Split [ONC 2024]

7. Work

I don't know what to do with myself.

Detective Trevor has other matters to take care of, and we both gave up on the idea of a hospital. Whatever is happening  can't be fixed by doctors. He tells me to stay home and try to get some sleep, but I can't. So I find myself pacing the living room, obsessively staring at the corners of the ceiling, waiting for the shadows to show up again.

They don't. The house is cold and empty.

For a moment, I wonder where Steve is. I can't call and ask because I left my phone at the police station. I should go get it, but I can't be there again, not so soon.

It's only two in the afternoon. I can't believe it's only been five hours. It feels like a lifetime.

I can't keep obsessing over this. I'll go insane if I do.

There's nothing you can do about it, Eva. I just need to let detective Trevor do his job and figure it out.

I am nothing in this investigation. Just a victim. Not even a suspect. I haven't done anything wrong. All I can do is wait.

The nervous energy inside me needs an outlet so I decide that the best way to proceed is to go about my day as if I didn't wake up with my car covered in blood. I will take Steve's car and go to work.

Doing my best to keep my mind as empty as possible, I get out of the house, into the car, and drive downtown. The radio is keeping me company, blasting Steve's preppy old-school music. I allow myself a small chuckle. He's such a cliché. The young and handsome University professor draped in tweed and listening to evergreen music. I know a lot of his students have crushes on him.

As I park the car in my allotted space, I wonder again if he could be having an affair. But I don't believe it. Steve is faithful, and even if we've been rocky for the past few months as I struggled with my workload, he's too comfortable to pursue anyone new.

The elevator dings and I enter the open space of my firm on the twelfth floor. There is a low murmur as I step between the cubicles. I say hello, but only receive muttered replies. This is odd and slightly offensive. For all they know, I could have spent all morning with a potential new client. This isn't the first time I'm not in at 9 a.m. on the dot.

By the time I reach my office, I'm a little pissed. I sit at my desk, turn on my laptop, and watch everything loading, including the thirty or so e-mails waiting for me. I fight back a groan. Maybe I should take my laptop home and deal with this there. I'm not in the right mind to stay here. Not when everything is annoying me.

"Well, well, look who decided to finally show up."

I visibly cringe at the voice. Anika is in the doorway, her shoulder against the jamb, arms crossed over her chest. She's wearing a red blazer dress cinched with a wide black belt, her frizzy hair pined at the sides as usual, the rest of it flowing down her back. I like the outfit, but it does nothing for her pinched face.

"I've had issues this morning," I say, indicating that she should come in and take a seat.

She doesn't. She stays in the doorway. "Oh, issues you say." Her voice is much louder than it needs to be.

"Yes, issues. Please come in and I'll tell you all about it."

"I don't care to hear 'all about it", Eva! You can't just disappear off the face of the Earth for hours and then just come waltzing in as if nothing happened! I called you a million times! Sent you a million e-mails."

She's yelling. She's definitely yelling when she doesn't have to. I grit my teeth together. She definitely didn't send me a million e-mail. I only have two from her out of which the subject line for one is ??????? and that's probably when she asked where I was. But I received that one about two hours ago.