HANDO

Hot and sweaty Hando pulled up at the cabin dragging off his clothes as he went straight inside for a shower. Today was spent up on the scaffolding painting. He found the primer hard to get off his skin and picked up Marce’s scrubby and scrubbed his body until it was red around the black tattooed bones opening up the scratches he’d gotten in the hedgerow. He had a hard time regulating the water; he wanted cool water and couldn’t seem to get anything but warm. Finished he pulled out a towel and wrapped it around him and went to see what was in the oven for his dinner. The oven was empty so he walked to the fridge and had a look inside, nothing made today. He pulled a beer out and went to sit in front of the fan whirring in the living area. Once he was cooled down and the beer gone he went in the kitchen and made himself a sandwich.

Later after the sun had moved to the other side of the woods leaving a bit of shade he went outside and noticed the hose running. That explained the hot shower; he went around the side of the house and cut the faucet off. Marce had left a mess around, bucket of soapy water, rags all over the yard, everything a muddy pool where the hose had run. He started picking up after her and noticed the bike tracks leading to the lake, dropping the bucket he ran down to the water’s edge, he could see the outline of the bike in the lake.

"Marce…" he called and dove in the lake…there was no sign of her anywhere around the bike and he pulled himself out of the lake sitting on the end of the short dock. His mind was whirling out of control, what could have made her push her bike in the lake. He’d known her to get pretty mad but that bike was her pride and joy. He began looking around for some clue as to what had happened here when he heard her cell phone go off on the porch. He ran up to the porch and answered it, it was the leather shop wondering what had happened to Marce…she wasn’t at work and hadn’t called.

Something cold and dreaded began to settle over Hando. He picked up her cell phone and called the sheriff. While he waited for an answer it occurred to him this was the first time in his life he’d ever asked the law for help…but this was Marce and nothing was adding up here…something was bad wrong.