âMaybe heâs busy with work,â she replied, trying to sound unconcerned.
Lyndon was consistently occupied with his work.
Perhaps he had immersed himself back into it after mourning Rosanna at the cemetery.
âWhy donât you give him a call?â Elma suggested after hesitating for a moment.
âItâs okay.
Heâll come back once heâs done,â Tilda said with a reassuring smile.
Elma opened her mouth but said nothing, retreating to her room.
She had prepared some soup for Lyndon, but it appeared he wouldnât be drinking it tonight since he hadnât returned.
Tilda went upstairs to take a shower.
After drying her hair, she went downstairs for a glass of water.
The house was eerily quiet, and Lyndon still hadnât come back.
Outside, the moon shone brightly in the clear sky.
As she sipped her water, Tilda gazed out the window, her thoughts drifting to Lyndon.
She knew Lyndon and Rosanna had deeply loved each other.
Was Lyndon buried in work, or still mourning Rosanna?
After a momentâs contemplation, Tilda picked up her phone and dialed Lyndonâs number.
âs BunnyBookery
It went straight to voicemail.
Tilda frowned.
Lyndon rarely turned off his phone; his work demands meant it was usually buzzing constantly.
But tonight, it was off.
Had he switched it off deliberately? Or was it out of battery?
Recalling Lyndonâs words about needing to be alone, a flicker of worry crossed Tildaâs face.
Was he still alone at Rosannaâs grave?
Staring at the moonlit sky, she bit her lip and decided to go find him.
It was bitterly cold outside.
If Lyndon was at the cemetery in this weather, he could literally freeze to death.
Tilda hurried upstairs to change, then drove straight to the cemetery.
She parked near the entrance and stepped out into the chilly night, wrapping her coat tightly around her.
âWhoâs there?â