Loyalty by Ingrid Thoft

stuff.”
    Fina sighed. “So I’m assuming you haven’t heard from your mom.”
    “I haven’t heard from my mom,” Haley said in a monotone. “I wish everyone would stop asking me that.”
    Fina and Haley both watched the TV for a moment. A guy with enormous pecs was trying to convince a girl with equally large pecs that he loved her. Fina looked at her niece, but neither fear nor anxiety registered on her smooth skin. Nothing seemed to register there.
    “So you don’t have any idea where your mom might be?”
    Haley rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, Aunt Fina! The spa? Isn’t that the last place she went MIA? I don’t know why everyone’s freaking out.”
    Fina knew that this time was different, but she didn’t see the wisdom in telling Haley that. Not yet.
    “Do you want me to hang out until your dad gets home?”
    “I don’t need a babysitter.”
    “I thought you might like company.”
    “I’m fine, Aunt Fina. Thanks, though.”
    On the way downstairs, Fina wondered if she would have been so blasé if Elaine had dropped out of sight when she was Haley’s age, even if she’d done it before. Who was she kidding? She would have been elated.
    Fina found Milloy in the kitchen; banks of ecru cabinets with brushed gold hardware ran down both sides of the large room. The island in the middle was topped with brown-and-gold-swirled granite, and a bowl of fruit sat near the sink. The bananas on top were brown. Fina reached into her pocket and passed the skin care samples to Milloy. “Merry Christmas.”
    She reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water for each of them.
    “You rock,” Milloy said, and stuffed the samples in his pocket.
    Fina walked over to the built-in desk and began pulling Melanie’s cookbooks off a shelf.
    “Find anything?” she asked Milloy.
    “Melanie keeps a tidy house.”
    “You mean Fernanda keeps a tidy house.” Fina held each cookbook up by its spine and fanned the pages open.
    “I didn’t find anything useful, but I only did a cursory search.”
    Fina grinned. “You worried I might sue you if something turns up later?”
    “The thought did cross my mind.”
    Fina restacked the books on the shelf and examined a pile of invitations and flyers. She flipped open a wooden recipe box and pulled out half the stack of cards, which she handed to Milloy. She started sorting through the other half.
    “What’s this?” Milloy asked and handed Fina a card. It was a recipe card with no recipe, just a phone number.
    Fina turned over the card, but the back was blank. “I don’t know. Maybe she was cooking and had to write down a number before she forgot? I’ll check it out.”
    She slipped it into her bag.

    On the way home, Fina pulled into a grocery store in the South End and went in to get some batteries for her camera. She was contemplating the missing cooler and the nutritional value of packaged cupcakes as she walked out of the store and across the dark parking lot, which explains how she was suddenly sprawled across the pavement on her stomach, a large man on top of her.
    “What the fuck!?” Fina struggled under his weight, but he pinned her down with his knee in her back. He twisted one of her arms behind her and pressed her cheek into the pavement. She could feel the rough surface tearing into her skin.
    “Shut your mouth, bitch. Keep your nose out of other people’s business.” He pushed Fina harder, and she felt her lower back muscles contract with pain.
    “Fuck you,” she grunted.
    He leaned down next to her face. She could smell his sour breath. “Shut the fuck up.” He pushed her head harder into the pavement. “Back off. Got it?” He twisted her wrist.
    Fina didn’t respond.
    He pulled on her hair.
    “Got it! Got it!”
    He stood up slowly and released her arm. She pulled herself to her knees and brushed the gravel and dirt off her face. She watched him walk away.
    Fina didn’t even think about it. She just ran up behind him and sucker