As he waited in the coat closet, he replayed his decision to come. He’d been careful to make sure no one had followed him, and he knew he was taking a risk in coming here, but he needed to try to find the rest of the money one more time. Not only that, he was desperate to see his family, even if they couldn’t see him. If he had to go one more day without being near them, he didn’t know what he would do. The intensity of his desire made him fear he would do something foolish.
What do you call what you’re doing now?
He shook his head, unable to consider that. He had to be here, just to be close. As much as he wanted to speak to Abby, he knew if he did it would be too difficult for him to leave again—and if he stayed he was fairly certain the FBI would arrest him.
That was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.
A while later he heard Abby and her mother come back down the stairs and turn the television on. About an hour later they finally turned it off and headed upstairs.
He pulled down his old wool coat and folded it to make a pillow. Peace flooded his soul as he lay in his home. He felt safe there. Resting his head on the makeshift pillow, he allowed himself to drift off for a while.
Checking his watch, Eric decided the time was right to search the house for the money. He decided to start in the office, and if he didn’t find anything there, he’d go into the master bedroom.
Pressing his ear to the closet door and hearing nothing, he carefully twisted the knob. He peered out into the darkened entry hall, then opened the door enough to slide out. He shut the door as quietly as he had opened it and went to his office. After completing a thorough search and finding nothing, he tiptoed to the staircase and up the stairs. All was still. He reached the landing and immediately headed for the master bedroom. Pausing in the open doorway, he gazed at Abby as she slept. Love for his wife filled his heart as he walked toward the bed.
He stared down at her before gently stroking her cheek. She moaned in her sleep and pulled the covers higher. Fighting the urge to flee, he sat on the edge of the bed and leaned toward her, breathing in the fragrant scent of her hair.
After watching his wife’s peaceful face for a moment, his attention shifted to her swollen abdomen. He placed his hand there and soon felt kicking. Tears came to his eyes when he realized it was the first time he had felt his baby kick, and he wondered if Abby had found out if it would be a boy.
She began to stir and he quickly slid onto the floor and rolled under the bed as best he could. When she began quietly snoring, he stood and tiptoed toward the walk-in closet, then shut the door behind him. He felt along the top shelf until he found the flashlight that they kept there, and when he flicked the switch, he was rewarded with a bright glow. Shining it around the closet, he looked behind and under everything, but didn’t come across any cash.
While in the midst of quietly searching the closet, Eric heard Abby get up and walk across the floor. He immediately flicked off the light, then held his breath, and when he heard the bathroom door close, he set the flashlight back in its place and left the closet. Glancing toward the bathroom, he silently left the room, and after visiting Susannah’s room where both she and Tiffany were sleeping, he crept back down the stairs to check the alarm.
As he’d expected, Abby had set the alarm. He wondered if she’d changed the alarm code, considered trying it, then stopped himself. He had to assume she had. With a sigh, he resigned himself to spending the night on the floor of the coat closet.
Chapter Thirty
The ringing of the phone woke Eric, and he sat up in the closet, then pressed a button on his watch to light the face. It was eight o’clock. He stretched his arms and yawned, then carefully stood halfway up, working the kinks out of his legs.
He thought he heard someone coming down the stairs. Pressing his ear against the closet door, he listened to footsteps go past, but when he pictured his sweet Abby so close, he had to control the urge to fling the door open and take her into his arms. He knew if he made such a foolish error it would be impossible to leave, and then everything would fall apart.
What is Abby thinking after all this time? Has she gotten the notes? Did she find the rest of the promised money? And if she did, what must she be thinking?
He thought about how he had come into possession of the cash and silently cursed himself. Why couldn’t I just leave it alone?
Footsteps passing the closet door pulled him out of his musings, and he heard the beeping of the alarm. He hoped Abby was deactivating it so he could leave his confinement. When the footsteps left again, Eric peered out. On the count of three he ran for the front door, and just as voices sounded in the next room, he pulled the door shut behind him.
Tess peeked through her window as the large man approached her front door. All these strange goings-on had her a little spooked, and when he rang the bell she hesitated before finally opening the door. He looked official in the suit he wore and she stayed silent, waiting for him to explain what he wanted.
“My name is Agent Franklin,” he said before holding out a badge for her inspection. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right.”
“I’ve already spoken to Agent Webster,” she said.
Franklin looked genuinely puzzled. “What are you talking about, ma’am?”
“Don’t you people talk to each other?” Tess asked, annoyed she would have to explain everything again.
“I don’t know what you’re referring to, but wait here a minute please.” Franklin turned and walked to his car.
Tess could see him talking on his cell phone, and when he returned a few minutes later, she said, “Well? Did you talk to him?” She hoped she could get on with what she’d been doing.
“I’m afraid there’s been some kind of mistake, ma’am. We don’t have an Agent Webster working for the bureau in this area, and the only Agent Webster in the state has never heard of you.”
Alarm crept up Tess’s spine. “Then who have I been giving this information to?”
“What information have you been giving?” Franklin asked.
Tess peered at the man on her porch more closely. “How can I be sure you’re who you say you are?”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. “Call the Resident Agency Office if you’d like.”
She took the card from him. “Would you mind waiting here?” She locked the front door, then Googled the FBI’s website and found their number. She called that number instead of the one on Franklin’s card, and when the person she spoke to assured her that Agent Franklin was legitimate—even describing his appearance—she hung up, then went back to her front door and invited him inside.
He smiled graciously at her embarrassment and, as they sat down, again asked what she had told the “other” FBI agent.
“He wanted me to let him know whenever Abby Breuner left her house or if I ever saw Eric. He also asked me to talk to Abby and see what information I could get from her.”
“I see.” The look on his face seemed grave.
Tess suddenly felt terrible about what she’d done, and she hoped she hadn’t caused more trouble for Abby. They’d had such a good visit over lunch, even if it was under false pretenses, and she felt like a real friendship was beginning. She didn’t want to do anything to destroy it.
“What information did Mrs. Breuner give you that you passed on?”
“Nothing, really. She only told me that her husband is missing.” Tess sighed and put her head in her hands. “What should I do?”
“How do you contact this person?”
She looked up at Agent Franklin. “The first time I talked to him, he came by the house. But since then we’ve just communicated through email.”
“Do you still have those email messages?” Franklin asked.
“Yes,” Tess said, relieved she hadn’t deleted them.
“Please forward them to the email address on the card I gave you and let me know immediately if he contacts you again.”
Bar
bara finished cleaning the bathrooms and moved on to straighten up each room. She didn’t know how long it would be until Abby got back from her errands, and she wanted to be helpful, wanted her daughter to be glad she was there.
Tiffany and Susannah had gone to play with friends in the neighborhood, leaving Barbara with time on her hands. Starting in the living room, it took her only a few minutes to arrange the pillows on the couch and make everything look shipshape. Barbara stepped from the living room into the entry and glanced at the closet door. She opened the door and saw several coats lying on the floor.
That’s peculiar. She picked them up one by one and hung them on hangers, then shook her head at the wrinkles that clung to the fabric. Didn’t I teach you anything, Abby?
Once all the coats had been picked up, she stood back and admired her work. Nodding in self-satisfaction, her gaze fell to the floor and she noticed an object lying there.
Bending to pick it up, she examined the item. It was a key. I’ll give it to Abby later. She dropped it in her pocket.
Next, she went to the kitchen to scrub the cupboards and forgot all about the key, but later that evening, as she pulled on her nightgown, she remembered it. She picked up the pants she’d been wearing earlier and took the key out of the pocket. Once she finished her bedtime routine, she took the key and walked toward Abby’s room. The door was closed, and she heard soft snoring coming from inside.
I don’t want to wake her over this. She frowned at the key in her hand. I’ll give it to her in the morning.
Back in her room she set the key on the bedside table, then picked up her book. She read until her eyes wouldn’t stay open any longer, then absently set her book on top of the key.
The man in the dark blue shirt rolled the dice again, then grunted, frustrated that he was starting to lose. He’d been so certain things were going to start going his way now. He’d lost enough for ten people—wasn’t it his turn to be a winner?
Feeling like someone was watching him, he looked around the casino, but not seeing anyone particularly disturbing, he ignored the feeling and walked away from the table, deciding to try his luck at a game of poker. The game took all his concentration, and he didn’t notice the men watching him from the shadows.
“I found him.” A young man in khaki pants and a dress shirt pressed his cell phone to his ear.
“Is he winning?” the voice on the other end asked.
“No, it doesn’t look that way.” He paused, watching the other people in the casino. “But there’s some other guy here watching our man.”
“Do you think our accountant owes him money too? Does it look like one of our competitors?”
He peered at the man standing in the shadows. “I’ve never seen him before. What do you want me to do?”
“Make sure this other man sees the message that you’re going to deliver to our friend.”
“You got it, boss.” He shoved his phone into his back pocket before approaching the poker table and sliding into an empty seat. He smiled at the man in the blue shirt, who suddenly looked terrified.
The man standing in the shadows watched the interaction at the poker table with interest and waited to see what would happen. Khaki Pants and Blue Shirt seem to know each other. A moment later the man in the khaki pants stood and motioned for the man in the blue shirt to follow him. They walked outside where they seemed to be arguing. Khaki Pants grabbed Blue Shirt and shoved him against the wall. Then he quickly glanced around before twisting the smaller man’s arm in an unnatural way.
The man watching from the shadows cringed as the unlucky gambler cried out. He stepped away from the shadows and hurried away before anything else happened, suddenly frightened for his own safety.
Chapter Thirty-One
Eric thought about the promise he’d just made to Agent Franklin—turn the cash in his safe-deposit box over to Franklin as a show of good faith.
I might as well get this done. Eric reached into his pocket for the key to the safe-deposit box, but his acceptance of the situation turned to alarm when the key wasn’t there. He quickly searched all his pockets, with no success. I must have left it in my motel room. On the drive back he tried to calm himself with the thought that he must have taken it out of his pocket and put it in a drawer.
A short time later he was less calm. Where is it? Frantic, he yanked out each of the dresser drawers. It’s got to be here somewhere.
He stood next to the bed and let his stare probe the entire room, but he had looked everywhere.
Collapsing onto the bed, he forced himself to relax, if only for a minute. Then it came to him. The closet at his house. It had probably fallen out of his pocket when he had slept there.
That night Eric watched his family from the shadows. When Abby, her mother, and the girls headed upstairs to get ready for bed, Eric made his move. He sprinted to the sliding glass door and was both thankful to find it still unlocked and concerned at how dangerous that was. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he quietly went to the closet and opened the door.
The closet had been cleaned up. The coats he had used for his bed had been hung up. He paused, listening for the sound of someone’s approach. Soft voices floated his way from upstairs, but all was quiet where he was. He quickly searched the closet floor for the key. It wasn’t there.
I know I lost it here. Someone must have cleaned up and found it. Now what?
He searched the coat pockets hoping the key had been put in one of them. Nothing. Panic engulfed him as he considered the promise he’d made Agent Franklin to hand over the money. His heart beat erratically with anticipation as he considered one option.
He would search the master bedroom, and if that didn’t turn up the key, he would wake Abby.
Tess absently flipped through the television channels, thinking about her conversation with Agent Franklin. If Franklin is really an FBI agent, then who’s that guy I’ve been emailing, and why is he so interested in the Breuners? She thought about the questions he’d had concerning the family, and how she’d freely shared what she knew.
Rubbing her fingers against her forehead, she tried to figure out what was going on. She’d heard some rumors at work about missing money, and she wondered if Eric was involved with that. Is that why the FBI was asking questions? Has Eric committed a crime? The idea shocked her. To think, one of my own neighbors might be a criminal.
But what about Abby? She seemed so nice at lunch. I hope I’m wrong about Eric. Her thoughts went back to her first question: Who had sent that fake agent to get her to spy on the Breuners? She wracked her brain trying to figure out who might care about what her neighbors did.
Every time she thought about Abby, Tess was filled with guilt. Abby had never done anything to her, yet she may have inadvertently hurt her. She wondered if she should tell Abby about the imposter agent. She’ll hate me if I tell her I’ve been spying on her family. Besides, the real FBI is keeping an eye on her—I don’t want to get in the middle of that. The reasoning assuaged her guilt, but only a little.
“Good night, sweetheart,” Abby said as she tucked the blanket around Susannah. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Once Abby and her mother finished tucking the girls into bed, she turned to her mother. “Do you want to watch TV?”
“Sure.”
“Let’s watch one of those decorating shows. I’m not sure which ones are on tonight though.”
“I can tell you which ones are on tonight,” Barbara said as she led the way down the stairs and into the family room.
As Abby listened to her mother, she wondered if Barbara was lonely. I need to make more of an effort with her. Jennifer and I are probably all she has.
An hour later Abby found herself falling asleep on the couch. “Mom, I’m going up to bed. What about you?”
“Not yet. My favorite show is on in a while. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night,” she said as she went up to her room. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
&nbs
p; Eric sat on the closet floor, his back against the wall, and listened to the television. He wondered when Barbara was going to go upstairs. Abby had gone to bed over an hour before, and he wondered if Barbara was awake or if she’d fallen asleep on the couch.
I can’t take the chance she’ll see me. But he knew that he didn’t want to stay there all night again either. Counting on the TV to distract his mother-in-law, Eric slipped from his hiding place.
Pulse quickening as he approached his bedroom, he silently turned the knob and entered, the shut the door behind him. His gaze immediately went to his wife, who was sound asleep. He went to her bedside and stared down at her, wanting to touch her but not wanting to wake her yet. If he could find the key without her knowledge, that would be best. He knew it would be difficult to leave if Abby found him there.
He searched both nightstands, but came up empty-handed. Next he looked on the dressers and in the drawers. Again, nothing. As he gazed around the room, using the moon as his light source, he wondered where the key might be.
It could be anywhere. I have to get that money to show the FBI I mean what I say.
He stepped toward the bed, adrenaline pulsing through his veins. His hand reached toward Abby but froze when he heard one of the girls cry out. Abby stirred, and Eric rushed to conceal himself in their walk-in closet.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Abby rolled over, wakened by Susannah’s cry. Groaning, she pushed herself to a sitting position, then went to her daughter. “What’s wrong?”
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