A pang of guilt radiated through me as I drove along the familiar route to O’Connor’s two-story home. Since my history professor had disappeared, I hadn’t bothered to check in on his wife. The mystery and intrigue of the Black Raptor Society had pervaded my mind; I’d all but forgotten about Eileen. Now I realized how callous and cruel it was not to have considered her in all of the chaos. Her life partner was gone, missing, and she had no idea of the permanence of the situation.
I bounced into O’Connor’s driveway, pulling up behind Eileen’s outdated minivan, and peered up at the familiar outline of the house. It spoke to Eileen’s spirit. The crisp yard was free of dead leaves, the flower beds were well-tended despite the absence of blooms, the clean white shutters had been repainted recently, and the swinging bench that sat on the front porch swayed back and forth in a romantic waltz. It was clear that Eileen had not used O’Connor’s disappearance as an excuse to neglect her home. The outside of the house was just as immaculate as I always remembered.
As I walked up to the front door, I took a deep steadying breath and wiped my palms on the front of my jeans. My hands were cold and clammy, and my chest felt tight, but there was no option to delay this meeting. If Eileen was in possession of any additional information on the Black Raptor Society, it was imperative for me to obtain it, no matter the toll it took on my emotions. I lifted the door knocker, rapping three times.
A few seconds passed by before anyone responded. O’Connor’s orange tabby cat hopped up into the window next to the door, and a moment later, Eileen herself pushed aside the curtain to determine who her visitor was. I gave a little wave of my fingers, to which Eileen responded with a small smile of recognition. She stepped back to open the door.
“You look positively freezing!” said Eileen, beckoning me inside before I even had a chance to greet her. “Come in, come in.”
I stomped the extra snow off my boots before stepping over the threshold and into Eileen’s warm house. As Eileen relieved me of my coat and hung it by the door, I glanced around. The inside of O’Connor’s home looked the same as it had on my previous visits. There were no visible signs that Eileen was suffering from the loss of her husband. Everything was clean and tidy, and the smell of chicken in a slow cooker wafted into the front entryway from the kitchen.
“I’m sorry I didn’t stop by sooner,” I said, stooping down to pat the tabby cat. He wound himself around my ankles, purring merrily, and I felt relieved that, at the very least, Eileen had a friendly pet to keep her company. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she said, ushering me into the living room. “Just fine. Have a seat, dear. Would you like a cup of tea? Hot cocoa? Coffee? Biscuits? I have blueberry muffins and vanilla scones.”
I sank into a cushiony armchair. As per usual, Eileen skipped the pleasantries and sprinted straight into hospitality. I knew she worked part time as a nurse for a nearby doctor’s office. Her instinct to take care of anyone who walked through her house must have been rooted in her profession. At first, I shook my head. What with the time limit on Wes’s survival, I had to make the most of every minute. Then I changed my mind. If there was any one person who deserved an extra moment with me, it was Eileen O’Connor.
“Actually, coffee sounds great.”
Eileen’s expression brightened. “Cream and sugar?”
“Just cream.”
“And a scone too?”
“Sure.”
The tabby cat jumped up into my lap, warming my knees, as Eileen disappeared into the kitchen. Absentmindedly, I ran my fingers over the patterns of his orange fur. The purring intensified, the vibrations of which were oddly comforting. It was easy to feel safe in Eileen’s home. If only I had better news to deliver to her.
“Coffee and a scone for you,” said Eileen, appearing with a steaming mug and a small plate. She set both on the TV table next to me then offered a small treat to the tabby. “And a tasty morsel for you.”
I smiled as the cat accepted his reward and hopped off my lap to eat it elsewhere undisturbed, then picked up the fresh mug of coffee to blow cool air across the surface. Eileen settled down on the couch, turning to face me.
“Now, Nicole. What can I help you with?”
“I just wanted to see how you were holding up,” I said, unsure of how to broach the subject of O’Connor’s disappearance. “You know, since everything happened…”
“You mean since my husband vanished into thin air?”
I hesitated then nodded slightly.
“I…” she began. She looked down at her hands, spinning her wedding band around her third finger. “I’m not quite sure how to feel, really. I miss George terribly, and I truly don’t understand how this could’ve happened.”
“You haven’t heard anything from the police?” I ventured, taking a sip of coffee now that it had cooled enough.
Eileen shook her head. “I suspect George’s prolonged absence doesn’t precisely take precedence at the station. They only visited here once, asked me a few questions, and took their leave.”
“Er, what sort of things did they ask?”
“When I had seen him last, what he had been wearing, et cetera,” said Eileen, waving a hand dismissively. “The usual.”
“Did they ask to see any of O’Connor’s things?”
“No, which I found quite strange,” admitted Eileen. “They searched his office at Waverly, as you are probably already aware, but the investigation barely extended to our home. They went through his things very briefly here, but that
