Mitch knew exactly what his son meant. That the news media labeled Jill’s disappearance a “case” made it sound like they didn’t expect her to be found. Or to come home.
He ran a hand over two and a half days’ worth of stubble on his jaw. He’d never felt so helpless in his life. He felt torn in a thousand directions, needing to be there for Evan and Katie, who were devastated and in shock––like he was. But he also felt a need to ride herd on the authorities, who, in his opinion, had done far too much speculating and far too little actual searching for Jill. But his hands were tied. Marcus Simonides had warned him about “going vigilante” on him. Until the detective gave him the go-ahead, he wasn’t to take any action without talking to Missing Persons first. “I’ve had too many families organizing their own search parties and trampling evidence in the process,” the detective had told him. “If people want to help, they need to clear it with law enforcement first. This is what we do every day, Mr. Brannon, so I’m asking you to trust us and let us handle it.”
He stared at a stack of cards and notes on the coffee table––cards people had brought by along with a generous offering of casseroles and cakes. There was no mail delivery today because of the Labor Day holiday, but if this stack of cards was any indication, he expected a flood of envelopes in their mailbox tomorrow. He’d appreciated people’s thoughtfulness––until he opened the first envelope that contained a sympathy card! Thinking of you on the loss of your loved one. He’d immediately stuffed the card in the bottom of the garbage can in the garage before the kids could discover it. But that wasn’t the only one. At least half a dozen people had chosen cards obviously meant for the family of someone who’d died. Did people actually think Hallmark had made a card just for such an occasion when they saw one that read “the loss of your loved one”?
The thought made him feel petty and ungrateful. It was comforting to know that in the days since Jill had gone missing, so many people were praying for them. And for Jill.
He should probably turn off the TV for his kids’ sake. But he couldn’t. Instead, he leaned forward, praying for any morsel of hope the anchor could toss him. Sadly, he’d learned more from TV reporters than he had from the authorities who were supposedly looking for his wife.
“A spokesperson for the Missouri Highway Patrol says there is virtually no trail to follow in the disappearance of Jill Brannon,” the weekend news anchor said, wearing something a little too close to a smile for Mitch’s taste. “The third-grade teacher from Sylvia was last seen Friday at a Kansas City, Kansas, hotel where she had attended a conference. Authorities say Jill Brannon’s cell phone was used shortly after one p.m. Friday when she left a message for her husband. The phone was later discovered in the hotel’s parking garage, and according to information from the Missouri State Highway Patrol’s Missing Persons Unit, the trail goes cold from there.”
The scene on the television screen changed to a reporter with her back to the camera, holding a microphone up to a patrolman behind a messy desk. “Ordinarily in a case like this,” he said, “we’d have search parties out scouring the countryside, search-and-rescue dogs combing the scene. But after searching the hotel where the missing woman’s cell phone was discovered, we have virtually no idea of where to go from there. We’re essentially flying blind. There’s no lead on the vehicle, no cell phone GPS to track, none of the usual evidence. I can tell you, it’s a frustrating situation . . .”
The audio clipped off the patrolman’s words and cut back to the studio. The photo of Jill that Mitch had given local police––last year’s school photo––flashed on the screen to the anchor’s voiceover. “Authorities are asking anyone with information about Jill Brannon to contact the number that appears at the bottom of your screen.”
The anchor pivoted her chair to face another camera, smiled, and switched to a less somber tone for a story about a homeless woman caught camping out in empty lakeside homes and the angry Osage Beach homeowners who wanted to have her prosecuted. Mitch had trouble feeling much empathy. People needed to count their blessings. There were far worse things that could happen.
He put an arm around Evan, but he was all out of comforting words. Maybe it was his imagination, but every authority he’d spoken to over the past two days since Jill had vanished left him feeling that they suspected Jill had chosen to disappear. It helped somewhat that every person who actually knew Jill––knew their marriage, knew her love for her children, knew her passion for her career and her love for her third-graders––didn’t believe for a minute that Jill had walked out on him.
The weekend had passed in a blur of police interviews, and subsequent news reports. Mitch still had trouble believing they were real. They were about him. About them.
He stole a worried glance at Katie, curled in the corner of the overstuffed chair that was Jill’s favorite. TP curled at her feet on the ottoman, a place he would have been banished from if Jill were here. But Mitch wasn’t about to enforce that rule. Not now. Seeing his daughter’s beautiful face swollen and smudged with tears, he wondered when he’d ever again see the little-girl dimples that hid until she smiled.
Tuesday, September 7
On Tuesday morning, when a television reporter mentioned that Mitch had been questioned, Katie’s eyes grew wide. “Did they seriously think you had something to do with this, Dad?”
He should have been relieved that the authorities apparently had decided he couldn’t have been involved in Jill’s disappearance. But he was too stunned over the fact that there had been no leads in Jill’s case whatsoever. She’d seemingly disappeared without a trace . . . into thin air . . . off the face of the earth. Listening to the news reports was like a storm of clichés.
He grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. Evan and Katie didn’t protest. “We need to decide what . . . to do.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want you guys to miss any more school.”
They stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “We’re not going back, Dad.” Katie rose to her knees in the oversized chair. Beside her, TP’s ears pricked. “There’s no way I could go back! Not until we find Mom.”
“Then let’s find her.” He rose from the sofa and went for his car keys. He might be crazy, but he couldn’t sit around doing nothing.
“Where are we going?” Evan croaked, following him into the kitchen.
“I don’t know, but if I stay in this house for another second I’ll go stark raving mad. Shelley and I drove halfway to Kansas City . . . took the route we think Mom would have taken. But we didn’t go all the way there. Maybe we need to do that.”
Evan shrugged. “Beats sitting here. Let’s go.”
Katie appeared in the doorway. “Maybe I should stay here. In case Mom comes home. . . While we’re gone.”
“I don’t think––” He’d started to tell her that wasn’t going to happen, and hated the realization that he was beginning to believe that possibility more than he believed they would ever find Jill. But he couldn’t take away Katie’s hope. That wasn’t fair. “Maybe we could call Shelley,” he said. “We can leave a note, and let Mom know Shelley is home. But remember, Mom has our cell phone numbers. She’s going to call us if she can.”
“No, Dad,” Evan said. “She might not have the numbers. Not if she doesn’t have her phone. Everything’s in memory. Do you know my number without looking?”
He’d thought of that. And no, he couldn’t have called either of the kids without using his phone’s memory. It was a sobering thought.
But Jill knew their home phone number––unless she had a head injury, or some other trauma, and couldn’t even remember her own name. It was the stuff movies were made of. But when he started entertaining a host of even stranger scenarios, few of which had happy endings, he had to force the thoughts away.
After the barrage of calls from reporters and well-meaning friends when the news of Jill’s disappearance went public, he’d been tempted to unplug their home phone. But he didn’t. Already, only four days later,
the calls had dwindled to a trickle. Now he worried Jill’s story would be forgotten.
But Jill would have called home if she could. His kids knew that.
TP trotted into the kitchen and Katie knelt to hug his thick neck. Her eyes held a haunted look. “Call Shelley. I can’t stay here.”
Mitch fished his cell phone from his pocket and punched Shelley’s name––and realized he couldn’t even have called next door without that memory feature on his phone. Waiting for Shelley to answer, he tore off a sheet of paper from the magnetic notepad stuck to the fridge and slid it across the counter to Evan. “Write your phone numbers down for me . . . yours and Katie's.”
Shelley answered on the second ring. Mitch could tell by the way her voice lilted when she said, “Hello,” that she was hoping for good news. Oh, how he wished he could give her that gift.
“Hey, the kids and I are going to drive to Kansas City. See if we can spot anything. Are you going to be home for a few hours?”
“Of course. Do you want me to come over . . . in case she comes back while you’re gone?”
“No. Thanks, but you don’t need to do that. We’ll leave a note for her, and tell her to go over there if she comes home before we get back.” Shelley was still holding out hope, and that thought buoyed him. But he didn’t know how much longer he could go on acting as if he expected Jill to show up any minute. If that was going to happen, it would have happened by now. He tried to shut out the hopeless voice.
“Sure. I’ll be here. As long as you need me.”
“Thanks, Shelley.”
“Mitch––”
“Yes?” There was something in her voice that he couldn’t pin down. Something ominous.
“I think . . . Maybe we need to talk before you go. Just for a minute. There are some things I think . . . you need to know.”
He glanced at Evan and Katie, very aware of their eyes on him. “Can it wait?”
He heard her intake of breath, and the quick sigh that followed. “It might be nothing,” she said. “But . . . if you’re going to Kansas City, I think maybe I need to talk to you first.”
“Okay . . .” He turned away from his kids. “Can I come over now?”
“I’ll meet you at the back door.”
What was this about? He couldn’t imagine. He made excuses to the kids and went through the back door and across the yard, where Jill and Shelley had practically worn a path over the years.
Shelley was waiting on the back deck when Mitch arrived. She invited him in.
“Hey . . . What’s going on?”
“Mitch . . .” She looked at the floor, then pulled out a tall stool at the kitchen bar and sat down.
Her voice wavered, and that fact made Mitch steel himself. “What’s wrong, Shelley?”
“This is probably nothing. And Jill will never forgive me, but . . . I would feel awful if it did turn out to be significant.”
He waited, unable even to imagine what she might have been keeping from him all these hours.
Shelley seemed to be waiting for him to sit down too, so he pulled out a stool and perched beside her at the counter.
“A few weeks ago––maybe early July––Jill got a friend invite on Facebook from an old boyfriend. Greg somebody . . . ? She said he was the first boyfriend she’d ever had . . .”
“Greg Hamaker.”
“I don’t know if she ever told me his last name, but . . . well, she friended him. On Facebook.” She held up her hands, palms out. “There was nothing between them, Mitch. I’m sure of that. But she had a few conversations with him––only through Facebook. Just friendly chitchat.”
Mitch pulled out a bar stool and straddled it, trying not to look as stunned as he felt. Jill hadn’t said a word. She had dated Greg off and on through most of high school. Mitch had never met the guy, but he knew about him. Greg lived in Kansas now, was on his second marriage, and was “a total jerk” according to Jill. Though Mitch suspected she played up the jerk aspect for his sake. Jill wouldn’t have dated a total jerk for three years. Still, he and Jill never kept old relationships secret from each other. Never kept any secrets. At least that’s what he’d always thought.
Greg was only a high school fling. Maybe they’d seen each other once or twice her first semester of college, but never after he and Jill started dating. Still . . . Three years. That wasn’t something a woman took lightly.
In fact, Jill admitted once that she’d thought she would end up marrying Greg. “Until I met you,” she was always quick to add when the subject came up.
Shelley closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. It was obvious she had more to tell.
After a long minute of silence, he prodded her. “So what are you saying? What does this have to do with us going to Kansas City?”
“Apparently Greg was going to be in Kansas City this weekend. Had meetings near her hotel. When he found out Jill would be in town, he invited her to have lunch with him.”
That knocked the wind out of him. “Did––she go?”
Shelley shook her head. “No. At least I don’t think so. She said she wasn’t going to . . .”
“But you think she could have?” That didn’t even sound like his wife. “She considered it?”
“For a little bit. But . . . when she realized she wouldn’t have told you about it, she decided it wouldn’t be wise to go.”
“What do you mean she wouldn’t have told me about it?” He braced the ball of his foot hard on the lowest rung of the bar stool. It was an effort to keep his tone steady. He hated this feeling of Shelley holding these things over him.
“I just mean . . . She knew you wouldn’t want her to go, so she said she’d either have to tell you, or just not go. I’m almost positive she’d decided not to go.” She looked him in the eye as if willing him to believe her. “That’s why I didn’t say anything in the beginning.”
“So why are you telling me now? You must think there’s at least the possibility that she went.”
“I truly don’t think she would have met him without telling you, Mitch. But––well, what if I’m wrong? Maybe I should have said something before, but I just kept thinking she would show up any minute. I feel like a jerk betraying her confidence . . . But now . . . What if there is something to this?”
She found no sympathy in his eyes.
“Did she say where Greg lives now? He doesn’t live in Kansas City?”
“A suburb, I think. I’m not sure. It sounded like he was coming into town on business. From where, I don’t know. I found him on Facebook, but he has most of his info hidden. Do you know Jill’s Facebook password? You could see more information if you could log in to her account.”
“I don’t know anything about Facebook. Jill only got on there when the kids did. I don’t think she ever got on there unless she was seeing what the kids were up to.”
Shelley bit her lip and looked away.
“What the––” He shook his head. “Am I wrong? She did spend time on Facebook? What else don’t I know about my own wife?”
“No . . . It’s not like that, Mitch. But Jill did have quite a few friends on Facebook. I mean, she wasn’t just on there to creep on the kids. Do you think Katie might know her password?”
His mind was reeling. “I doubt it. But maybe we can figure it out.” He huffed in frustration. “This is the stuff we warn our teachers and students about. What was Jill thinking?”
“It’s just a tool, Mitch. Facebook is perfectly safe if you’re cautious.”
He inhaled and blew out a slow breath. “Do you think Jill and Greg were––” He scrubbed his face with his palms, unable to finish the sentence.
“No. Of course not. They were just friends. You know that. And old friends. I honestly don’t think she’d talked to him in years. At least she was surprised to hear from him––on Facebook, I mean. But surely you know women well enough to know that a first boyfriend––especially as long as Jill dated Greg––always holds a special place in a woman�
�s heart. But,” she added quickly, “Jill was––is––head over heels in love with you, Mitch. I have absolutely no doubt of that.”
He hadn’t missed Shelley speaking of Jill in past tense. He’d caught himself doing the same. It disturbed him deeply. And made him question his faith that God would take care of Jill. Now he questioned everything he’d thought about his marriage to Jill.
“Mitch . . .” Shelley put a hand on his arm as if she knew his thoughts. “Jill would never do anything to put your marriage in jeopardy. I know that. And I think Greg’s invitation was just . . . friendly. I don’t think he was coming on to her or anything.”
“But she was flattered.” It wasn’t a question.
“Of course she was. Any woman would be.”
“But why didn’t she tell me?”
“Because she knew it would make you question her love. Like you are right now. And if she wasn’t going to see him there was no reason to tell you and get you all stirred up.”
“She told you that?”
“Not in so many words. But I know Jill well enough to know that’s true. And for what it’s worth, when she was deciding if she should meet him”––she cringed as if she wished she hadn’t mentioned that again––“I reminded her of my story.” She looked at him like he should know what she was talking about.
“Which story is that?”
“Oh . . . Maybe you don’t know. Tom left me after connecting with an old girlfriend at a reunion.”
“Ohhh. No, I guess I didn’t know that.”
“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have expected you to. Anyway, Jill knew it wasn’t something to take lightly. That’s why I would almost swear that she didn’t meet him. But if there’s any chance . . . I thought I should mention it.”
“Yes. I’m glad you did.” He ran a hand over his face.
“Just so you know, Mitch, Jill didn’t keep secrets from you. In fact, the first time I ever confided in her, she wouldn’t let me continue until I understood that you and she were ‘one’ and that she wasn’t comfortable keeping anything from you.”
The Face of the Earth Page 7