber sat on the couch, her small figure illuminated by the soft glow of the television.

When I hung up, I finally allowed myself a long, steady breath.

Amber had snuck out earlier that evening to find Marissa. She had walked nearly two miles alone, carrying her little backpack and a note that said, I want to see Aunt Marissa.

Marissa had called me not long after she found her standing outside her apartment building, shivering in the wind.

“I’ll bring her home,” she had said.

Now, as she stepped into my living room beside Amber, I could see a faint hint of satisfaction in her smile.

I exhaled deeply, closing my eyes for a moment. “Sorry you had to go out of your way,” I murmured.

Marissa tilted her head, her lips curving into a sweet but mocking smile. “Oh, it’s fine. She’s such a lonely little thing… just like her mother.”

The tone made my jaw tighten, but I didn’t correct her.

Amber looked up at me with wide eyes. “Dad, can we watch a movie together? You, me, and Aunt Marissa?”

“Of course,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Go pick one.”

Marissa’s laughter was soft, almost pleased, as Amber ran off to grab the remote.

As the movie began, the house felt too quiet. The kind of quiet that should have been peaceful but wasn’t.

I knew Rachel was still out there searching for Amber, probably panicking as usual. I didn’t bother calling her. What would be the point? Every time something went wrong, she turned it into a scene, tears, apologies, chaos. She never learned to handle things with reason, always emotion first. Maybe a few hours alone in the dark would finally teach her to stop overreacting to everything

I settled into the couch beside Amber. Marissa leaned comfortably against my arm, pretending this was the life we were supposed to have all along. I tried to let myself enjoy it, the warmth of Amber leaning against me, the faint perfume of Marissa beside me, the simple, domestic peace I had once thought I wanted.

For years, I had imagined this exact moment: the woman I loved and my daughter in the same room, laughing, quiet, whole. Yet even now, even with everything in place, it felt like something was missing. The air was thick, and my chest heavy. I smiled when Amber looked up at me, but it felt forced, as if the moment belonged to someone else.

Every few minutes, I checked the time. The light outside dimmed until only the faint street glow filtered through the window.

By the time the clock struck nine, I felt parched. My throat burned, and I rose from the couch. “I’m getting some water.”

Marissa nodded, eyes on the screen.

I stepped into the kitchen, poured myself a glass, and drank it down quickly. For a few minutes, the sound of the refrigerator hum was the only thing grounding me.

When I returned, Amber was snuggled under a blanket, smiling at the movie. My phone sat on the coffee table, the screen dark.

“Dad, your phone kept lighting up,” Amber said casually. “It was annoying, so I turned it off.”

I blinked. “You turned it off?”

She nodded. “It was buzzing during the movie.”

I let out a breath and shrugged. “That’s fine.”

We watched the movie together, but I couldn’t focus. Marissa talked occasionally, making comments, but I barely heard her. I only noticed the strange sense of unease that was slowly creeping in.

When she leaned closer and asked me a question, I realized I hadn’t heard a word of it.

“What?” I asked.

She sighed. “Never mind.”

The final scene played, the music swelling softly. Amber yawned, resting her head against my shoulder.

Then came the sound of a car engine outside.

“She’s back,” I muttered, standing up and heading toward the door.

But when I opened it, the night air was cool and heavy, and instead of Rachel, two police officers stood on the porch.

“Mr. Parker?” one of them asked.

“Yes,” I said, frowning. “Is there a problem?”

The officer’s eyes flicked briefly to Amber before returning to me. “We need to speak with you privately.”

Marissa crossed her arms, frowning. “What’s going on?”

The officer’s voice lowered. “We found your wife’s car parked near Hillcrest Avenue. The doors were unlocked. Her phone and license were still inside.”

For a moment, I could hear every beat of my heart, and I forced myself to react, “What are you saying?”

The officer hesitated before answering. “She’s missing, sir.”

The words struck like a thunderclap.

She’s missing.

A lone woman was missing in the dark night. Without the officer even telling me, I could guess what might’ve happened. I couldn’t breathe or say anything anymore. My heart arched so bad and so tight, a deep pain and fear threatening to veil.

For a long moment, all I could do was stare into the darkness beyond the porch, where the streetlight flickered faintly against the cold night air.

Somewhere out there, Rachel was gone. My wife was gone.