“What did you just... delete?” Anna asked, her eyes narrowing as she fixed them on the laptop screen. Daniel's mouth parted. "Delete... well" His fingers hovered over the laptop for a heartbeat before forcing a shrug. "Just... um… some photos. They came out blurry." "I thought..." Anna frowned, searching his face. "We're checking them together, aren't we?" Daniel opened his mouth, but before he could answer, he stepped onto the Benjamin’s foot. Benjamin winced in pain but refused to make a sound, for fear he might give Daniel away. He had almost replied Anna, when he felt the sharp pain on his foot. He looked from Daniel to Anna, then pressed his lips shut with his hand. He knew something wasn't right. But who was he to meddle in their business? Daniel wasn't acting like someone deleting a few bad pictures. He looked like a man trying to keep someone from seeing them. It wasn't Benjamin’s place to interfere. Still, the uneasiness settled heavily in his chest. Anna felt the color leave her face. No. She hadn't imagined it. Anthony had been there. "I want to see them myself," she said quietly as if giving up the hope. Without waiting for permission, she eased Benjamin aside, placed the tray on the table, and turned the laptop screen toward herself. “Anna…” “Don’t…” She cut Daniel, before he could speak. Her finger moved across the screen. One photograph and then another. She kept scrolling. Her breathing quickened. About thirty scrolls, she was almost giving up. Daniel’s tensed demeanor changed. “I told you it was only your imagination.” Then… Anna paused. She stared with wide, exonerating eyes. The world around her faded into a deafening silence. Her heartbeat screamed. "There..." Her voice barely escaped her lips. Her eyes widened with horror. She blinked once. Anthony. His profile stood among the line of mourners entering the funeral tent. His head was slightly lowered, as though he wished no one would notice him. “I said it...” she whispered, banging the table before her. “I really saw him.” Tears wet her eyes. She pointed at the screen with trembling fingers. Daniel's heart sank. Anna took a step backward while holding her waist, but her legs refused to obey. The little recovered strength drained from them. Before she hit the ground, Daniel caught her in his arms. “Anna!” He looked toward Benjamin, who stood there watching in a daze. “Help me”, Daniel called to him. Together they carried her to her room to rest. … Daniel stood outside Anna’s bedroom door long after Benjamin had left. The house had returned to quietness. He could still hear Anna’s trembling voice as she mumbled on her lips, “I… really saw him.” “I really saw… him.” Daniel pinched in between his eyes, his forehead wrinkled in wonder, and the image from the laptop refused to leave his mind. Apart from the bushy hair and the beard, everything else belonged to the Anthony Coleman he knew. He walked back into the living room. His own laptop sat closed on the coffee table like a witness that had already testified against him. Slowly, he opened the photos and videos again. He had requested Benjamin to leave the files for them, and he had taken them on his own laptop. He had ensured that Benjamin deleted all parts where Anthony appeared, including those on the memory card Benjamin had mentioned earlier. The deleted files were gone. He checked to be sure. After scrolling through the photos for three or so hours, Daniel was certain that no traces of Anthony Coleman were shown in the pile of files. Not even a shadow could be seen. Taking a deep sigh of relief, he shut down his laptop. But the tension lingered still. His reflection stared back at him from the dark screen. “So, Anthony survived”, he mumbled, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He gulped it down onto his heavy chest as he sank onto the sofa. Three months ago, he had watched Anthony’s body hit the marble floor. The echo of the sound of the fall played in his memory as if it was just yesterday. The splattered blood and Anna’s scream. Daniel had convinced himself that the incident was just an accident. He had repeated that lie so many times that part of him had almost believed it. But dead men did not attend funerals. Dead men did not hand their widows embroidered handkerchiefs. And dead men certainly did not look straight into your eyes from a video recording. Daniel’s breathing became uneven as he thought about the possibility. Could it be that Anthony wanted vengeance? What if he went to the police? What if he came back for Anna? Or worse... What if he came back for him? A cold shiver crept down his spine at the thought. For the first time since that night on the staircase, Daniel realized something terrifying. Anthony had not disappeared. Daniel felt that he had returned to get his pound of flesh. Really, Anthony had returned. … Charles stood a short distance away from the funeral event, hidden from sight. She had seen him; he was very sure by the look in her eyes. Her reaction had told him everything. He lowered his head and rubbed a hand across his forehead. Fragments of faces and voices he couldn’t recall were all he could find. Why did seeing her in pain hurt so much? He inhaled slowly, letting go of the thought. Then he left, following the direction to the address he had been given. Emelia would be waiting for him by now. The sun had set, and darkness was approaching. Charles turned away from the funeral grounds and continued walking, fixing his mind on the only goal he could still understand, Emelia’s residence. Number 6, St. James Street. Charles compared the address with the house number. The address was impressed on the gatepost with the number six written large and boldly. The building wasn’t luxurious, yet it offered a compact and straightforward design built purely for comfort. The gate was made of square pipes spaced out so that one could see inside the house. A woman was cleaning. She rolled up the sleeves of her faded blue cotton shirt and tied a worn apron around her waist. She knelt, carefully brushing the accumulated debris onto a wide metal dustpan. Charles waited patiently at the gate as the woman approached with the debris. The woman’s face changed to one of enquiry when she saw Charles. “Good… good evening, madam”, Charles greeted nervously. He knew it wasn’t Emelia. And the woman didn’t resemble Emelia in any way. Could it be her landlady? “Aha… how may I help you?” “Please…Emelia…um… I want to see Emelia.” “Emelia…” The woman said in confusion. “No Emelia lives here, sorry.” She replied while emptying the contents of the dustpan into a rusted bin in front of the gate. She then tapped the edge to clear the remaining dust. “Anyway, a woman moved out not long ago,” the woman continued while entering the house. “I heard she was a nurse or something like that. I’m new here.” The woman’s voice faded away as she entered a room and closed the door behind her. Charles’ shoulders sank. Disappointment had overshadowed him. It was like he had searched in vain. Before he could leave the premises, the woman returned carrying a pile of abandoned items: old magazines, a cracked mug, receipts, and several loose photographs. As the woman was about to drop them into the bin, something caught Charles’ attention. The smile was familiar. His breath caught in his throat, filling him with excitement, but he restrained himself to avoid embarrassment. He waited for the woman to drop them. And then… “Thank you very much, madam, um…I think I need to continue searching. Bye” The woman returned the bye and went inside. As soon as the door slammed shut, Charles searched through the piles in the bin. He retrieved a photograph. “Really, Emelia had lived here”, Charles murmured in excitement while he held the photo. Her hair was tied back loosely, and she was laughing at something outside the frame. For a moment, the noisy world around him disappeared. Hooked to the broken frame of the photograph, a small silver pendant attached to a thin chain revealed itself under the street light. Charles recognized it immediately. Emelia used to wear it around her neck. He remembered seeing it countless times while she adjusted his hospital pillow, checked his bandages, or leaned over him with that patient smile that had made the frightening hospital room feel less lonely. She left that behind? Charles was confused. He knew that pendant meant a lot to Emelia. He had asked her what it meant to her. She opened the small silver pendant briefly, glanced at the photograph inside, and closed it again before Charles could see it clearly. “My sister,” she had said softly. If the pendant was left behind, could it be that Emelia was evicted from the house in a hurry, leaving her no time to pick up her things? That would be heartless on the part of the house owner. Even if Emelia couldn’t pay her rent because she was no longer working, they should at least give her some time. The world sure is ruthless. Charles sympathized. Charles turned the pendant over in his palm. The metal was cool against his skin. A strange sadness settled inside him as he slipped both the photograph and the pendant carefully into his pocket. At least his search had not been in vain, he thought. Outside, the evening darkness had deepened. Streetlights brightened the walkways, and the city was already settling into night. Emelia was gone. And now he had no idea where to find her next.

No Emelia Here