73:Gone

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Isabelle Claiborne

He’s gone.

Belle doesn’t bother double-checking the number on the door, because she knows she’s in the right place. Even over the rotting stink of the water, she can smell Mr. Lovejoy’s cologne.

He was here, but he’s gone.

A hatchet floats by in the water, suspended in limbo. A smashed cabinet door falls off its hinges, soaking Belle even further. Half of a set of handcuffs is still attached to a water pipe, its chain severed.

She took him. He’s gone.

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