He pondered her words, mildly consoled. “So what am I supposed to tell my kids?”
“Why do you need to tell them anything? I just thought you might want to talk to Greg. If there’s any chance at all that Jill did decide to see him in Kansas City, maybe it would be”––she shrugged––“a lead. Or at least a place to start.”
“I guess it’s better than what we have now. Which is pretty much nothing.”
“If Katie doesn’t know Jill’s password I wonder if the police can somehow get into her Facebook account.”
“They made copies of our hard drive at home. And I signed something for them to get into her computer at school. You’d think they would have checked it out already.” He had talked to Carol once, but hadn’t thought to ask Jill’s principal if the police had actually confiscated her work computer or copied the hard drive like they’d done with their home computer.
A chilling thought came to him, and he dared to voice it. “Do you think the police could track if there’s been any activity on Jill’s laptop?”
“I don’t know. They’ve surely checked the obvious things already. Her credit cards, phone records.” Shelley tilted her head. “You don’t really think she just––disappeared . . . of her own free will, I mean?”
“Do you? It seems like you knew her better than I ever did.”
“Stop it, Mitch. That’s not true. Wives share things with girlfriends sometimes that husbands don’t necessarily need to know.”
“You don’t think husbands need to know when their wives are seeing old boyfriends?” He didn’t even attempt to keep the bitter incredulity from his voice.
“That’s not fair, Mitch. Jill was not seeing him. He contacted her. She didn’t start it. It was one lunch invitation––between friends. And I would almost swear that she declined. So please don’t jump to conclusions.” She put her head in her hands with a sigh. “I never should have said anything.”
He forced himself to calm down. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I’m just exhausted. And worried sick. I’m glad you told me. I need to know everything I possibly can if I’m going to find her. I’m sorry I got so upset. Please don’t hold anything back.”
She sighed again and Mitch steeled himself.
“Okay,” she said. “Then maybe there are a couple of other things I should tell you.”
Chapter 10
“Mitch, Jill loves you to pieces. You’ve got to believe that.” Shelley’s forehead furrowed and she didn’t seem able to meet his gaze.
Mitch rubbed circles on the speckled countertop, trying to brace himself for what she might reveal next.
“I think she held a lot back from you because she wasn’t sure how you would react. Or maybe she was still trying to wrap her mind around everything with Katie going to college––”
“But she talked to me about that. We talked. I know she was––” He grasped for a word, anger roiling inside him. How dare Shelley Austin insinuate that there were things Jill would confide in a friend and hide from him. He measured his next words. “I know Jill was almost in mourning over Katie leaving. Believe me, she talked about that plenty.”
“Did she mention that she was afraid you two would grow apart now that the kids are gone? That she was afraid you wouldn’t find her interesting anymore?”
“What?” Where was this coming from? “That’s ridiculous! She’s the most interesting woman I know.”
Shelley held up a hand. “I know. That’s what I told her. But she was struggling. Kind of a midlife crisis, I think. Enough that she saw a counselor. But maybe she told you that . . .”
His heart sank. And he could see in Shelley’s eyes that she knew Jill hadn’t told him. Was she just patronizing him now? It didn’t matter. What mattered was that his wife had been seeing a counselor and he’d been completely unaware. Had she missed school for those appointments? How could he have been so blind? What kind of fool was he that he’d thought everything was fine between them? “I didn’t know. I guess I’m utterly clueless,” he finally said.
“No. Jill wanted it that way.”
He looked at her askance. “She wanted me utterly clueless?”
Shelley gave a little laugh, and strangely, it offered him a tiny spark of hope.
“No,” she said. “She didn’t want you to know about the counselor. She knew it would only worry you. Make you think something was wrong between the two of you.”
“But obviously there was something wrong!”
“No. It wasn’t like that. She went because of her fears for the future. She felt like they were out of proportion to reality. It really didn’t have anything to do with you. That’s why she didn’t tell you.”
“It had everything to do with me! How could it not, if she was worried I wouldn’t find her attractive, that I––” He couldn’t even bring himself to voice Jill’s fears. Was it any wonder she’d had to see a counselor. Was he that uncaring that she hadn’t felt she could talk to him about these fears?
“Mitch, she just wanted some help getting through a rough patch. She knew how crazy things were with you at work, and she didn’t want to bother you with something she felt she should be able to get over by herself.”
“And of course, when an old boyfriend called, she was flattered.” He closed his eyes.
“I’m sure she was, but that’s not the point. Not at all. Jill just didn’t want to bother you with what she felt were her own issues. She knew if she told you, you’d take the blame––which you’re only proving by your reaction right now.” She gave a telling smile at that, but just as quickly, turned serious again. “And it wasn’t your fault.”
He wished he could believe her. But this wasn’t the time for self-flagellation. “The kids are waiting. And they’ve got to be wondering what this”––he motioned between them––“is all about. I need to get back.”
“Of course.”
He slid off the kitchen stool and started for the back door. “I think I need to talk to Greg Hamaker––just for my own peace of mind.”
She nodded and followed him to the door. “Yes, I think you should.”
What on earth would he tell Evan and Katie? He didn’t want to plant even a hint of doubt in their minds about their mother. Even if those doubts had already crept into his own.
“I’m sorry, Mitch. I––should have said something earlier.”
“Yes. You should have.”
With one hand gripping the cold doorknob of her back door, Shelley stared at Mitch. His words––Yes, you should have––hit her squarely in the chest. Was he right? She’d thought she was helping Jill by keeping the confidence. Now she wasn’t so sure.
“I’m truly sorry, Mitch. I feel like a traitor to Jill, and––worse, to you. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but––”
“I’ve got to let Simonides know about Greg Hamaker. And I hope to heaven they don’t call off the search when they find out.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you see? This makes it look something was wrong in Paradise––like Jill might have had a reason to leave.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and turned away, dismissing her. But while he waited for the call to go through, he turned back. “Would you mind telling the kids I’m on my way? I’d like to get on the road right away.”
“Mitch, please believe me when I tell you that Jill loves you more than anything in this world,” she said again, pleading, feeling responsible for the deep V that now seemed a permanent fixture between Mitch’s eyebrows. “There’s no way there was anything going on between her and Greg.”
Ignoring her, he turned away again and spoke into the phone.
Stinging from his tacit rebuke, she started across the narrow alleyway connecting their backyards. He’d made it clear that he was finished hearing anything she had to say.
She’d felt like a traitor––and an instrument of torture besides––sharing the things Jill had confided in her. But she would have fe
lt worse keeping quiet when Jill’s secrets might hold a clue to where she was now. Still, she believed what she’d told him. Jill would never have betrayed him.
She quickened her steps. Mitch’s kids were waiting. When she reached the Brannons’ back door, she turned to see Mitch still talking on the phone.
When he came in through the back door a few minutes later, she could almost see him put on a new demeanor the way he might pull on an itchy sweater. Mitch grabbed his jacket off the back of a kitchen chair. “Are you guys ready to go?”
In answer they moved toward the back door, eyeing Shelley as if wondering whether she was going with them. Or maybe wondering what she and Mitch had been talking about. But they said nothing, and she didn’t try to explain.
She slipped her hoodie off and hung it on the chair where Mitch’s jacket had been. Giving Katie a quick hug, she tried to make her voice matter-of-fact. “I’m going to stay here at the house in case your mom comes home or tries to call.”
She thought Katie looked relieved and wondered if it was because she wasn’t coming with them, or because someone would be at home for Jill.
They gathered jackets from the mudroom closet and water bottles from the fridge and filed out the door.
She stood in the door between the garage and the kitchen and waved, whispering a prayer to send them off. “Give them a miracle, God. Please let them find her.”
The garage door closed behind them, and Shelley retreated back into the kitchen. The house was bathed in silence. She realized that, except for stepping into the garage to feed TP when they were on vacation, she’d never been alone in Mitch and Jill’s house. It felt . . . odd. As if she were trespassing. She walked through the rooms, almost feeling Jill’s spirit in the very walls of the house. Her touch was everywhere. Along with visible reminders of the friendship she and Jill had shared all these years.
She walked down the hallway past Mitch’s study, to the bedrooms, peeking into each room, not even sure what she was looking for. Jill had made a halfhearted attempt to turn Evan’s room into an office for herself, but the floral overstuffed chair and the plastic basketball hoop hanging over the door made an eclectic potpourri of elementary school teacher and teenage boy.
Back in the dining room Shelley ran a hand across the antique sideboard she and Jill had refinished together back when crackle paint was all the rage. It looked outdated and too countrified for Shelley’s taste now, but when she’d said as much recently and suggested repainting the piece, Jill had feigned a gasp. “You had better not go all modern on me, Shelley Austin.”
She smiled at the memory and brushed a microscopic crumb off the sideboard. This was the “dresser” she and Jill had bought and wrestled into her old Escape at the antique shop they’d driven past on the way back from Kansas City. The day after Jill disappeared.
Was that only four days ago? Her throat clogged with tears. What would she do if her friend didn’t come back? She couldn’t imagine life without Jill next door. She lost her breath at the next thought that came.
If Jill was gone, would Mitch stay here, or would he move away?
Her sigh echoed through the empty rooms, but it failed to answer her question.
Chapter 11
“I win!” Shelley’s cheer rang false, yet Mitch silently thanked God that she was here with them, keeping Evan and Katie busy playing some card game. He sat in his easy chair, pretending to read the newspaper, but keeping a watchful eye on his kids, dreading what they might have to go through in the next hours and days.
He’d sometimes felt annoyed with Shelley Austin when she took Jill’s time or energy away from him. It was pure selfishness. Shelley was a great friend to Jill. The kind who always had Jill’s best interests at heart, and would have done anything for her. He made a mental note to be more appreciative of their friendship when this was all over.
The four of them had been huddled in the family room around the large flat-screen TV ever since he and the kids returned from a fruitless drive to Kansas City and back. While they were gone Shelley had baked––in their kitchen––making chocolate chip cookies from Jill’s recipe for Evan and Katie. The sweet smell wafted through the house––just the right touch, and true comfort food for his kids. And even though he had no appetite, he ate one of her cookies just to show his appreciation for her thoughtfulness.
Shelley’s news about Jill and Greg Hamaker was eating him alive. He’d relayed the disturbing information to Detective Simonides, along with the news that Jill had been seeing a counselor. He’d even driven by Hamaker’s office, a brokerage firm in Kansas City. But of course, it was closed for the Labor Day holiday. Even if it had been open, Mitch wouldn’t have confronted Hamaker while Evan and Katie were with him. He hoped his kids would never have to hear the man’s name.
He grabbed the remote and punched the volume down, leaving it just loud enough so they could hear if anything came over the news.
News had traveled quickly through town, and even before he and the kids returned, Shelley had fielded concerned neighbors and friends bearing casseroles. Now, the doorbell rang yet again, and without Mitch asking her to, Shelley jumped up to answer it.
He heard her making gracious excuses for him and the kids, and thank someone for an offering of food––no doubt another lasagna, or a chicken and rice casserole to add to the collection. He checked the cynical, ungrateful thought. It meant the world to him that so many had remembered them with food and phone calls and prayers. But it all had a much too funereal feel to it. And he was not ready to go there.
The front door closed, and he heard Shelley in the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and rearranging its contents to make room. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine it was an ordinary day and it was Jill in the kitchen, puttering and creating the homey sounds he’d too often taken for granted until now.
A minute later, when Shelley plopped down cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, he waited to catch her eye. “I’m going to go in the den and make some phone calls,” he said softly. “Do you mind getting the door if anyone else comes?”
“Of course. Go on. I’ve got it.”
“Thanks.” He started down the hallway, dreading the task he’d put off until the kids were occupied. TP gave a little whine and lumbered off the sofa, following after him. “No, boy. You stay.”
Shelley called the dog, and TP looked up at Mitch as if asking permission. “It’s okay, fella. Stay. Stay with Shelley.”
He mouthed his thanks to her and went down the hall to the den, closing the door behind him. He settled in his chair, grabbed a pencil from the Cardinals mug by the telephone, and punched in the number Detective Simonides had given him.
After being put on hold twice, he was finally connected to the detective.
He dispensed with niceties. “This is Mitch Brannon. Do you have any news for us?”
“I’m sorry. Nothing. I’ve gotta tell you, I’ve never had a case with so few clues.”
“Will they get some search dogs looking, or is that something I’d have to arrange privately?”
“We had a K-9 dog at the hotel the day her phone was found and turned up nothing. If we had something––anything to go on, we’d put together a K-9 team, but we have to have some kind of lead. We can’t just start from zero.”
“Can’t you just have them follow the routes she might have taken?” He knew he sounded as desperate as he felt.
“Mr. Brannon, the area between the hotel and your house covers hundreds of miles of Interstate and highways. Thousands if you consider all the city streets and back roads she could have taken, assuming she even headed that direction . . .” The detective’s voice trailed off, and Mitch could tell his patience was thinning.
“What about the counselor my wife was seeing? Were you able to talk to him?”
“Yes. We’ve spoken with him.” Simonides hesitated. “You realize there are confidentiality laws that preclude––”
“Yes, but surely they have
to make an exception for something like this. If someone is in danger . . .”
“It’s been more than six weeks since the counselor last saw your wife, but he did not believe there was anything about her emotional state that would have led her to do anything . . . rash. He felt she was mentally stable. That’s all I can say.”
Mitch’s mind reeled. He did triage on the barrage of questions from his mental list and asked the one that rose to the top. “Did you talk to Greg Hamaker?”
“Yes. But he didn’t have any new information. There’s nothing there.”
“Did he know Jill was missing?”
“Not until we told him.”
“Either that or he’s a good liar.”
Simonides cleared his throat. “Mr. Hamaker didn’t deny that he’d invited your wife to get together over coffee while she was in Kansas City for the conference. He said she first agreed to meet, but then she called him from the hotel and cancelled. I think he’s on the up-and-up. We can see the call to him in her phone’s history. Around noon, just like he said. He’s been cooperative––agreed to share the brief communication he had with her on Facebook, and there’s nothing there to indicate anything more than he told us. And his alibi checks out. He was in meetings in Kansas City shortly after he talked to Jill. But don’t worry, we’re keeping an eye on him.”
A rush of relief was quickly replaced by chagrin. Jill had canceled, yes, but she’d first agreed to meet with Greg. Why? Had she been looking to renew that friendship? That romance? Had he been so blind that he couldn’t see she was unhappy in their marriage?
No. He gripped the pencil so hard his knuckles went white. No, he had too many memories––recent memories––that supported his belief. They had a good marriage. No one could convince him otherwise. But it hurt that Jill had considered meeting Greg at all without telling him. He and Jill had some hard things to talk about when they found her.
He was almost afraid to ask his next question. “Does this change––the search. You’re not going to quit searching, are you . . . because of this?”
The Face of the Earth Page 8