“Oh God!” she sobs into my blazer. “Have you heard?”
Gently, I peel her off me and take a step back. “Heard what?”
“Tom’s been missing all weekend. His wife called the police.”
My heart thuds. One word clangs around in my skull.
“Hiswife?”
Kayla, oblivious to my reaction, continues quickly. “She was away Friday night, out of town. Got back Saturday—no Tom. He still hasn’t shown up.”
That cheating bastard.
Awife.
Jesus. I’m actually relieved I didn’t invite him upstairs to break my year-long celibacy.
But how the hell did I not know he was married?
As soon as I get to my office I slump down into my desk chair, my energy already drained and it's not even nine in the morning.
The workday passes in a haze, my mind fixated on Tom. What if I was the last person to see him alive? Will the police come asking questions?
I smile at my patients, ask the right questions, but my mind is elsewhere.
By the time I get home I’m a bundle of nerves.
I strip out of my uncomfortable clothes, pulling on some joggers and a hoodie, ready to curl on my couch.
I pause though, before stepping out of my bedroom.
Something seems off—
There’s a box on my chest of drawers. Wrapped in gift paper with a bow tied on top.
My heart is in my throat as I take a cautious step towards it.
With trembling fingers, I remove the wrapping paper to reveal a small, black wooden box, smooth and matte beneath my fingers. It’s heavier than I expected. There’s a silver latch on the front, and when I flick it open, I’m met with blood-red velvet lining.
Nestled at the centre like a treasured heirloom… is a finger.
I almost drop the box as I jolt in surprise, a gasp slipping from my throat.
The ping of my phone nearly sends me screaming.
I snatch it up with shaking hands.
Anonymous:You are mine. No man touches you but me.
Oh my God.
Who—
Tom.
This is Tom’s finger.
We went on a date. And now someone has cut off his finger as a message to me.