2. The cold wind made him clench his unzipped coat and crouch his head. Danny walked down the sidewalk that faced his apartment building and wondered how soon he’d move back in. He’d leased the new luxury pad less than a year ago. It was in the middle of Prospect neighborhood, close to Coors Field and Union Station. Living there had allowed him to meet and impress Brooke at a nearby bar one night. Little did he know at the time that he’d eventually move in with her. It wasn’t because Brooke’s place was nicer. It was more to keep her out of his life just in case.

Just in case she turns out to be boil-the-rabbit material.

He’d once used that term around her and the twenty-something didn’t get it. Danny understood. He was thirty-one years old but knew enough about pop culture to understand the reference from the ‘80’s film Fatal Attraction about a psycho lady. Danny was proud of his knowledge of films and music and books and anything else related to media from the last fifty years.

Brooke had stayed angry at him last night and had even decided to sleep in the guestroom. Her guest bedroom. He’d made one attempt to make up, but he seriously didn’t have the energy. Danny didn’t care. He honestly didn’t. This was why he’d moved in with her. Why he was going to lease the apartment again even if things were going along fine. There was a reason he wasn’t married by now. It was because women always, always turned into Brooke. Needy, wanting, griping babies.

His suitcase was packed for his trip and he was ready to go to the airport, but he remembered one thing he needed to pick up from his office. He still came in to work just like anybody else would. The difference was he was self-employed and his office was in his apartment.

Danny reached the fourth floor and unlocked his door. The silence that greeted him was actually soothing. He dropped his phone and keys on the island in the kitchen, then checked the fridge to see if there was any kind of food inside that could get funky while he was on his trip. Everything appeared just like it had yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. Brooke called him a neat freak and a germaphobe and someone with OCD. But coming from a chick who was clearly cuckoo, these insults didn’t mean much.

The inside of the refrigerator agreed with Brooke. His milk was in its regular place facing outward, the bottles of beer lined up with their labels all front and center. Lots of rows and items that seemed to fit side-by-side. He usually only ate lunch in this apartment, but still he needed to maintain order and cleanliness.

Brooke’s right but whatever.

There was a folder on the town he was heading to in North Carolina that he’d forgotten in his office. He didn’t have to come by and get it—most of the info he had could be found in links online and in information he’d already placed in a Word file called SOLITARY. Right now he was finding out facts and rumors and anything else that would be noteworthy to find. The folder contained articles he’d printed out and also random notes he’d either made or found, but most important was the photo inside. The picture of the retired sheriff who had been on record talking about the events that made national headlines in this town just a few years ago.

Before heading into his office down the hall, Danny picked up the framed photo of himself standing between his parents. The bald, round man with a big smile on one side and the petite, curly-haired woman with a look of pride on the other. It had been the day he’d signed his publishing deal for six figures. Two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars, actually. For two books, one that he was still currently working on. All because of his wonderfully witty blog Brooke never read.

Four years ago. A lot could change in four years. A father can die of a massive and sudden stroke. A mother can suddenly start to go senile. Your two biggest fans can suddenly be gone.