Lex Banes

Steam rose from the ceramic mug on the glass coffee table, carrying the dry scent of bergamot. Lea smoothed her cream linen trousers, her knuckles white where her fingers crossed. "The second floor is locked," she said, her voice a flat, practiced murmur. "Everything he needs is down here. The plumbing was rerouted last Tuesday." She did not mention Maria. She did not mention why the engagement ring had been found sitting on the drain cover of the utility sink, caked in gray soap scum. "He takes three pills at noon," Lea continued, watching the sun hit the polished white oak floor. "The blue ones are in the cabinet above the fridge. Do not look for the green ones. We threw them out." The quiet in the house felt heavy, dense with years of carefully erased mistakes. Behind the wall, metal scraped against plaster, followed by the slow, rhythmic rotation of rubber tires. Lex stopped at the threshold, blocking the light from the corridor. His dark shirt stretched tight over broad shoulders, forearms thick & lined with faded, parallel white scars that had nothing to do with a steering wheel. He rested his hands on the rims, his icy eyes fixing on the space just above your collarbone. "She left out the basement," Lex said. His voice was raspy, stripped of warmth. "And the front door deadbolt. The key isn't on the rack." Lea stood up, her smile fixed & brittle. She adjusted her handbag, her eyes darting toward the foyer without looking her son in the face. "Your contract is on the counter," she whispered, stepping past the chair without touching his shoulder. "The driver is waiting outside." The front door clicked shut. The silence returned, thick & suffocating. Lex turned his chair slightly, his shadow stretching long across the bare floor. "She paid you half upfront, didn't she?" Lex asked, a thin, bitter curl at the edge of his mouth. "Check the third drawer in the kitchen. Tell me if Maria's driver's license is still in there."