“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said as he took the ID back, “but I have a few questions about your husband.”
“Do you want to come in?” Abby hoped he would refuse.
“Thank you.”
Leading the way to the living room, Abby’s thoughts spun wildly.
“Who was at the door, dear?” Barbara asked, coming into the living room. “Oh.”
Agent Franklin held out his hand to Abby’s mother. “I’m from the FBI, ma’am. I just have a few questions for Mrs. Breuner.”
“I’m Abby’s mother, Barbara Kincaid. Is it okay if I stay?” she asked, her curiosity obviously piqued.
“What about the girls?” Abby asked.
“Oh, they’re fine. They’re getting ready for bed. I told them I’d read them a story in a few minutes.”
“I’d like you to stay, Mrs. Kincaid,” Franklin said. “Perhaps you would have something to add.”
Abby didn’t want her mother there, but it looked like she wouldn’t have any say in the matter. They all took a seat, and Abby’s palms became damp as Agent Franklin turned to her.
“Mrs. Breuner, I’ve received two calls from your husband.”
Though stunned to hear this, Abby immediately felt better. If Eric was calling them, that seemed a good sign. “What did he say?”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose our conversation, but I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Okay.” She didn’t like the sound of that. She wanted to know what Eric had told this man.
“When did you last hear from your husband?” he asked.
“He left a message the day he disappeared.”
Franklin nodded. “What did your husband say in that message?”
“Just that he was sorry.”
Franklin’s eyebrows drew together. “Sorry about what?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Okay. Have you had any communication since then? Any at all?”
This was the part Abby was afraid of. She didn’t want to lie, but Eric had warned her not to tell anyone he had contacted her. “Today is our anniversary. I received a bouquet of flowers with a message from him telling me happy anniversary.”
“That’s true. I saw the note,” Barbara said.
Franklin looked up from his notebook and smiled briefly at Barbara. “Thank you.” He turned back to Abby. “Anything else?”
She shook her head, desperately hoping he couldn’t tell she was holding back information, and praying this would be done soon.
“Now, can you think of any reason why your husband would steal money from his employer?”
Abby didn’t like where this line of questioning was leading. She also didn’t like the fact that her mother was hearing these accusations against Eric from an FBI agent. “Look, Mr. Franklin, I’m sure my husband hasn’t done anything wrong. Let’s leave it at that.”
“What about his past drug use? It is in the past, right?”
“It most definitely is,” she said.
“Now, Abby. What about that relapse you told Jennifer about?” Barbara piped in.
At that moment Abby would have happily wrung her mother’s neck—if an FBI agent hadn’t been there to witness it. She glanced at Agent Franklin, who seemed quite interested in Barbara’s comments. “Mom, we’ve gone over this. That happened many years ago.”
“What is she talking about, Mrs. Breuner?” Franklin asked.
Furious at her mother for having mentioned it, Abby briefly explained what had happened. “It was a simple case of being with the wrong person at the wrong time. Eric has no intention of allowing that to happen again.”
Appearing satisfied with her response, he asked, “Do you have anything else you’d like to tell me?”
She thought about the threatening notes she’d received, but this didn’t feel like the time to tell him—not with her mother sitting there. Plus, if she told him about the notes, he would certainly dig deeper and she’d have to tell him about the money she’d found. That would only lead him to believe Eric was guilty of embezzlement. “No, I don’t have anything else to say.”
“All right then,” he said as he stood. “That’s all I have for now. I’ll let you know if I have any more questions.” He pulled a card from his pocket and held it out. “Give me a call if you hear from your husband.”
“Of course,” Abby said, taking the card from his hand.
As soon as she closed the door behind him, she turned to her mother. “Why did you have to mention Eric’s relapse?”
“What—did you want me to lie?” Barbara asked.
Pausing while she got her anger under control, Abby silently counted to ten before speaking. “Of course I don’t want you to lie. You didn’t have to say anything at all. He wasn’t even talking to you.”
“But if I didn’t say anything, that would be dishonesty by omission.” Barbara said this as if her reasoning were obvious.
“But that happened so long ago. Why do you think it’s relevant to what’s happening now?”
“Well, I don’t know,” she sputtered. “I’m going to see if the girls are ready for me to read to them.”
Abby watched her mother head for the stairs, her anger simmering. Why can’t she be on my side?
Absently looking through Eric’s book on disappearing, Abby waited for her mother to come back downstairs. Her anger had been building ever since her mother had gone to read the girls a story.
Why does she have to stick her nose in where it doesn’t belong? Why does she always believe she has a right to say whatever she wants without a thought to how it might affect others?
Abby’s thoughts had been going on this way for several minutes, causing her fury to grow to the point where she knew she would have to confront her mother. She tried to brace herself for the unpleasantness that was sure to follow, and as she imagined the potential fallout, she wondered if she should just keep her thoughts to herself. But she knew that wouldn’t happen. This moment had been building for years. After all the snide comments Barbara had made about Eric, Abby knew it was time to say something—no matter the consequence.
“I read them three stories and they still wanted more,” Barbara said with a laugh as she entered the family room, as if nothing unpleasant had happened that evening.
Abby set the book down next to her and pressed her lips together, reconsidering whether she should say anything to her mother.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Barbara said as she sat on the couch near Abby. “Are you still upset over that FBI visit?”
Taking a deep breath, Abby nodded. “I am upset, and I want to talk to you about it.”
Her mother immediately went on the defensive. “Abby, you can’t expect me to sit by and do nothing when I see things going on. I feel it’s my duty to speak up.”
Here we go. “What exactly do you feel the need to say?”
“That book, for example,” Barbara said, picking it up by the cover. “What do you hope to discover . . .”
Abby’s gaze followed her mother’s and she gasped. The photo of Eric with his other family had slipped out and landed on the couch cushions.
“What’s this?” Barbara asked, setting the book down and picking up the picture.
“Let me have that,” Abby said in alarm, holding out her hand.
Barbara studied the small photo. “What in the world?” She looked at Abby. “Is this Eric?”
Abby felt tears threaten, humiliated that her mother would discover anything about her personal struggles. Now Barbara not only knew that Eric was a drug user and accused of embezzlement, but that he possibly had a child with another woman as well. She took the picture from her mother’s hand. “Please let me have that.”
Her mother stared at her. “Abby, what is going on?”
Gripping her elbows, Abby shook her head.
“That was Eric, wasn’t it? And it looked like a recent picture of him. Has he been cheating on you?”
Abby could see her mother was start
ing to get worked up. “Mother, please don’t jump to conclusions. I’m trying not to and I’d appreciate it if you could wait to pass judgment until I have more information.”
With a look of incredulity, Barbara said, “Abby, what is wrong with you? I’ve heard of being in denial, but this is ridiculous. It’s time you faced the truth. You have the proof right there in your hand. Eric is being unfaithful. He’s stolen money—even the FBI thinks so—and it seems drugs aren’t only in his past. In fact, it seems that his infidelity isn’t short-term, either. It appears he’s been with that woman for quite some time, judging by the little boy in that picture.”
Hearing her mother voice all her own fears made Abby furious. “You don’t know that! You don’t know anything! There you sit, self-righteous and all-knowing, passing judgment on everyone around you. At least Jennifer gave Eric the benefit of the doubt. I’m afraid to tell you much of what’s going on for fear of your judgments.” Abby paused, watching the expression on her mother’s face, wondering if she’d gone too far. Her mother stared at her, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.
“Abby Kincaid! I can’t believe you just spoke to me that way!”
Abby’s eyes opened wider. “My name is Abby Breuner. I’m married to Eric Breuner and don’t you forget it!” Abby stormed out of the room and ran up to her bedroom, locking the door behind her. She resisted the urge to fling herself onto her bed like a teenager, and instead calmly walked over to the love seat and sank into the cushions, curling her feet beneath her.
She wondered why her mother had called her by her maiden name.
Has she never accepted Eric as my husband? Today is my anniversary, for heaven’s sake!
Chapter Twenty-Six
After she heard her mother come up the stairs and close her bedroom door, Abby went downstairs to retrieve the book and picture that had ignited their argument. As she walked into the family room, the phone rang. In contrast to the hard feelings she’d had with her mother, Abby was pleased to hear from her father-in-law. When she heard the concern in his voice, she decided it was only right to tell him about the embezzlement accusations against his son.
“Not again,” he said.
“What do you mean?” she asked, astonished to hear his response.
“I guess Eric never told you about that time he took some money from his employer.”
A sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. “No. This is the first I’ve heard of this. Please, tell me more.”
“This was back when he was just getting started using drugs. Of course, at the time I didn’t realize what was going on. He needed money and his job didn’t pay much, so one night he helped himself to the cash register. Fortunately for him, his boss was a kind man and he allowed Eric to work off the money he took. His boss also didn’t tell the police.”
“Oh my gosh, Harry! Do you really think he’s done it again?” The thought horrified her. Could Tim’s accusations be true?
“I surely hope not. What do the police say?”
Abby pictured Agent Franklin. “Well, I haven’t heard from the police, but an FBI agent came by earlier today. It was pretty unsettling. I have to tell you, though, I’m glad I didn’t know about Eric stealing before or I don’t know what I would’ve said.”
“Abby, you just worry about taking care of those beautiful children. Eric will have to deal with the consequences of his choices.”
“Thank you, Harry.”
When they hung up a few minutes later, Abby was grateful her daughters and mother had already gone to bed—she could only imagine the worry visible on her face. She slumped into the couch cushions and turned on the television, desperate to take her mind off her concerns. Just as she began drifting off to sleep, she was startled by knocking at the door.
An image of Agent Franklin standing on her porch, ready to search her house to find the stolen money filled her mind, and she cautiously approached the door. Peeking through the peephole, she frowned, then opened the door. “Mr. Phillips, I’ve decided not to have you tutor Tiffany.”
“I’m sorry to stop by so late, but that’s not why I’m here.”
Obviously something was bothering him, but Abby had no idea what it could be. “Okay.”
He sighed. “I just feel bad about what I’ve done and I felt I needed to apologize to you in person.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I was approached by someone and told there was a reward for information on your husband’s whereabouts. This person knew I taught Tiffany’s class and thought I might be able to get information from her. As far as I know it was legal. I just feel bad about it.”
Shaken to hear this, Abby stepped back. “What are you saying? Were you spying on my family?”
He looked at his feet, then back at Abby. “Not exactly. I just asked Tiffany questions from time to time. That sort of thing. But I feel bad because this person paid me to do it. It feels wrong to me, and I apologize.”
“That was you at the carnival then?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“Who was this person who paid you? Was it the FBI?”
“It wasn’t the FBI, but I don’t know that it’s my place to name names. I don’t want to make things worse than they already are.”
“Worse than they are? My husband’s been missing for two weeks. Today the FBI stopped by to question me. I think knowing who else is involved would be a good thing.” She paused. “Please, Mr. Phillips, if you tell me who is doing this, I think it would redeem you.”
He pulled out an envelope. “This might help.”
“What is it?” Abby asked as she took it from him.
“The money I was paid. It’s five hundred dollars.” He turned to walk to his car.
“Wait!” she called after him.
He turned back.
“Please! Tell me who paid you.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t.” He left before Abby could ask again.
Abby closed the door, her mind reeling.
Tiffany’s teacher was watching for Eric? Who else might be watching us?
She was suddenly suspicious of everyone she’d had contact with since Eric had disappeared. Then, noticing the card Agent Franklin had left, she wondered if she should call him and have him talk to Mr. Phillips about who was behind the spying.
But what if that just tips the FBI off that people are looking for Eric? Won’t that make him look guiltier?
Then she remembered Harry’s statement that Eric would have to deal with the consequences of his choices. The idea that people were watching her family was too eerie to leave alone, and she decided to call Agent Franklin in the morning to tell him about Mr. Phillips.
First thing the next morning Abby tried to call Agent Franklin, but when she got his voicemail she was relieved she could just leave a message rather than talking to him directly. She reported the situation with Mr. Phillips, glad she didn’t have to endure further questioning.
A short time later Abby heard her mother coming down the stairs and felt her body tense in preparation for the conversation that was sure to come. She had no idea what her mother might say or do, but she decided she would try to be nice.
“Good morning,” Abby said.
“Morning,” Barbara said, a small smile on her face.
“Did you sleep well?” Abby asked.
“No. As a matter of fact I didn’t. You?”
Abby sighed. “Not very well.”
Just then the girls came in and Abby knew she and her mother would have to discuss the issue another time.
Her daughters were in a year-round school, and today was their first day off-track. They spent the morning playing games with their grandmother and watching videos. After lunch Abby decided to look through Eric’s office again for clues as to what might be going on and who might be involved, and the first item she picked up was his address book.
A scrap of paper stuck in the middle caught her eye. “What’s this?” she said out loud as she scrutinized the text
written on the tiny piece of paper. 515 Buttercup Drive. The address was underlined twice with red ink.
The address was unfamiliar to Abby, and she had no idea where the piece of paper had come from or how long it had been there. Was it here when I looked through the address book before? She had no memory of seeing it.
She went to the garage to get the map from the minivan. She knew the Internet had better ways of showing directions, but she wasn’t comfortable enough with it yet and preferred the old paper method.
“Where are you going, Mom?” Susannah asked, jumping up from the floor where she had been watching a video.
“Out to the car for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
A moment later Abby had the map spread on the kitchen counter as she searched for the unfamiliar street name. It only took a moment to find it, but it was in a part of town she rarely visited.
“Susannah, would you get Tiffany? We need to go somewhere.”
“Where are we going?” Tiffany asked, coming down the stairs.
“On a little drive. Hurry, please.” She glanced toward the stairs. “Where’s your grandma?”
“Taking a nap.”
Perfect.
A few minutes later they were in the minivan headed for the mystery address. With the map in hand it didn’t take long to find the house, and Abby drove slowly by. The house didn’t look particularly special—one house among dozens within a neighborhood. There were no cars parked out front, but that didn’t mean no one was home.
Why was this address on a piece of paper in Eric’s address book? What’s the significance?
She didn’t want to approach the house with the girls in tow, so she decided to come back another time when they weren’t with her. She wanted to do it soon.
“Mom, is this where we’re going?” Susannah asked.
“I, uh, I just wanted to drive around here. Why don’t we stop by the store and get a treat?”
The girls shouted their enthusiasm.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
No Way Out Page 16