Millie tosses around in bed for what feels like hours. The sheets twisted around her legs like vines. No matter how many times she flips her pillow or shifts her position, sleep remains just out of reach—taunting her with its absence. The soft rise and fall of Steven's breathing beside her only amplifies her frustration. She lies still for a moment, staring at the ceiling. "It's no use," she sighs.
Sliding out of bed, she tiptoes downstairs, the floorboards creaking under her bare feet with every careful step. Plopping onto the couch, she grabs the remote and begins flipping through the stations. "With over a hundred channels, you'd think I could find something besides infomercials.
With a groan, she tosses the remote onto the cushion beside her and slumps back into the sofa. Her gaze drifts to the window, where the moonlight casts silver shadows across the quiet street. Maybe a long, relaxing drive will wear me out, she thinks.
She heads to the laundry room, grabs a clean outfit still warm from the dryer, and quickly changes. Running her fingers through her hair, Millie twists it into a messy bun, then glances in the hallway mirror. "That'll have to do." She snatches her keys from the table and slips out the door; the night's cool air gently brushes her skin, sending a chill down her spine. Shivering, she takes a quick look around before climbing into her car.
*****
Joe lounges on the couch in his dimly lit apartment, the flickering TV casting shifting shadows across the paneled walls. Rachel's still at work; the kids are tucked in bed, and Joe is enjoying the peace and quiet. He reaches for the bag of chips beside him. His eyes never leaving the screen. Rachel would have a fit if she saw me eating these. He smirks. Rachel doesn't like him eating a bunch of junk, letting him know every chance she gets.
The apartment, although cramped, has become home. They moved in when Rachel was pregnant with their first. Two more kids later, it's tight but manageable, and Rachel's family is close by. Her sister, Becca, is across the hall, and her biological mom is a few doors down. They're built-in babysitters, Joe often joked.
The front door clicks open. Joe's hand darts to the chip bag, shoving it between the cushions. The crinkle is deafening. Smooth, he thinks.
Rachel steps inside, dropping her purse and keys on the table.
"I was wondering if you were ever coming home."
"Got caught up in research," she says, kicking off her shoes. "Lost track of time."
Joe brushes chip crumbs from his shirt. "Find anything interesting?"
"I want to talk to Millie Clark tomorrow. Apparently, she and Sam had words hours before he died."
"Does she have an alibi?"
"She says she was home alone waiting for her husband. No one can confirm it."
The movie credits roll, soft music playing in the background. Joe yawns and stretches. "That was a good movie."
"Becca and I watched the show a few weeks ago. She liked it. I thought it was all right. Didn't like the ending."
"You never do like to see the bad guys win," he teases, handing her the remote. "I'm heading to bed."
"I was thinking the same." She smiles. "You might want to hide your chips before the kids find them."
Joe raises an eyebrow. "How'd you know?"
Chuckling, Rachel shakes her head as she walks down the hall.
They've been married fifteen years, but their story started long before that; they were grade school friends and later high school sweethearts. Everyone expected them to marry, but life had other plans. Joe joined the military. Rachel moved to Harrison for nursing school. Years later, fate brought them back together during a case Joe was working on. Rachel was determined to prove her cousin Emma's innocence, and Joe tried to prove her wrong.
She left her nursing career behind not long after solving the case, joining the force, and climbing the ranks. She became a detective in five years and a sergeant four years later.
Rachel peeks into her son's room. Joe Jr. is fast asleep, his face peaceful in the moonlight. Ten already. She crosses the hall to check on her youngest to find him curled up in his toddler bed. My baby will be in preschool this fall. Where has the time gone?
She tiptoes into Lulu's room. The princess night-light glows softly, casting a warm hue over the fairytale wallpaper. Lulu sleeps with one arm draped over her life-sized doll, the picture of innocence. Rachel smiles, remembering the chubby toddler who used to babble nonsense and waddle across the room. I can't believe she's in second grade already.
As she steps into the hallway, Joe is waiting. He sees the look on her face.
"Is everything alright?"
"They're all sleeping like little angels," she says, wiping a tear.
"What's wrong, honey?"
"Our babies are growing up," she whispers, pressing her face against his chest.
"They can't stay little forever."
"I know," she says, her voice trembling. "But still..."
Joe takes her hand. "I know what'll make you feel better."
Rachel pulls back, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, Joe, I just can't tonight."
He rolls his eyes. "Is that all you think about? You sex-crazed woman, you."
She laughs. "Well, I—"
"I meant a hot bath," he says, chuckling.
She grins. "That I can do."
They barely reach their bedroom when the phone rings. Joe picks it up and glances at the caller ID. "It's the station."
Rachel checks hers. "Mine is too."
"Bower," they say in unison. They glance at each other and smile as the caller begins speaking.
"We'll be right there, Jerr," Joe says, hanging up.
The captain and sergeant pull up to the crime scene and find the yard taped off. The forensics team is combing through the grass, flashlights sweeping in arcs. Finding the ME's vehicle parked in the driveway, they assume Sharon is inside the house.
Jerry walks over to meet them. "His name's Evan Brown," he says, tapping his chest. "He took two straight to the heart—just like Sam."
"Who called it in?" Joe asks.
Jerry points to the far corner of the lot. "Delivery guy. Jack Nolan. He says he heard Evan calling for help when he was dropping off food. He ran in and found him bleeding out on the living room floor. Called 911, but it was too late by the time paramedics got here."
"Did Evan say anything before he passed?"
Jerry shakes his head. "The victim begged for help, but that was it.
Joe nods. "Tell Kirk to check for any cameras in the area. See if anyone saw anything. And I want you to do a deep dive on Evan Brown."
"You got it, Captain."
Rachel walks back over, her brow furrowed. "Forensics says there's no sign of a break-in or struggle. The alarm was off—disarmed at 7:15 from the panel, which the company says is his usual time. According to their logs, he typically resets it around midnight. The alarm company log shows the door opening at 7:14, then again at 11:35—the time the driver says he arrived."
Joe processes that. "So the intruder either followed him in… or was already inside waiting."
"Does anything appear to be missing?" he adds.
Rachel shakes her head. "No."