The front door of the apartment was opened a crack. That meant Matthew was home.
Generally, Rosalyn Burbank preferred being the first one through the door at night. It gave her time to unwind, to transition from work to home. To savor a glass of wine and a hot shower before starting to think about dinner.
But tonight she was just as happy her husband had beaten her to their Upper East Side apartment. The two of them needed to talk.
Something was weighing on her husband's mind, and had been for weeks. She'd waited for him to approach her and broach the subject. He hadn't. That was way out of character. Matthew wasn't big on secrets. Neither was Rosalyn. It was probably one of the reasons their marriage had endured for thirty-three years. And what made this situation worse, was that whatever Matthew was keeping from her was significant. He wasn't himself. He was quiet and pensive, and he tossed and turned all night, every night.
Rosalyn was really starting to worry.
Lincoln Park
Chicago, Illinois
May 17th
Lisa opened the front door and peeked down the street. The sun was starting to dip down toward the horizon, and there was still no sign of her benefactor.
The May evening was still warm enough to sit outside, and Lisa needed the air anyway. After a full day of waiting on rich women and a few hours of deep house cleaning, she was ready to relax.
She poured herself a glass of ice tea and went out to the front porch, sitting on the top step to enjoy the evening and wait for Julie to arrive.
About a half hour later, she spotted Julie coming down the street. She was striding angrily, gripping a bag in her hands. Even from a distance, Lisa could see that something was very wrong. As she approached, Lisa could see that she was shaking.
