Come Home

by Lisa Scottoline

  “Okay, you can stay, but don’t make it a habit.”

  “Thanks. Courtney’s mom will take me to the meet, if you can bring my bag. It starts at noon, at the high school. Also, did you order that book for my report?”

  Jill had forgotten. “No, but I will. When do you need it by?”

  “Next Monday. Courtney orders online all the time, by herself, from her iPhone. Why can’t I do that?”

  “Because you don’t have an iPhone.”

  “That’s not funny, Mom.”

  Jill laughed to herself. “I’ll take care of it, honey.”

  “Thanks, I gotta go. Love you, too. Bye.”

  “See you tomorrow. Sleep tight. Love you.” Jill hung up, set the phone down, and petted Beef on the head, his brushy tail awag. Sam hadn’t greeted her, which wasn’t like him, and she owed him an apology. She got up and went into the family room, but he’d fallen asleep on the couch, his book open on his chest and his glasses pushed onto his head, so his hair puffed through the nosepiece. The TV played on low volume, and Jill thought of the scene that Abby had described, when she found William lying in bed with the TV playing.

  Dad never filled those scripts. They were planted there by the killer.

  Jill shuddered, going to the kitchen, where she slipped Beef a piece of pancake and put the rest in the fridge. She went out to the entrance hall, got the box with the laptop and files, brought everything back into the kitchen, set it on the island, then sat down and dug in.

  The manila folder on top was labeled MEDICAL INFO, and she opened it and skimmed through. It contained William’s lab reports for his bloodwork, and the results were normal. The only drugs William reported as taking regularly were Crestor, 10 mg, and Co Q 10, commonly taken with statins. There was no mention of any other prescription drugs, so either he wasn’t taking them or he was lying.

  Jill went through the rest of the files, determined they were nothing but old bills, so she closed the box and opened the laptop, plugging it into the island outlet and getting busy. An hour later, she’d gone through William’s laptop, but had found nothing unusual. His email was between his golf buddies, Abby, Victoria, Neil Straub, and various women, a sharing of blog posts, articles, YouTube links, and plans for golf dates or dinners. The email was more significant for what it didn’t contain rather than what it did. There was nothing about his business investments, which had to be what was paying for his house, lifestyle, and the girls.

  She navigated back to Quicken and skimmed the entries, which were equally mundane, and he still wasn’t paying his bills online, so she couldn’t connect to his bank files. It only took her twenty minutes to make a spreadsheet for Abby, because the household expenses were so routine, and there were no other financial files. She went back to the Programs files, but the laptop had only the programs the computer came with, and not much else.

  She eyed the laptop, in thought. It was almost generic, as if it had been sanitized or kept purposely clean. She went online, clicked on the online history, and it was empty, erased. She went to the deleted email file, and it had been completely emptied, too. So either William had cleaned out this laptop or someone had done it for him.

  Jill tried another tack. If she worked under Abby’s theory and assumed that somebody killed him, it had to be someone close to him, since there had been no sign of a struggle or break-in at the house. So all she had to do was figure out who was close to him. She went into My Computer, scanned the list of programs, and found My Pictures. She clicked to open the file, and there were three file icons, the oldest dating only from a year ago: London trip with girls, Victoria’s graduation weekend, Neil at Pebble Beach. She skipped to the folder with Neil, to see if he was a viable candidate for the man in the black ballcap, despite what Abby had said.

  Jill opened the pictures folder, and there were photos of William on a golf course with Neil, who was wearing a white Callaway ballcap and aviator sunglasses similar to those worn by the man in the black ballcap. The outfit obscured some of Neil’s features, but he had a winning smile and a strong, jutting chin and he was tall and well-built, about William’s height and weight. Jill clicked, and more of the file photos flashed by, but they were all taken outdoors and Neil wore sunglasses in every one, and so did William, in a few shots. She clicked a photo of them together and hit PRINT.

  She went online and Googled Neil Straub, but there were no listings. She checked him on Facebook, and he was on, but he’d blocked his profile except to his friends and had no picture. She logged onto www.whitepages.com for his address and plugged in New York, but no address came up, so it must have been unlisted. Neil Straub kept a low profile, and Jill wondered why.

  Just then her phone rang, and the screen flashed a number she didn’t recognize. It was almost eleven o’clock at night, and it could have been a patient. She answered the phone. “Jill Farrow.”

  “It’s Victoria. Let me speak to Abby.”

  “Victoria,” Jill repeated, startled at the sound of Victoria’s voice. She had heard it so many times before that she could’ve picked it out in a choir, and had, at so many school concerts, when Victoria was growing up. Victoria sang in a clear, strong alto, ringing with certainty, always pitch-perfect, more than a match for the showy top notes of the sopranos in the Stafford High Select Chorale, and her voice stood out so much for its clarity that the choir director had given Victoria a solo, even as a freshman, which had terrified the reserved young girl. That night, Victoria had called Jill from backstage, in a panic before she went on.

  Jill, I can’t do it, I’m going to forget the words. I can’t solo!

  Victoria, relax, you can do it, I know you can. Jill answered the call, sitting in the audience with Abby and Megan, at another concert that William had missed, supposedly working late.

  Where are you guys sitting? Are you in your regular seats?

  Yes, stage left, front row. We’ll be right in front of you. Just forget everything and sing, honey. Sing it out. Let everybody hear your voice. We know you’re wonderful, and it’s time to show everybody else.

  And after the concert, Victoria had come running, her eyes alive with pride and happiness, her arms reaching for Jill.

  I sang it to you, Jill. I sang it to you.

  “Jill, put Abby on,” Victoria was saying, her voice now so cold that the disconnect left Jill shaken.

  “First, Victoria, let me tell you how sorry I am about—”

  “Put Abby on, please. I need to speak with her.”

  Jill swallowed hard, recovering. “Listen, she’s not here, and I’m so sorry about your father’s death, and about what happened at the memorial service. I know this is an impossibly difficult time for you, and I wouldn’t have come if I had known—”

  “Save it, okay, Jill? I need to speak to Abby. I know she’s there. I also know you were at the house with her tonight, and I told her not to go home with you, but once again, she didn’t listen. Put her on, please.”

  “She’s not here, Victoria. She didn’t come home with me, after your call.” Jill moderated her tone, trying to open the door between them. She couldn’t accept that Victoria was a stranger, when she used to be her daughter.

  “You’re incredible, you know that? Let me talk to my sister, now. Stop lying for her.”

  “I’m not lying. I never lied to you, honey.” The term of endearment just slipped out of Jill’s mouth, and she knew it was the wrong thing to say before Victoria raised her voice.

  “Don’t call me honey! That works on Abby, but not on me. Put her on, now.”

  “I swear to you, Abby’s not here.” Jill’s thoughts shifted from Victoria to Abby, and she started to worry. “When did you see her last?”

  “None of your business. She’s probably at work, but they don’t pick up the phone.”

  “She’s not at work. She quit her job.”

  “She quit? How do you know?”

  “She told me. Could she be on a date? She might have been last night. She was drinking w
hen she came over.”

  “There’s a shocker,” Victoria said, dryly.

  “Do you know who that was? Was it Santos? Could they be back together?”

  “Again, how do you know about Santos? Boy, you don’t waste a minute, do you?” Victoria snorted. “My father just died, Jill. Can’t you hold your horses before you try to worm your way back into my family?”

  Jill didn’t want to fight. It was bad enough that she and Victoria were so far apart. “Do you have Santos’s phone number?”

  “No, he moved back to Brazil. She could have picked somebody up at random. She does that, you know. She goes out a lot, she likes to party.”

  Jill cringed. “On the night of her father’s memorial service? She didn’t seem like she was up for a party when I left her. Did you call any of her friends?”

  “I don’t even know her friends. They didn’t even care enough to show up at the memorial service.”

  “Are you going to the house to check on her?”

  “No, Jill. I’m not her mother, and here’s a news flash, neither are you. Good-bye.”

  “Wait, please call me if you hear from her, or ask her to call me.”

  “Like you care?”

  “I do, Victoria. I care about you both. Please, call me or—”

  Victoria hung up, leaving Jill holding the phone, and she pressed END. She scrolled back to her phone log, found Abby’s phone number, and pressed CALL. It rang and rang, then the voicemail came on, with Abby saying, “I’m having too much fun to take your call! Leave a message!” The beep sounded, and Jill said, “Abby, I’m worried about you. Please call me and let me know how you are. Victoria called, looking for you, too. Call me anytime, no matter how late. Love you.”

  Jill hung up, worrying. It seemed odd that Abby wasn’t home tonight. Abby would have no reason to go out, and she didn’t seem strong or stable enough to party. Jill thought of the padiddle. The man in the ballcap. The surveillance video. The sanitized laptop.

  Suddenly, Jill didn’t think it was completely outlandish that William had been murdered, then something else dawned on her, with a shock. If William had been murdered, Abby could be in danger, too. Abby lived in the same house as William. Maybe she had seen the killer and didn’t know it, or overheard something or saw something else, or maybe the killer merely thought she did. Whatever William was up to could destroy Abby, as well.

  I love you, Jill.

  Jill felt a bolt of fear at the notion. She couldn’t bear it if anything happened to Abby. She jumped up like a shot and went running to the family room.

  “Sam!” she called out, stricken.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jill sat in the chair across from Sam, having told him about the surveillance tape, the forged script, and the black SUV, at warp speed. Beef slept on the rug, his back legs twitching in a doggie dream, and the TV was playing a late-night talk show, on mute. Sam had calmed her down, listening carefully to her, looking over the top of his glasses, sitting forward on the couch, resting his arms on his thighs, his concern etched into every line on his face.

  Jill asked, “So what do you think, honey?”

  “I think a lot of things.” Sam raked a hand through his hair. A glass of soda with melted ice sat next to him on the oak end table. “I must admit, it does seem strange, especially that the prescribing doctor was dead.”

  “I know, right?” Jill felt a rush of validation, but an equal measure of worry for Abby.

  “It’s what William did to you, stealing the pads, so it suggests it was him filling the script.”

  “Why would he disguise himself?”

  “In case someone found out it was a phony script. To avoid prosecution.”

  “Right. I didn’t think of that.” Jill rubbed her face. “My brain must not be working, I keep thinking about Abby. Where could she be?”

  “Anywhere.” Sam’s expression cooled, and he slid off his glasses.

  “What if she’s in danger? Or trouble?”

  “I doubt that she is.” Sam checked his watch. “It’s one o’clock in the morning, and we know she likes to have a good time.”

  “She wasn’t having a good time last night, Sam. She was in pain.”

  “Okay, fair point.”

  “I wish she lived close, I could go check on her.” Jill tried to suppress her fears, but failed. “Anything could have happened to her, even in the house. She could have had too much to drink and fallen down the stairs. She’s so alone. She has no one looking out for her.”

  “She has a sister.”

  “Who’s in disapproval frenzy.”

  Sam lifted an eyebrow. “Maybe she deserves it.”

  “Nobody deserves it, Sam.”

  “People who drink and drive do.”

  “Don’t judge her, help her.”

  “Stop.” Sam put up both hands. “We are. I am. Could we change the subject and talk about you, instead of her? The black SUV following you, that concerns me. It might be nothing, but I’d prefer it if we played it safe.”

  “And did what?”

  “Stay out of this. Who knows what William got himself into?” Sam frowned, deeply. “I don’t think you should get further involved.”

  “I didn’t mean to, it’s just happening.”

  Sam pursed his lips. “The drugstore didn’t just happen, Jill.”

  “I didn’t expect the answer that I got.”

  “Understood. So stop, now. Tell the cops, and let them handle it.” Sam shook his head. “I don’t want you in harm’s way. Or Megan.”

  “I would never endanger Megan.”

  “You may have, already. You’re worried about Abby’s safety, what about hers or yours?” Sam gestured at the door. “You’re saying the SUV was on our street, for God’s sake.”

  “I didn’t realize it.” Jill felt defensive, her thoughts confused. “It might not have been the same car.”

  “Is it or isn’t it? Why take a chance? Do you really want to bring trouble to our door, and for what? It’s police business, not ours.” Sam raised his hands slowly, palms up. “Why am I so involved in your ex-husband’s life’s, all of a sudden? Why are you?”

  “I don’t think of it as his life, honey. I think of it as Abby’s life.”

  “It’s the same result, isn’t it? It’s all about him. You’re on his laptop, reading his email, trying to find his business partner. Until yesterday, your ex was dead to you. And now that he’s dead, he’s come back to life.”

  “Don’t be that way.” Jill could see he was hurt, even jealous, which was so unlike him. “I can’t just give up on Abby.”

  “She’s not yours to give up.”

  “It’s a figure of speech.”

  “No, it’s not.” Sam sighed heavily, and just like that, they were at an impasse.

  Jill looked around the family room, with its cheery, red-checked couch and white ginger lamps. She had picked out new furniture after she was divorced, and this house was smaller than the one she’d lived in with William and the girls. When Sam had moved in, they’d added a picture rail for his photographs and bookshelves for his collection of first editions. They’d worked together on the room, and they’d succeeded in making a new home and a new family, until now. The family room didn’t define the family anymore, and Jill knew they needed to find some middle ground.

  She met Sam’s eye. “You’re right about the police. I’ll call them tomorrow. I’ll tell them about the forged script and the SUV.”

  “Good, thanks.” Sam rose stiffly, offering his hand. “Why don’t we go to bed and hope that Abby’s back in the morning?”

  “Honestly, I know I won’t sleep. I can’t rest until I know everybody’s safe, all under one roof.”

  “She has a different roof, babe.” Sam let his hand drop to his side, and Jill wanted to clear the air, once and for all.

  “I know that, but it seems like a technicality, doesn’t it?”

  “No.”

  “Really?” Jill didn’t understand
. “What if she’s injured, Sam? Or missing? Doesn’t that change your analysis?”

  “No.” Sam stood firm, straightening up. “Did it occur to you that her disappearing act could be a bid for attention? It’s inconsiderate, at best. You’re back in her life, and she loves it. She loves you. You heard her last night.”

  “I love her, too. That’s real, honest emotion, not manipulation.”

  “Is it, on her part?” Sam cocked his head. “What was she thinking, inviting you to the memorial service and not telling her sister? She had to know there would be a scene.”

  “She didn’t expect that reaction.”

  “Come on, Jill. If you ask me, the kid’s acting out to keep you involved with her, taking your attention away from Megan and me.”

  “You? That’s crazy, Sam.”

  “No, it isn’t. I’m the guy who replaced her father. She was downright hostile to me last night.”

  “She was drunk, and she doesn’t even know you.”

  “Okay, enough. I’m out of gas. I’m going to bed. Wanna come?”

  “No, not just yet.” Jill felt torn, betwixt and between, again. She loved having Abby back in the fold. It made her feel whole again, filling the Abby-shaped hole in her heart, like the blank cutout from a sheet of cookie dough. “I’m not tired, and I just can’t go to sleep like nothing’s wrong.”

  “One last thing, babe. Ask yourself whether you’re getting involved with Abby because Megan’s pulling away.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “Doesn’t matter. What I said was, ask yourself.” Sam put his hands on his slim hips. “You don’t have to answer to me, you have to answer yourself. Maybe you’re getting what you want, in Abby. A kid to worry about, a kid to raise. Because Megan is growing up, the way she’s supposed to. Maybe you want to have a baby forever, to replace her.”

  Jill opened her mouth to object, then shut it. She knew he was wrong, but he had a working hypothesis, and she couldn’t talk him out of it, tonight.

  “Either way, I love you. Goodnight.” Sam leaned over, placed his hands on the arms of her chair, and gave her a dry kiss on the lips. But when he pulled away, he didn’t meet her eye, and his expression looked troubled. “I’ll let the dog out.”