“What do you mean? I’m the one who brought this to your attention.” Eric looked at the people in the area. Everyone suddenly seemed suspicious.
“We have some information you might be interested in,” Franklin said.
Adrenaline rushed through Eric’s body. “What do you know?”
“It’s your turn first,” Franklin said, his voice calm.
“I have some of the stolen money, but I didn’t take it. Now tell me what you know.”
He paused before speaking. “People are keeping tabs on your family. Apparently someone is offering these people reward money for information about your whereabouts. We aren’t sure who is doing this, but we’re trying to track them down to question them.”
“Are you sure? That’s crazy.” Eric was so taken aback that it failed to register that the FBI knew who his family was—which meant they knew who he was.
“We thought so too. But there it is.”
“Does this back up my story at all? That I’m innocent?”
“Well, there is the small matter of your possession of stolen funds. What are we going to do about that, Mr. Breuner?”
Chills ran up Abby’s spine as she stared at the anonymous note. What kind of people is Eric dealing with? Frightened on his behalf, she wondered if she should be frightened for herself and her children. What package are they talking about? Do they mean the money? What will happen if I don’t give it to them? I don’t want to do something Eric wouldn’t want me to do.
As she considered those questions, she cleaned up the glass, then searched Eric’s Jeep. She didn’t find anything unusual, but just as she was finishing up, her elderly neighbor, Mrs. Johansen, hurried toward her.
“Abby,” she breathed. “I’ve called the police and I believe they’re on their way.”
“What?” Abby’s brows creased with new worry. What if the police make me show them the note? What will they say?
“Yes,” Mrs. Johansen said with a nod. “I was just out watering my roses when I noticed a man pull this Jeep up to your house. When he got out, I knew it wasn’t Eric, and I was worried someone might have stolen your car.” She frowned. “He looked really shifty—as if he was hoping no one would notice him. He was too tall to be Eric, and he acted quite suspicious, slinking about the vehicle and whatnot. I thought I’d let you know.” Sincere concern filled Mrs. Johansen’s eyes. “What’s going on over here anyway? I haven’t seen Eric come home in days and you seemed to run off pretty quickly the other day. And a few days ago I thought I saw another man go in your backyard. I went over there and rang the doorbell and tapped on a window, but no one answered, and I couldn’t see if he’d gone in or not . . .”
Shocked to know that someone had actually seen a man go into her backyard, Abby’s heart pounded. I knew someone had been here. Even so, I don’t want the world to know the deep trouble Eric is in.
Wanting to assuage her neighbor’s fears about the safety of their street—she knew it was only her house the man had been interested in—Abby explained that things were okay, but that her husband was out of town and they’d had some problems with mysterious phone calls and that she suspected a break-in. Mrs. Johansen was just vowing to watch Abby’s house during the day when the police pulled up.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” an officer began after he and his partner got out of the car. Then recognition lit his face.
“Yes,” Abby responded, upset to have her fears verified by Mrs. Johansen. “You were here the other day when I called about a break-in, and now I have more evidence that someone was here. Do you suppose I could arrange to have the police patrol the neighborhood until we figure things out?” Though she had no intention of sharing her concerns about Eric’s possible involvement in a serious crime, she had to think about the safety of herself and her girls.
The officer smiled apologetically and started to explain that he had to follow police procedure.
His partner interrupted him. “Ma’am, we don’t have the resources to have a car here twenty-four hours a day, but we can have an officer patrol the neighborhood at night, and we can get your statement so someone can get going on this case.” He frowned at his partner, then nodded for Abby to go ahead with the details.
After Abby had finished explaining about the break-in and how the Jeep had shown up—leaving out any mention of the note—the officers left and Abby walked Mrs. Johansen home. As they stepped onto the older woman’s porch, Mrs. Johansen turned and firmly said, “Abby, I certainly hope that you’ll be changing your locks.”
Abby nodded, but before she could say anything, Mrs. Johansen added, “You should change them to high-security ones, the kind with keypads instead of keyholes that can be compromised. I know an installer who has wonderful options. I’ll call him for you and give him your number.” Before Abby could protest, she added, “Young lady, you have little girls to protect, and with your husband gone, well . . .” She paused. “I’d like to help you pay for it too. I know raising a family is expensive.” Mrs. Johansen smiled. “Now you just get home and change that alarm on your house and wait for the call. I won’t hear another word of disagreement.”
Abby’s eyes filled with tears and she hugged her neighbor, beyond grateful to feel like someone was on her side for a change, then she headed home and pulled out the instruction manual for the burglar alarm. A short time later she’d changed the code to the year of their wedding anniversary. It would be easy to remember, and maybe if Eric came home he could still get in by guessing it.
As Abby punched in the new code, a conversation she’d recently had with Eric came to mind. A couple of weeks before, he’d suddenly insisted on showing her how to program the alarm system. After having her try it, he’d become serious and turned to Abby’s, taking hold of her shoulders. “Listen. If you ever feel scared, I want you to change the code, okay?”
His tone of voice had frightened her. “Eric, what are you talking about? Have there been break-ins in our neighborhood? What’s going on?”
Suddenly relaxing and taking his hands from her shoulders, he grinned. “I just want to make sure you know how to operate this thing. All right?”
“Okay.” Abby had forgotten about his behavior, having decided he’d just been acting overdramatic. But she now realized he had anticipated what had been around the corner. But if he had known something might be coming, why hadn’t he warned me directly?
At the last thought, Abby wanted to scream in exasperation and fury. It was unfair of Eric to put her through this. She didn’t know what was happening or how to help him.
Mrs. Johansen was true to her word—Abby received a phone call from the installer and he was able to come right over and install new locks on all the doors.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When her daughters got home from school Abby asked them about their day, then led them into the kitchen for an after-school snack.
“It was fun, and I told Mrs. Thompson all about the carnival,” Susannah said.
“When I told Mr. Phillips I saw him there, he said it couldn’t have been him,” Tiffany piped in, grabbing a handful of cookies and carrying them over to the table.
Abby stopped in her tracks as her discomfort concerning Tiffany’s teacher intensified. “What did you say then, Tiff?” she asked carefully.
“Nothing. The bell rang and I had to sit in my seat. But I thought it was weird.” She frowned as she took a bite of a cookie.
“I’m almost positive it was him,” Abby murmured.
“It was him, Mom,” Tiffany said. “I think I know what my teacher looks like.” She paused, then added, “Mr. Phillips wanted to know if we had seen Daddy yet.”
Abby’s eyebrows went up, wondering what his interest in Eric was. “And what did you tell him?”
“I told him no,” Tiffany said.
Abby smiled. “All right, then. Let’s get started on homework.”
While the girls were working on their assignments, Abby began mixing a batch of cookies. The doorbell
sounded, and before Abby could stop her, Tiffany bolted for the door. As she hurried after her, she heard commotion coming from the entry, then she heard a familiar voice. Anxiety swept over her, and a moment later she watched Barbara Kincaid enter the room.
“Mom? What are you doing here?” Abby managed to say.
“Is that all I get from you? Aren’t you happy to see me, dear?”
“Mom! Mom! Look who’s here. It’s Grandma,” Susannah shouted, making Abby’s nerves tingle.
“Yes, I see that,” Abby said to her daughter. Then she looked at her mother. “How nice to see you, Mom.” She forced a pleasant smile on her face. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“No. I decided last night. I thought you could use some company for a while, what with Eric missing and everything.” She looked pointedly at Abby’s expanded girth. “And I only live up in Sacramento. It’s only an hour away.”
“How thoughtful,” Abby said, swallowing hard. “What about your job?”
“Oh, I took a few days of vacation time.”
“I see,” Abby said, then turned to her older daughter. “Take Grandma into your room, Tiffany. Strip your bed and bring your sheets down to the laundry room.”
“Oh, Abby, don’t make a fuss. I’ll take care of it,” Barbara said. Then she followed the girls upstairs.
What on earth possessed Mother to come here? I don’t need this now.
Forcing her negative train of thought to stop, Abby gazed at the staircase where her mother had gone. I want to have a good relationship with her. I do. Then and there, she resolved to make an effort to get along. Things went so well with Jennifer, maybe things will be as positive with Mom as well.
Abby heard her mother talking to Tiffany and Susannah as they came down the stairs and went into the laundry room. The washer started up a moment later. Pleased that her mother was taking the initiative to help out, Abby’s hopes were further raised that this might actually be a pleasant visit, but that illusion was swiftly put to rest as the girls went outside to play.
“Abby, I spoke to Jennifer and she told me Eric still has a drug problem,” Barbara said, sitting in a kitchen chair. “When are you going to face that?”
Feeling totally betrayed by her younger sister, Abby was too astonished to speak for several moments. Finally she said, “Mother, I know drugs are not the cause of his disappearance.” As she said it, she suddenly knew the words were true. But she couldn’t ponder the feeling as her mother sat before her—her mere presence challenging Abby’s feelings.
Skepticism clear on her face, Barbara shook her head. “When are you going to face up to the reality, dear? Your husband is an addict.”
Abby couldn’t believe this. “Look, if your purpose in coming here is to try to convince me what a bad person Eric is, you might as well go home.” Abby’s heart pounded at the confrontational words she’d blurted.
Barbara’s mouth hung open in shock. “What a way to speak to your mother. Well, I guess if I’m not welcome here, I’ll go tell my granddaughters good-bye.” She stood and walked toward the sliding glass door.
Closing her eyes, Abby thought how happy her girls had been to see their grandmother. With Eric’s mother gone, Barbara was the only grandmother they had. “Wait, Mom,” Abby said, opening her eyes.
Barbara turned toward her.
“Please, can’t we try to have a pleasant visit? The girls are excited to have you here. Let’s not talk about Eric, okay?”
Smiling in surrender, Barbara said, “Okay. I’ll try.” She came back to the chair and sat down. “Now tell me, how have you been feeling?”
“Pretty well. I did have a few contractions yesterday, but I haven’t had any since.”
Her mother came to Abby’s side and began rubbing her back. “Oh, my dear. I hope everything’s going well in your pregnancy?”
Abby was surprised at how her mother’s loving touch almost made her feel like a little girl again. “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate your concern.”
“Let me know how I can help and I’ll do what I can.”
Abby smiled, an unexpected feeling of warmth in her heart. “Thank you, Mom. You don’t know what that means to me.”
That evening, after everyone else had gone to bed, Abby called Jennifer.
“Why did you tell Mom about Eric’s drug relapse?”
“What? How do you know that?” Jennifer asked in surprise.
“Guess who showed up today?”
“No. Are you serious? I can’t believe Mom would just show up.”
“Well, she did. And she told me you told her about Eric.” Abby allowed her tone of voice to reveal her displeasure.
“Oh, Abby. I’m sorry. I should never have said anything to her.” Jennifer sounded truly sorry.
“Then why did you? You know how she feels about Eric.” Abby was bewildered by what her sister had done.
“Really, I don’t know what came over me.” Jennifer paused. “How did things go with her today otherwise?”
Abby smiled despite herself. “Not bad, actually.”
“Well, see? Maybe I was inspired to tell her. It got her to come see you, didn’t it?”
“Nice try, but I don’t think so. I feel really betrayed by this. How am I ever going to trust you?” Abby paused, giving herself a chance to let the anger subside.
“I give you my word. I will never again divulge to anyone anything you tell me in confidence. Okay?”
“Is there anything else I should know about? Anything else you shared?” Abby tried to keep her annoyance in check. “Did you tell her about that picture?”
“No. Honestly, no. I only told her about Eric’s relapse. And for the life of me, I don’t know why I did. Can you ever forgive me?”
As Abby listened to the sorrow in her sister’s voice, she knew Jennifer hadn’t meant to hurt her or cause her any more difficulties. “Yes. Of course I forgive you.” She sighed.
“Good,” Jennifer said with obvious relief. “Now, tell me what’s been happening.”
A summer pregnancy was new for Abby—Tiffany and Susannah had both been born in the early spring. Consequently, she didn’t have maternity clothes suitable for hot weather. In this part of California, the San Joaquin Valley, summer came early and lasted about five months. Abby wasn’t looking forward to being pregnant during all that heat, and she knew long-sleeved maternity blouses were out of the question.
With seventeen weeks to go in her pregnancy, she already felt overheated. Barbara had insisted Abby take some time to go shopping, and had also insisted on providing the funds to do so. In spite of her embarrassment at accepting the money, Abby was grateful for her mother’s willingness to help. That was how she found herself at the mall shopping for a few summer maternity outfits.
Assuming she might not be able to afford any more outfits after this, she wanted to choose carefully. Like most pregnant women, by the time the baby was born she would be sick of every one of her maternity outfits. She wanted to find some she liked in the hope she would enjoy them to the end.
After looking at the maternity clothes in each of the department stores, she made her selections. Feeling pleased with her shopping, she paid for her merchandise and headed to the car.
Glancing at her watch, she was surprised to see she had been shopping for nearly two hours. She popped open the back of the van and placed her items inside. Shutting it firmly, she heard the sound of a car stopping behind her.
“Ma’am? Abby Breuner?”
Abby turned to see who was calling her and saw a flower delivery van blocking her vehicle. “Yes, I’m Abby Breuner,” she said, puzzled.
The man seemed uncomfortable. “Delivering flowers in a parking lot is a first for me, but these are for you.” He held a bouquet of a dozen long-stemmed pink roses.
She took the flowers. “Who are these from?”
He shrugged. “There’s a card.”
She found the card and began opening it as the man got back in his van. “Wait,” Abby said.
“Yeah?”
Abby handed him money for a tip. “Please, when were these flowers ordered?”
He pocketed the money and shrugged. “I don’t know when they were ordered, but I know it was a rush.”
“How did you know where to find me? I mean, this is a first for me, too.”
He seemed like he was in a hurry to get going to his next delivery. “Some guy said where you were parked and gave the license plate number, and there was a description of you.”
Abby’s heart pounded. “Did you see the man who ordered the flowers?”
“Look, lady, I got a lot of deliveries to get to.” He started the engine.
“Please. Can’t you tell me anything?”
“I told you all I know.” He put his van in gear and drove away.
Once he was out of sight, Abby finished opening the card. It read, Happy Anniversary. My love, Eric. Abby stared at the card. It wasn’t Eric’s writing. But, she realized with a stab of pain, it was their anniversary. Their eleventh. She assumed the florist had filled out the card according to Eric’s instructions. Eric knew pink roses were her favorite.
Climbing into the minivan and carefully setting the flowers on the floor beside her seat, Abby wondered how the deliveryman knew how to find her.
Eric must have been watching me. Shocked at the realization, she considered the implications. Was he watching me the whole time I was shopping? A combination of joy and sadness coursed through her.
Then it occurred to her that Eric could still be nearby. Frantically glancing around the parking lot, she tried to see if any of the men in the area looked like him. None did. Then, pulling out of her parking space, she drove around the parking lot, searching for him. After thirty minutes she gave up and drove home.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Can I help you?” Abby asked the large man standing at her door.
“My name is Agent Franklin, ma’am. I’m from the FBI.” He held out his identification.
Abby examined it, having no idea what to look for but trying to stall to give her heart time to slow its erratic beating. She handed the ID back with shaking hands.
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