Come Home: a novel Part 13

"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 when 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 gla.s.ses, 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 gla.s.s 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 gla.s.ses.

"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."

"n.o.body 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 G.o.d'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 impa.s.se.

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 a.n.a.lysis?"

"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 c.o.c.ked 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."

"No, I will. You've done enough today."

"Thanks." Sam flashed her a tired smile, then turned to go.

"Love you, too," Jill called after him, listening to the sound of his footfalls disappearing. She didn't like the distant look in his eyes, one she'd never seen before, and she could feel a new rift between them, as if suddenly they were on two separate ice floes, drifting apart on a vast and frigid sea.

Jill, I love you, so much, you're my mom.

Jill got up and hurried into the kitchen.

Chapter Eighteen.

Jill crossed to the coffeemaker and popped in a pod, then set a mug underneath and hit BREW. She couldn't ignore the sensation that Abby was in trouble. Abby's drinking worried her, and it was possible that she was pa.s.sed out in a club or an alley somewhere.

Jill picked up the phone and checked her messages, but Abby still hadn't called her back, so she called her again and left another message, saying the same thing. On impulse, Jill called the University of Pennsylvania Hospital in Philly, transferred to the emergency room, and asked for Abby Skyler or a Jane Doe with Abby's age and description. No luck. Meanwhile, the coffee had brewed, and Jill slid it out, took a hot sip, then called Temple and Hahnemann hospitals, but Abby hadn't been at either of their ERs or admitted.

Jill took the mug back to the laptop and moved the mouse. There was nothing more she could do for Abby right now, so she told herself to be patient. She stared at the screen for a moment, feeling the weight of Sam's words and wondering if she'd been giving short shrift to Megan. Katie had said almost the same thing, and Jill was beginning to sense a consensus. She'd have to make sure to take care of Megan, too, and even that seemed a familiar balancing act, from her days as a mom of three.