Abby tried to smile with confidence, hoping Mary wouldn’t ask more. “I’ve got to get back to work.” Abby gently lifted Mary’s hand from her arm.
“Look, Abby, I know something’s wrong. And I know you need someone to talk to.” She paused as she sat at the table and picked up her hamburger. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready to talk, won’t you?”
Abby pushed away from the table and set the rest of her lunch back in the refrigerator. “I’m sorry I lied to you. Please don’t be angry.” She flashed an apologetic smile before walking out the door.
Abby was able to get through the final hour of her shift without Mary confronting her, and was grateful when she was able to go home. As she pulled into the garage, her gaze was drawn to the conspicuously empty spot where Eric usually parked his Jeep. She got out of the minivan, closed the door, and walked over to Eric’s tool bench, looking at his neatly lined-up tools.
She shook her head in disbelief that Eric was gone. After all they had been through, she’d believed they no longer kept secrets from each other. All she could do was hope he would somehow contact her and let her know he was okay. Even more, she hoped he would come home.
As Abby walked into the empty house, she remembered Tim’s missing file. It also occurred to her that she might find some clue, some answer, among Eric’s things in the office. She was glad her shift had been so short today—it gave her some extra time before her girls got out of school. She went directly down the hall to the office where Eric had lately spent so much time. Pausing in the open doorway, she pictured the last time Eric had sat at the desk.
It had been his last night at home. He’d gone straight from his place at the dinner table into the office. Later that evening, after Abby had put the girls to bed, she had come back downstairs to find the door to the office closed, and no noise coming from inside. She had knocked quietly and he had invited her in, then she had walked over to him and knelt on the floor next to his chair, stroking his back as he looked down at her. He had smiled at her, looking more tired than Abby could remember seeing him.
Now she slowly made her way to the desk chair and brushed her fingers against the back of the seat, imagining Eric sitting there. After a moment she looked around, feeling foolish for her actions. No one was there of course, and she pulled out the large leather chair and settled into it. She ran her hands along the armrests, getting used to the feel of the chair. Abby hadn’t spent much time using the office—it was usually Eric’s domain.
Stroking the highly polished wood of the desktop, a dark mahogany, she thought about all the time Eric had sat in front of this desk. It had been an expensive purchase, but that was before all their medical bills had piled up. Eric had always been proud of this desk.
Her gaze ran over the items Eric had considered important enough to occupy the top of his immaculate desk. Smiling, she looked at a smaller version of the family photo that was hanging in the entry hall. In the opposite corner was the phone and answering machine, but her eye was drawn to the large monitor set in the center of the desk.
Abby wasn’t super comfortable with the computer—she’d always left that to Eric. Though she realized she might have to eventually attempt to search things on the computer, for now she wanted to stick to familiar things, things she could actually hold in her hands.
Leaning back in the chair, she looked at the desk, not sure where to start. There were three drawers on either side and one in the middle.
Before opening any of them Abby looked around again, hopeful Eric would suddenly appear and tell her it had all been a bad joke. Frowning at her wishful thinking, she yanked open the drawer directly above her knees. Though she hadn’t been expecting to find anything important, she was disappointed that all she found were neatly lined-up pencils and pens, a stapler, Scotch tape, stamps, and address labels. They were all carefully arranged in an organizer, the paperclips and pushpins set in the little square sections. She pushed the drawer closed.
The top right-hand drawer was next, with a stack of folders piled one on top of another. She pulled the small stack out and spread it on the desk. Across the top of each was Eric’s distinctive printing listing the general contents of the folder.
She pulled the top folder closer and read Eric’s writing. It said “UNPAID BILLS.” She opened it and flipped through the pile of opened envelopes. Nothing out of the ordinary in there. She set them aside and moved on to the next folder. That one was marked “RECEIPTS.” She skimmed through them but didn’t find anything new. The last folder was marked “THINGS TO DO.” She opened it and saw it was an old list. She shoved the folders back into the drawer and slammed it closed.
Heaving a sigh of frustration, Abby stood and stretched the kinks out of her back, gazing out the window into the backyard. The swings stood empty and the grass needed mowing. Then, walking into the kitchen, she poured herself a large glass of ice water and brought it back into the office.
She sighed again as she reached for the next drawer on the right. It slid open easily, revealing Eric’s address book. She lifted out the brown leather book and sipped her water as she flipped through the first two pages. On the second page she saw a name she hadn’t seen in a while. Harry Breuner. Abby stared at the name for several moments, wondering if she should call Eric’s father. She knew the two of them hadn’t spoken in a long time. They had argued about something several years ago, something Eric had never shared with her, although she had her suspicions what it was about. Unresolved bitterness remained between them.
What if Eric contacted his father? Maybe he would know something about Eric’s whereabouts.
Tentatively, she lifted the phone, almost afraid to speak to Harry, upset it wasn’t under happier circumstances. Wanting to get it over with, she quickly punched in the number and listened as the phone rang several times. When she was about to hang up, a gruff voice answered, “Hello.”
Abby hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Harry?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
She gripped the phone tighter, her hands beginning to feel damp. “It’s Abby. Eric’s wife.”
The gruff voice softened. “Abby. It’s been a long time.”
“Yes, Harry. It has.” Another pause. “How have you been?”
“Not so good, if you really want to know.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She wondered what was happening in his life, but wasn’t able to deal with someone else’s problems just then.
“How’s that husband of yours treating you?”
“Um . . . fine. Just fine.” It was obvious Harry had no idea Eric was missing and she wasn’t sure she was ready to tell him yet.
“And how’re my two beautiful granddaughters?” he asked quietly.
Sadness filled her heart as she thought of how long it had been since Harry had seen Tiffany and Susannah. Her voice wavered slightly when she answered. “They’re fine. They love school and their friends.”
“So. Why are you calling after all this time, Abby?”
“I . . . I wanted to let you know you’ll be having another grandchild later this year.”
“Well, that’s wonderful.” He was quiet for a minute. “Will I be able to see this one?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” She decided right then that no matter what, she would make sure Harry had the opportunity to get to know his grandchildren.
“Well, that’s great. You have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you, Abby.” He cleared his throat. “Now, I’ve got to go, but we’ll talk another time, okay? You take care now, you hear?”
“Yes, I will. You too. Bye, Harry.”
Abby gently set the phone back in its cradle, disappointed the call hadn’t led anywhere, but warmed by the pleasure she’d heard in Harry’s voice. She tried to look at the positive side of her current situation. Perhaps it will be a step in helping Eric reconcile with his father.
She looked through the rest of Eric’s address book, but didn’t find anyone else to call. Lifting the cold glass of water, she pre
ssed the icy surface against her cheeks, trying to cool her warm skin, then she set the glass back on its coaster and reached for the bottom drawer. When she pulled, nothing happened. She gave it another yank, but it was locked. She swiveled the chair to the left and tried all three drawers there. They opened easily.
But now she was only interested in the contents of the locked drawer.
Chapter Seven
Abby had searched the office for a key. She’d found a small one, but it didn’t fit the lock. Frustrated, she’d tossed the key into the middle drawer, then leaned back in the chair and tried to think of another way to get the drawer open, preferably without causing too much damage.
In her mind’s eye she saw Eric’s organized tool bench. She went out to the garage and stood in front of the tool bench, her gaze darting from one tool to the next. None of them seemed suitable for the job at hand. She pulled open drawers until she found a group of small screwdrivers arranged by size, then grabbed the two smallest ones and brought them back into the office.
Inserting the smaller screwdriver into the lock, she wiggled it back and forth, but nothing happened. She tried the other screwdriver. No success. The scratches around the lock opening were still unnoticeable. She went back out to the garage to see what else she could find.
Scanning the items hanging on pegs, it took only a moment for her to notice the crowbar. She knew Eric would be angry if she damaged his desk. What can he expect, taking off the way he has? Tossing the useless screwdrivers onto the top of his workbench, she grabbed the crowbar and headed back into the house.
Jamming one end of the crowbar into the slight space between the side of the drawer and the desk, she pushed against the crowbar, grunting with effort. She had to stop and wipe the sweat from her face before continuing, but after another try the locked drawer finally budged, and Abby was able to push the crowbar in deeper before resuming her tug-of-war with the desk.
Pushing with all her strength, and sweating with effort, she rocked the crowbar back and forth, and when the drawer popped open, she had to catch herself on the desk chair to keep from toppling onto the floor. Steadying herself, she leaned in to look at the contents.
At first she didn’t see anything, but after closer examination she noticed a lone twenty-dollar bill tucked into one corner. She extracted it, then inspected it closely. It looked genuine. Shaking her head in confusion, she wondered why Eric would lock a single twenty-dollar bill in the desk drawer. She put it in her pocket and closed the drawer, no closer to answers than when she had begun.
Sinking onto the chair in exhaustion, she crossed her arms over her bulging middle, then hung her head in despair and let droplets of sweat drip down her forehead. The ringing of the phone brought her out of her dejection.
“Hello?” she answered wearily.
“Mrs. Breuner?”
“This is she.” She tried to sound cheerful.
“This is Sally Carter at Betterman Elementary.”
“Yes?”
“We have your daughter Tiffany here, and she’s not feeling well. Would you come pick her up, please?”
“Yes. I’ll be right over.”
Now what?
He watched the minivan back out of the driveway and turn the corner and wondered why the woman wasn’t at work. He’d been under the impression that no one would be home. Still, she was gone now, and it was his chance to do what he’d come to do. As he quietly shut the door to his dark blue sedan and strode confidently down the street, he knew he might only have a few minutes before she returned. He hoped she’d been in too much of a hurry to bother setting the burglar alarm. Glancing around once, he rang the front doorbell, then he tried the knob. He didn’t expect an answer and there wasn’t one, and of course the door was locked.
He walked purposefully away from the front door, pausing as he reached the driveway, then he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves. He tugged them on as he continued past the garage door and over to the back gate. The string hung limply and he pulled it taut. The gate gave way instantly. Gently closing it behind him, he looked around at the silent backyard.
Smirking, he noticed that the back lawn needed mowing. He touched the doorknob that led to the garage, then reached into his bag and pulled out his tools. After fiddling with the lock, he put the items back in the bag, then his fingers gripped the knob and he twisted it to the right. He smiled as the door opened smoothly, but started when he heard a bell tinkling nearby. Realizing it was just a cat, he glared at the animal as it rubbed against his legs. Pushing it roughly away with his foot, he almost laughed out loud as it mewed in protest.
After the brightness of the sun outside, the interior of the garage was near pitch black. He plunged in and was rewarded by tripping over something he couldn’t see. Catching his balance before hitting the floor, he stood in place until his eyes had adjusted sufficiently to the dim garage. He looked at the object near his feet to discover what had made him lose his footing and saw the cat’s litter box. Bits of kitty litter surrounded the box, and he momentarily panicked as he realized he didn’t know if the litter had been there before he kicked it or if the floor had been clean.
Swearing under his breath, he stood there for several seconds, undecided about what to do, then elected to deal with it after he had completed his errand. The door from the garage to the house was unlocked, and he let himself in. Smiling at how stupidly naïve some people were, nevertheless, he was relieved no alarms had gone off when he’d entered. Today’s my lucky day.
He had barely left the office when the doorbell rang. He froze, then thought he heard tapping on a far window. What if a neighbor had seen him? He panicked and decided he’d have to go in the upstairs rooms another day. The only good thing about this little visit was that he’d found a spare key to the house. He hustled back to the garage door, ducking low as he passed windows, then let himself into the garage, past the backyard, and out through the gate, watching the front yard until all was clear.
When Abby pulled up to the school just a few blocks from home, she could see children at recess, but as she walked to the doors of the office she saw Tiffany’s teacher, Mr. Phillips, walking toward her.
Other than at parent-teacher conference, she hadn’t really spoken with him. She knew he was single—Tiffany and her friends had mentioned that several times while giggling over him. Most of the third-grade girls had a crush on Mr. Phillips, and Abby could see why. If she were to guess his occupation she would think more in terms of model than elementary schoolteacher.
He held his hand out to Abby as he approached and she took it, feeling the strength in his grip. They stood near the office as they spoke.
“I understand Tiffany’s not feeling well,” Abby said.
“Yes.” A sympathetic smile curved his lips. “She complained of a stomachache and the nurse said she had a fever.”
Abby nodded as she listened. “Thank you for taking care of her.”
“No problem, Mrs. Breuner.”
“She’s in there?” Abby pointed toward the closed office door.
“Yes.” He held out some papers. “I brought some assignments for her to do if she feels better.”
“Thank you.”
Tiffany was sitting on a chair, her face flushed. She walked slowly over to her mother and put her arms around Abby’s waist. Abby knelt in front of her daughter and placed her hand against her forehead. It was warm. “Hi, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”
“Not good, Mom. Can I go home?”
“Of course. Let’s go home and tuck you into bed.”
Tiffany smiled faintly as she nodded.
Abby pulled the van into the garage and wearily climbed out, then walked around to the passenger side and helped Tiffany out. Tiffany leaned against her as they made their way to the house door. Something crunched under their feet as they crossed the garage, and Abby looked down to see Pumpkin’s kitty litter scattered across the floor. She shook her head in irritation. She ha
d swept up the same mess only the day before.
“Pumpkin’s getting messier and messier,” she said absently.
Tiffany only nodded.
After giving Tiffany a fever reducer and settling her in bed for a nap, Abby sat on the couch in the family room and thought how just twenty-four hours before she’d been waiting for Eric to come home so they could view the video of her ultrasound. She closed her eyes in disbelief at how things could change so drastically in such a short period.
She didn’t want to think about that for a while. Instead, she wanted to think of happy things. She walked over to the television and looked through the DVD’s in the cabinet, finding one from the previous Christmas.
Tears filled her eyes as she watched the video. Eric was stringing the lights onto the Christmas tree, with Tiffany and Susannah helping him. The camera had been set on a tripod so the whole family could be in the film.
Mesmerized, Abby stared at the scene unfolding before her. She watched herself walk over to Eric and saw him take a thinner Abby into his arms and give her a passionate kiss. The girls wrinkled their noses as they watched their parents’ display of affection.
They had been so happy that day, and she had believed they were happy now. She couldn’t understand why Eric would leave her like this.
Turning off the video, she thought about Eric’s selfish behavior and realized her jaw was clenched. Trying to turn her thoughts away from her husband, she decided to check on Tiffany. She tiptoed into her room and saw she had fallen asleep, her favorite doll laying on the pillow next to her. Abby’s heart brimmed with love at the sight of her daughter sleeping peacefully. She didn’t know what she would do if one of her children failed to come home like Eric had. The thought sent chills up her spine.
Bending over Tiffany’s sleeping form, Abby pressed her hand against her forehead and was relieved to find that the fever had vanished. She tucked the covers around her daughter’s chin and left the room, softly closing the door behind her.
No Way Out Page 5