Chapter Seventeen
Owen sat in his office at the First Bank and Trust of Sparkleberry Hills sucking down his third cup of coffee.
He pushed back his chair and stood, stretching his muscles and fighting a yawn. He hadn’t slept worth a damn last night. Every time he’d rolled toward Jessica in his sleep, he would find her gone. Figuring she was in the office painting, he’d left her alone and attempted sleep once more.
A knock sounded on his door.
“Come in,” Owen called, smoothing his tie before returning to his seat.
Brenda, his secretary, stuck her head inside. “You have a visitor.”
Owen lifted an eyebrow. “A visitor?”
The secretary nodded. “A Mrs. Hawthorn. Says she’s your neighbor.”
“Send her in.” Owen couldn’t imagine what his casserole making neighbor could possibly want with him.
Marge Hawthorn bustled into the room wearing a bright yellow pantsuit. “I do apologize for barging in on you like this, but I felt it important enough to speak with you about in person.”
“No need for apologies,” Owen assured her while waving a hand toward the chair in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat.”
Closing the door behind her, Marge strode across the room and lowered her ample weight into the chair. “I appreciate you seeing me.”
“What can I do for you, Mrs. Hawthorn?”
She made a big show of smoothing her pants around her knees. “It’s about your wife.”
Owen’s stomach tightened with dread. “Is she alright? Has something happened?”
“Oh no, Mr. Nobles, I’m sure she’s fine. It’s just that…”
“Go on,” Owen urged, attempting to keep the impatience from his voice.
Marge blew out a breath and clasped her hands in her lap. “She’s been acting rather strange, lately.”
“Strange, as in?”
“Well, for starters, I see her outside at all times of the night. Usually staring at the abandoned house next door to you. Then last night around midnight, I noticed her standing in the street talking to Dale Schroder. Looked to me like they were arguing about something.”
Owen couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Surely to God, Jessica wasn’t sneaking out of the house at night! Furthermore, what was their busybody neighbor doing up at that time of night watching his wife’s every move?
He cleared his throat, wondering what to say to Marge without coming across as an asshole. “I appreciate you letting me know, Mrs. Hawthorn. Jessica doesn’t sleep very well since our son’s passing.”
Marge paled. “Oh dear. I am so sorry to hear that. I had no idea. Please accept my deepest sympathies.”
“Thank you,” Owen murmured, hating the pity he saw in Mrs. Hawthorn’s eyes. “We lost Jacob a little over three years ago.”
Marge blinked back tears. “I’m really sorry to have come here like this. Had I known…” She touched her throat and tried again. “My apologies.”
Gaining her feet, Marge’s mouth opened and closed without sound. She reached into her pants pocket and withdrew a handkerchief. “Have a nice day, Mr. Nobles.”
“You too, Mrs. Hawthorn.”
“Marge. Call me Marge.” She turned and left without another word.
It took Owen several minutes to calm down enough to pick up the phone. He quickly dialed Jessica’s cell only to reach her voicemail.
Gathering up the papers in front of him, Owen tucked them away in the top drawer of his desk and stood. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was a little before ten AM. After being up half the night, Jess was probably sleeping.
He’d find out soon enough.
* * * *
Owen pulled into his driveway, immediately noticing the garage door had been left open and Jessica’s SUV was nowhere in sight.
Leaving his own car running, he jumped out, unlocked the door to the house, and hurried inside.
The scent of perfume permeated the air, surprising him. Jess hadn’t worn perfume in as long as he could remember.
He approached the closet, noticing a pair of heels missing from her shoe rack. Jealousy ensued.
Jessica hadn’t wanted anything to do with him in years, yet she’d apparently dressed up, smelled like a million bucks, and wasn’t answering her phone.
Owen dug out his cell from the pocket of his pants and tried her again. Voicemail.
He pressed the end key and typed out a text. Tried calling a couple of times. Where are you?
No reply.
Had she met someone in town and was now in his arms?
Owen shook his head at the direction of his thoughts. Jessica would never cheat on him. Would she?