“You need to leave. Tonight. Your wife and child will stay here, where we can watch them, but you will leave.”
“You might want to hear me out. We are watching their every move. Either you leave, or you all die. Your choice.”
“You may go home,” the man continued. “Pack your things. But you cannot leave any note telling your wife where you are going. We’ll know.”
“Because, Mr. Craw, you won’t stop mucking up our plans. You keep getting involved when it’s really not your business.
“Go home, Mr. Craw. I expect you to be gone in the hour. Don’t... try anything. Trust us. We’ll know.”
Poppy was cooking when he came in, humming under her breath. Diana clapped her hands on the high chair, laughing deeply about something.
Francis entered the house, feeling sick. He hoped she wouldn't notice him come in. He didn't want to have to talk to her before leaving. The thought made it worse.
“Daddy’s coming home soon,” he would hear her coo to Diana. “Daddy’s coming home and we’re going to talk. Aren’t you excited?”
He said nothing, going upstairs to pack. After he finished, he looked around with a saddened expression, leaving his cologne on the bedside table for her. He went back downstairs, holding the case close to his chest.
Poppy was standing in the line of sight from the doorway, but her back was to him. She held Diana in her arms and she was hugging the baby tightly, humming under her breath.
He watched her longingly before turning away and silently heading out. Thinking of his shirts that he left for her.
