Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) by Karen Rose

            The thought made him frown. If Pebbles was here, Liza had to have brought her over. He hoped she hadn’t gone on her morning run. Surely she wouldn’t be so foolish.

            He ran down the stairs and almost went out his kitchen door. Then realized that maybe Liza wouldn’t want him just walking in anymore. Not after last night.

            Feeling more awkward than he had in forever, he went out his front door, crossed the small yard they shared, and knocked on hers. And knocked again. Alarm had his heart racing and he pounded on her door with one hand while he dug in his trouser pocket for his keys with the other.

            “She’s gone already.”

            Tom looked to his left where their neighbor, a retired teacher, stood on his stoop, puffing on his pipe while his Yorkie busily sniffed the grass. “Good morning, Mr. Tolliver. What do you mean she’s gone already?”

            Mr. Tolliver shrugged. “She left. I was letting Sweetie-Pie out for her morning pee and saw Liza driving out of the garage. Her car was filled with boxes.”

            Tom’s mouth opened. “Boxes?”

            “Yes, young man. Boxes. Like, you know,” he added sarcastically, “cardboard things that you put stuff in? Boxes.”

            Tom couldn’t find a suitable reply so he merely said, “Thank you, sir.” His hands were shaking when he found his keys and he had to try twice before getting the key into the lock.

            “She was crying.”

            Tom froze at the old man’s words. Fuck. He forced himself to look left again, finding Tolliver’s face creased in concern. “Excuse me?”

            “I said that she was crying. And I think she had been for a while. Her face was swollen and red. She just carried boxes to her car and cried, not even stopping to wipe her eyes.”

            Oh my God. Fear gripped his heart. “Thank you, sir. I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

            “See that you do,” he said gruffly. “She’s a nice girl, that one. Brings me fresh-baked brownies once a week without fail. And she likes Sweetie-Pie.”

            Which alone made Liza a saint. The man’s dog was an evil ankle biter. “Thank you,” he said once more and entered Liza’s house.

            At first glance, it looked normal. Alarm system armed, all the furniture in the same place. But then he noticed all the things missing. The afghan that her mother had made was gone. The photos of her mother and sister that had lined the mantel. All gone.

            Numbly he walked into the kitchen and opened a cupboard. Her dishes were still there, but all the cookware that had been her mother’s was gone.

            Slowly he climbed the stairs, knowing what he’d find. It still hurt to see.

            Her bed was made with military precision, and not a single speck of dust was on the furniture she’d bought when they’d moved in. But the closet and drawers were empty, all the clothing gone. Her suitcases were gone. As was her gun safe.

            Her bathroom was so clean that it sparkled, but every shelf was empty of toiletries. No shampoo that smelled like crisp apples. No makeup.

            She had left a roll of toilet paper in the cabinet and a hand towel on the rack.

            He swallowed hard.

            She’s gone. She left me.

            No, she left, period. Not you. There was no you to leave.

            “Bullshit,” he hissed aloud. They were still friends. He still deserved a damn goodbye. But then he heard her voice, tentative and small.

            You didn’t feel the same way.

            No. I didn’t.

            “Goddammit.” He pulled out his personal phone and dialed her number. It rang several times before going to voice mail. Swearing viciously, he called again. This time she answered.

            “Hello, Tom.” The words were heavy and sad and he swallowed again.

            I’m sorry. Come back. I’ll try.

            But none of those words would come out. Instead he snarled. “Where the fuck are you?”