The Disappearance and Reappearance Of Mr. Kingsley

The Arm

After four hours of mindless searching, it was futile, as no one could find the mysterious, possible mistress of James Kingsley.

"And so the plot thickens." Ethan had said aloud that night, whilst typing away at his keyboard. Hitting each key silently. All that night he hadn't seemed brutal or raging at all. Though annoyed, nothing. She kept watch, though. She didn't want nor need any surprises.

Once she had returned to her humble abode, May sighed and threw her keys onto the counter. They made a metal clang. She shuttered. She hated that sound. The sound of metal on metal or just metal, in general, making any type of noise was unnerving. It was another one of her odd traits. They slid generously across the counter, nearly falling off.

She sighed. It wasn't for anything, in particular, just a sigh. Just kind of an exaggerated exhale.

The house was cold. A cold that felt lonely. In her mind, she was lonely, even if Ryan was there. It was a kind of lonely that was only present when one was in a crowd. The worst kind. Being around a hoard of people but feeling utterly alone.

She got undressed, goosebumps sprouting all over her pale skin. Slipping into attire more fitting, she climbed into bed. She felt the coldness of the wooden floor, too. It only added to her freezing body.

"Hi," Ryan said, slowly with a strong appearance of raspiness. She used to adore when his voice was like that. Now it left her unfazed.

She said nothing as his arm draped over her waist. His touch felt foreign — unwanted?

Could it really be? Did the time come where she lost her want for him? She knew that was supposed to happen when they were old, with sagging skin that resembled leather, chattering false teeth and caving hearts. Not now. Not when they were young, beautiful, jam-packed with possibility and endless treasure.

But no. For she had doomed herself. From the minute she laid a finger on Ethan she had sealed away her fate. The very fate that would murder her marriage.

She wanted to save it. Oh, how she did. She couldn't. With every fiber, every cell, every tissue, every muscle in her body she wanted to. She wanted the sweet morning kisses and gentle pillow talk. The late-night massages and the corny but desirable bowling dates.

We could still have that... she pondered, grasping onto anything she could. They could still have that. But May would never feel the passion in it. Her body would be there but her mind elsewhere. Anywhere else.

It wasn't that she wanted to be with Ethan, no, it was more of what being with Ethan had shown her. It gave her newness. May had always thought she was a simple girl with a simple life. A life with children, chatty next door neighbors, and a husband to come home to.

Now it all changed. And she loathed it.

Though her mind was full, she managed to sleep. A thin sleep that didn't hold any dreams nor thoughts.

The phone rang.

The ringing set her ears ablaze and her mind into a foggy headache. She sleepily checked the caller ID, nearly audibly groaning when she saw the letters she came to despise: ETHAN on her all-to-bright screen. Her eyes watered due to the light as she turned it off, rolling over.

Another ringing.

This time she did audibly groan and kicked her feet off of the bed, leaving her husband whom she could no longer love sleepily mumbling words.

"What?" She said, through gritted teeth after picking up the phone.

"You won't believe this." She could sense the exhilaration in his voice. Practically feeling the excitement, she nearly forgot about her anger.

"What is it?"

Her breath hitched as he told her the answer. She too felt a shock of excitement as she practically wobbled over to her closet, pulling a sweatshirt over her face and slipping on dark, navy blue jeans that wielded an awkward rip on her thigh. That mattered little, though.

Her hands shook with anticipation as she drove her car, weaving in and out of the little traffic. It was three in the morning after all.

A dark mist looked over the quaint town like a plague. She definitely thought there was one after the new information Ethan gave her. She couldn't even believe her ears.

Practically murdering the engine and hopping out, she scrambled towards the riverbank at the edge of town. Clumps of trees that seemed all-too-random scattered the river. Instead of sand, rocks created an uneven surface that nearly made her slip. She had forgotten to change her shoes. She was now stuck with bright yellow slippers.

The complete commotion was startling, as it wasn't even dawn. She guessed that the grapevine was shorter than she thought.

"Step back!" A hoarse voice yelled. One she could identify as the chief, Patrick Suave. His breaking bones and aching back no longer belonged in the force, but he digressed.

Through the twigs breaking through her cotton slippers, she felt excited to see what she came there for. An itching for something so grotesque would've made any other person gag. But this was the police force. And finding a severed arm in the middle of the woods wasn't as out-of-the-question as it might be anywhere else.

Making her way through the crowd, she flashed her badge that she graciously happened to grab. After stepping past the initial wall between the public and the alleged crime scene, she was met with a seemingly distraught but also faintly alert Ethan.

Her eyes flickered over the entire spectacle. The yellow tape depicting "CAUTION", the army of paramedics (though, there was no one to save), and men swabbing the arm were hustling all over the place. After finishing their dance, her eyelashes fell upon his.

"Wow." Was all she could muster. Solemnly, she walked closer. The arm was devoid of the natural color it once possessed. For the color was replaced with an eggshell yellow with lines of purple and bulging veins.

"I know, right?" Excitement laced his syllables just as much as shock laced hers.

This wasn't unheard of, but definitely a shock. Especially so when the day before they were looking for a mistress, and now a detached arm was in the picture. What a peculiar picture it was.

"Think it might be Kingsley's?" Ethan questioned, staring down at it as if it was the key to a beckoning vault. 

Maybe it was.

She wasn't about to stand there and pretend the thought never crossed her mind, but she didn't want that to be so.

She knew the odds. She knew that he was probably already dead. She knew that much without the arm appearing. A small town smack-dab in the middle of a woody portion of Virginia mixed with a seemingly innocent man disappearing didn't exactly allow the notion of a safe return to make its way into her mind.

But, as the anti-cynical and spring-loving woman she was, she begged to differ the odds. She took on this case with the hope that she would find this man.

Though, she got more than what she bargained for.