Page 53 of Don't Lie to Me
Not that it mattered, he never texted me back.
What in the hell was going on?
SEVENTEEN
I nervously entered Jack’s penthouse apartment the next morning. It had been a tough morning with Logan, me explaining to him why he couldn’t see Marcus again, and reassuring him several times that we could call him after work.
Then I received a text message from Marcus, thanking me again, for telling him about Logan. I flip-flopped between feeling happy that Logan finally got to meet his dad, and frustrated that Jack never called or replied to my messages from the day before.
“Jack?” I called out quietly as I shut his front door.
I was met with complete silence. I walked around his penthouse, looking for any sign that he was still at home, but found nothing. I frowned when I entered his bedroom and my heart started beating faster.
His bed was completely made. Jack never made his own bed, and if his bed was made, that meant that he didn’t come home the night before.
Worry filled me instantly. Something had to have kept him from calling me back, and something – or someone – kept him out all night long. I hated doubting him, especially after the prior weekend when he told me he loved me. Maybe it was too much for him? Maybe he realized that loving me was too dangerous or risky for him. Maybe he realized that feeling out of control around me wasn’t worth it anymore and he found someone else.
I sighed and closed the door to his bedroom. I would deal with my feelings about the cleanly made bed later, but I had to figure out where he was.
I chewed nervously on the outer corner of my thumbnail when I entered his office and sat down at his desk. I had bills to pay, but first I wanted to call Macy. Surely, she had heard from him.
I dialed her number from Jack’s office phone. She answered on the first ring, her voice breathless.
“Jack, thank god you’re finally calling. The phones have been ringing….”
“It’s me, Macy.”
“Emma? Have you talked to Jack today?” She sounded shocked and worried, and I immediately put all my doubts of Jack on hold.
“No. And I didn’t hear from him last night either.”
She gasped. “He didn’t check in with you after Marcus left? I would have thought he’d be babysitting your door waiting for him to leave.”
I shook my head and cringed when I chewed right through my thumbnail.
“Yeah, I know. When was the last time you talked to him?” I asked, although I had a fairly good idea, based on when I talked to him yesterday.
“He left work early yesterday, saying he had something come up, and I haven’t heard from him since. We have a board meeting in a few minutes and I needed him here like twenty minutes ago.”
I played with my hair and wrinkled my nose, trying to think of where he could possibly be. Who would he have met with yesterday, and who could it have been that he wouldn’t have told me or Macy about? And who could have kept him out all night? Instantly, I knew.
“Is Martin in?” I asked, light suddenly dawning on me.
Macy sighed. I could hear her frantically tapping her pencil against her desk through the phone line. “No, he’s not in either.”
“It’s okay. I think I know what they’re doing – can you transfer me to Martin’s private line?” If Jack wouldn’t answer me, maybe Martin would. At least now I had a pretty good idea of who they were helping.
Martin’s voicemail picked up immediately.
“Hey Mr. Crawlson. Macy and I haven’t heard from Jack since yesterday. I was just calling to make sure he’s okay and I have a pretty good idea that this has to deal with….B. Can you send me a text when you get a minute just so us girls stop worrying? Thanks.”
I didn’t know if Jack told Martin that I knew about his brother, but hopefully me using the nickname I remembered Jack using before when he called would be enough for Martin to understand.
I put my head in my hands and rested my elbows against Jack’s desk, sighing deeply. This wasn’t like him. There’s no way he would just skip work without letting anyone know. I don’t know if I had ever heard of him missing a day of work. And if something was going on with Brian, based on what Jack had told me about him before, then something could be really wrong.
Regardless, I still had work to do. I took a deep breath and began sorting through the pile of bills on Jack’s desk that needed to be paid. When I was done, I filed them away and tossed the envelopes into his garbage can.
I bent over to pick up a piece of crumpled paper and frowned. It wasn’t here yesterday when I vacuumed, so at some point Jack had come home. Slowly, I crumpled it and then gasped in surprise. It was a paper, bank withdrawal slip from the bank maintaining Jack’s personal account. Yesterday at four-thirty, based on the slip, he withdrew fifty thousand dollars. Cash.
