I sat in the wooden chair running searches through my personal email archive for anything Rebecca had sent before she disappeared eight months ago.

A key turned in the front deadbolt.

The back door swung open, and Garrett came in carrying two brown paper grocery bags.

“I brought over some soup and fresh bread from the deli,” Garrett said, setting the bags on the kitchen island.

He looked past my shoulder at the bright screen.

“What are you hunting for this late?”

“Some old payroll files from last spring,” I said.

Garrett came around the counter, his eyes running over the open search bar on the screen.