Chapter 19

Elena

“How did your finals go?” Viper asks over the phone as I’m warring the weather conditions on my way home.

“Ugh. I don’t know. I completely botched my chemistry final; I can feel it. But my others went alright, I think.” It’s always the Chemistry tests that I’m never sure of, but this time it’s for a different reason.

Lack of sleep and not being able to concentrate.

“Oh, kiddo, don’t be too hard on yourself. You did the best you could.”

Kiddo. Dad used to call me that. For some reason, it doesn’t bother me when Viper says it, instead, it warms my insides a little.

“Thanks.”

“Not a problem. How far are you out?”

“About an hour – it might take a bit longer because the roads are starting to get slick. I’m very surprised to see ice and some snow down here. I didn’t think this sort of thing happened in Georgia.”

Viper chuckles through the phone. “Every once in a while, we’ll get cold weather like this. Don’t expect a lot of snow though. We’ll probably get less than an inch.”

“Oh darn… I was hoping to build a snowman,” I laugh through the receiver.

“Liar.”

We chuckle into the phone because we both know that I hate the cold and, most of all – snow. It’s pretty, but once you go out in it to shovel, drive, or walk – it’s a hard pass for me.

“Well, if I’m not home, I’ll be in the church. Just swing on by. I’ve missed ya.”

“I’ve missed you too. I will!”

********

Navigating the icy roads brings back memories of driving in similar, but worse, wintery conditions in Michigan. I don’t miss this. At. All.

Thankfully, after an hour of gripping the steering wheel at ten and two for dear life, I finally make it home. It’s almost pitch-black outside as I come up to the church; in the distance, I see a light glowing from inside the farmhouse past the field as well as inside the church. There’s a fifty-fifty shot of Viper being in his office, so I pull into the gravel parking lot. If he’s not here, then I’ll head to the house.

Although, it surprises me that his truck isn’t in the parking lot. I would think that he wouldn’t be up to walking across the path in the field with these conditions.

Then again, he does prefer to walk because it helps him to meditate and focus his mind.

If he’s here, I’ll just have him join me in this truck – I’ll take him back home.

After rushing through the frigid wind which feels like it splices my skin, I finally make it to the double doors of the church. As soon as I pull open the door and step inside, the toasty air is enough to melt an ice sculpture in minutes.

This is more like it.

“Hello?” I speak into the foyer. There’s no response, so I step a bit further into the sanctuary. “Viper?” I don’t yell it, but it is louder than I normally talk.

Still nothing. Maybe he isn’t here.

I continue my way through the church to his office thinking perhaps he has his ear buds in; he does that from time to time while he works on things.

When I come up to his office, I see he isn’t here. Aside from normal belongings, the office is empty.

Click.

A door doesn’t necessarily slam, but it was closed louder than normal, causing me to whip around.

It came from the basement. Is the homeless guy still living here?

Could it have been Viper?

The door to the basement is open this time – not closed. Perhaps it was Viper then. I think that if the homeless guy was still down there then the door at the top of the stairs would be closed for privacy.

Right?

Not thinking too much of it, I make my way to the stairs and take one step at a time to the bottom.

The door at the bottom is a little more than cracked open, so I gently push it further. “Hello?” I quietly ask anyone who might be down here.

The fact that I have yet to hear anyone else’s voice has me regretting this decision – and the fact that steam is rolling under another door to my left. With the sound of water running -someone must be in the shower. Clearly, it isn’t Viper and I’ve trespassed.

As I’m about to turn my back on the perfectly made cot in the corner and a couple of pairs of familiar black combat boots on the floor at the foot of the bed, I see at the corner of my eye, a picture on a bookshelf near the cot.

A picture of me.

And my father.

The one that he always kept in his cop car.

Why is that here?

I take a few more steps towards the photo. We were so happy that day – although I forget why. My dad is pulling a silly face and I’m laughing – I wish I remembered this day more clearly. Reaching for it, I hold the creased material between my thumb and index finger.

Why is this here?

Being in a state of what could be described as shock, is probably the reason why I do not hear a door open from behind me.

However, I do hear a low, southern, husky, familiar voice say, “Oh, shit.”

****Whoop there it is! HAHA!! These next few chapters are going to be intense :) Thank y'all for reading! I appreciate all of you! I will update again soon! ****