CHAPTER18
Nick parked nextto Mary’s car in the driveway of Gillian’s house. He lifted Bailey out of her car seat and cradled her in his arms as he grabbed her small diaper bag from the hospital and headed up the ramp toward the front door. He couldn’t wait to see Gillian’s face when he walked in with Bailey.
She couldn’t leave. They belonged together. He knew that; he’d always known that. He hoped she saw that as well. She completed him, making him feel whole, making him feel like he could do anything, even be a great dad. He kissed Bailey’s soft pink cap as he rang the bell.
Mary opened the door, her eyes were red and swollen.
His heart skipped a beat. “What’s happened?”
“I came as soon as you called, but I was too late. Gillian’s gone.” She handed him the note. “Did you know she was going to leave?”
The accusation was heavy in her words. “I wasn’t sure,” he muttered. “I suspected, but I thought I’d have time to change her mind.” All the note said was ‘I’m sorry.’
He followed her into the house and to the den, feeling out of sorts and off-kilter. He wasn’t sure what he could say or do. The den was a mess, all her things were scattered around the room. She left in a hurry and without saying goodbye. The birds were still in their cage.“She didn’t take her birds?”
“I guess she’ll get them when she can, but I don’t know anything about taking care of birds.” She ripped the sheets and blankets off the bed. The bed he’d just slept in, holding Gillian through the night, making love to her, and falling for her all over again. He couldn’t have lost her again.
“I just can’t believe she’d leave without saying anything to us. Not even a phone call,” Mary muttered, the edge of anger entering her voice.
He held Bailey a little tighter. Trying to imagine if she left without saying goodbye. Bailey started to fuss. “Do you mind if I go to the kitchen to make some formula?”
“No, of course not. I’m sorry, Nick. Let me see that sweet baby of yours.” She dropped the sheets and approached, touching Bailey’s little hand. “So precious. Yes, let’s go make her a bottle.”
He handed her the diaper bag Tanya had given him and followed her into the kitchen. As she dug into the bag for the formula and a bottle, he saw a notepad and pen sitting on the desk. And then he saw the tote bag lying under it that Gillian had taken with them to the bank earlier.
He set the tote on the table and opened it. Both manila envelopes were still inside, along with all the cash. Coldness seeped through him. “You need to call the police.” Gillian wouldn’t have left without this.Not on her own.
Mary looked up at him, surprised, shaking the bottle in her hand. “What?”
Before he could explain, the doorbell rang.
“Hold that thought.” Mary put the bottle in the microwave, turned it on, then ran toward the door.
Nick closed the bag, then set it back under the desk as Sheriff Halloway walked into the kitchen. Dread tightened Nick’s chest.
Mary walked into the kitchen behind him, her gaze dropping to the bag. “Nick, the sheriff says Gillian made a 9-1-1 call that got disconnected from the house fifteen minutes ago. He’s here to check on her.”
The room tilted. Nick reached for the table.
“Is there anything you can tell us about what was going on with Gillian, and why she might have called 9-1-1?” Sheriff Halloway asked, his eyes narrowing as he studied him.
Bailey started to cry.
Mary quickly walked forward and took Bailey from him, got the bottle out of the microwave, and started feeding his baby. Nick watched her for a moment, then turned to the sheriff, realizing he had to tell them both about Paul.
“As Gillian and I were driving back from Atlanta, she got a call from her husband. He was being released from jail and wanted her to pick him up.”
“You said that on the phone, but I didn’t understand?” Mary said. “Why wouldn’t Gillian have told me Paul was in jail?”
“I don’t know, but Gillian hadn’t expected him to be released and didn’t know what to do. She was terrified of him.”
Mary’s face whitened, and she sat heavily in one of the barstools at the counter. “She didn’t tell me anything about that.”
“Was he abusive?” the sheriff asked.
“She didn’t say. I don’t think so. She’s been working with an FBI agent in D.C.”
The sheriff looked surprised. “What were the charges against her husband?”