Anger surges in me. “What the hell was he doing there? Why did he go back?”
Rhett places a hand on my shoulder and says gently, “He had to deal with the business after Magda’s death.”
The sergeant clears her throat. “What time did your husband leave the house this morning?”
I turn back to her. “I don’t know. When I woke up he was gone.”
“We left at six,” Rhett said, “as I already told you.”
She ignores him, keeping her attention fixed on me. “I’ll let you know what we find.” She reaches inside her pocket and pulls out a business card. “In the meantime, if you have any questions or information you think may be helpful, don’t hesitate to call.”
I take the card with numb fingers, staring at the name without seeing it.
“Good day, Mrs. Louw.” She gets to her feet. “Again, I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
Rhett sees her to the door while Quincy stays at my side.
“Who did it?” I ask Rhett when he returns.
“If I knew, Val, he’d already be dead.”
I hug myself to contain my shaking. “Someone knew he’d be going there.”
“Everyone knew,” Quincy said with a note of despair, “and the sergeant is right. He had many enemies.” His tone darkens. “As do you.”
“He’s not dead. I don’t believe it.”
“Val.” Rhett goes down on one knee, putting us on eye level. “He’s gone. He walked in there, and two minutes later an explosion rocked the place.” He shakes his head. “I’m so fucking sorry. No one and nothing could’ve survived the blast.”
The connection between us is still there. Could it be like a ghost limb? Would I feel the itch long after my soul mate has been amputated, like with my thumb?
Before I can analyze my thoughts, Charlie comes downstairs wearing his batman T-shirt and pajama bottoms. I go to him with outstretched arms, needing his comfort even if he doesn’t understand. I lean my head against his chest and whisper, “Gabriel’s gone.”
“Gabriel’s go–gone.”
At the affirmation, my whole being shatters. My legs cave in. Like a lump of dead weight, I plummet to the floor. All I want is to curl up and stay there, but at witnessing my distress, Charlie starts pulling at his hair. He needs me. Connor needs me. In a flash, Quincy and Rhett are there, helping me to my feet.
“We’ve got you,” Quincy says. “You’re going to be all right, do you hear me? It’ll take time, but eventually you’ll be all right.”
The words don’t soothe me, because I don’t believe them. Without Gabriel, nothing will be all right, so I put my strength in hope, in this strange connection that still seems to simmer between us.
“We’ll find him,” I say to Quincy, “and then I’ll be fine.”
A look passes between him and Rhett.
“There’s been too many damn funerals in this family,” Rhett grits out, “and I’ll be damned if we add another one to it.” He marches me over to the kitchen and calls for Charlie to follow. “First things first. You have to eat. I’m cooking.”
The police give clearance for the Brixton office two months after the explosion. It didn’t take two months to sift through the debris for evidence. They just didn’t have the staff to attend to it before. What they give me is a report and a plastic bag with Gabriel’s distorted wedding band, the only item they salvaged. This token––his ring––announces that he’s gone for real. Had I not believed so strongly he’s alive, I would’ve collapsed on the spot. The police report states human remains were recovered, but are unidentifiable. The only link to the body destroyed in the blast, confirming the deceased’s identity, is the platinum ring. Officially, Gabriel has been declared dead. Officially, I’m a widow.
Gabriel has always been a meticulous planner. It doesn’t come as a surprise that he has his funeral organized to the last detail, leaving nothing for me to do but mourn. Dressed in black, with Kris by my side, I stand at the edge of a grave as an empty coffin is lowered into the ground. As long as Gabriel is not inside that coffin there’s a chance he’s alive. Until I see his body with my own eyes, I refuse to believe it. Dr. Engelbrecht says I’m in denial, but he doesn’t feel the bond I feel with Gabriel. He says denial is the first step in the grieving process, and it’s perfectly normal, but he doesn’t know I’ve been grieving since I turned thirteen. If he knew my intentions, he’d say nothing about what I feel is normal and I should be locked up in an asylum. I intend to spend every cent at my disposal to find the man who stole me. In my heart, I’m certain he’s alive, even as Rhett assures me every day that Gabriel entered that building. Rhett went as far as to get the tapes from the street security cameras that monitor the building, showing Gabriel’s broad shoulders disappear through the door. My husband must be Houdini, then.