Actually that's not quite accurate. She'd clearly been home during the day. The bedroom closet was missing some of her clothes, the dresser drawers were wide-open, and two suitcases were missing from the closet.
Downstairs on the kitchen table were her wedding ring and her engagement ring, which had been my great-grandmother's. And a note, which said, "I trusted you. I loved you. And I still can't believe you would do this."
Shocked and frantic, I did what anybody would have done. I called her cell, but it was turned off. I left a message: "Tommie, I don't know what you think I did, but I didn't cheat on you. I SWEAR. Please call me so we can talk about this. I love you!"
I knew I couldn't call the police--it was far too soon, and in any case Tommie seemed to have left of her own volition. I called her office but it was after 6:00; everyone at Grand Valley had gone home for the weekend. So I called Damon at home.
"Hello?" I recognized the slight lilt of Elena's voice.
"Elena, hi, it's Jack Hitchcock, Tommie's husband."
"Oh yes Jack, how are you?"
"I, uh, fine, thank you. Could I talk to Damon for a minute please?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Jack, Damon's off on a trip. He left this afternoon; he called and said he'd be away probably for a couple of weeks."
A couple of weeks? I stared at the phone in horror. "Did he tell you where he was going? And whether Tommie was with him?"
"I know it was out to the West Coast at first, Los Angeles maybe? But I think he's going several places after that, I don't really know. He didn't mention anything about Tommie, but doesn't she usually go with him?"
"Uh, I guess so, most of the time. Listen, Elena--may I ask you please to have Damon call me as soon as you hear from him?"
"Sure, Jack--and I can give you his cell number too, if that would help."
I gratefully took down the number, said goodbye, and called Damon's cell. No answer. I left him a short message, just asking him to call me back.
And then I called Katie and Eric. They had no idea where Tommie was--neither of them had heard from her in more than a week. Katie must have heard from my voice how distraught I was--she asked what was going on and I told her: about the missing clothes, the rings, the note.
"Jack, we'll be right there," she said, and hung up the phone.
We sat in my living room and talked for an hour without making much progress.
"What's so crazy," I said, "is the way her feelings kept changing. We'd have these good talks, I'd reassure her and she seemed to feel better, to trust me--and then she'd come home from work a day or two later and everything would have turned to shit. She was cold and suspicious, and she wouldn't even talk to me!
"I have absolutely no idea what happened since last night, when she suggested that we would talk this weekend."
Thank God Katie and Eric seemed to believe me this time. Tommie had already told them the whole crazy story about my being drugged, but there wasn't any hint that they thought I was up to something. In the end we agreed that Katie would get in touch with Alice, in case she had heard from Tommie, and call me if there was any news.
As soon as they'd left I emailed David. "Call me as soon as you can--urgent, matter of life and death."
The phone rang around 12:30 in the morning, not that I was sleeping. "What's up, Jack--are you okay?"
I filled him in on the whole story: just the headlines first and then, when he asked, the back-story: all the suspicions and odd events of the past few months.
"It seems obvious now that somebody was setting me and Tommie up," I said. "And the fact that she kept feeling better, and then coming home from work and being upset, makes me pretty sure it had to be somebody at Grand Valley."
"Her boss?" he asked.
"I've thought about it, but I don't think so. He's always been very respectful of her; and he was the one who saved her when that asshole tried to drug her."
There was a silence, and I knew David was thinking.
"I don't have any good ideas right now," he said finally. "Let me think about it. I do have some, uh, resources that might be helpful in locating Tommie. It may or may not pan out. I'll give you a call if I hear anything, and you do likewise, okay?"
"Of course, David. Thanks."
"And listen, man. You've got to keep your head. Don't drive yourself crazy, don't do anything stupid. Be careful and smart, all right?"
We agreed we'd talk again in a couple of days, and got off the phone.
****************
I didn't sleep much that night, not surprisingly. I got up to check my email about five times, hoping against hope I'd hear from Tommie--or anybody.
The next afternoon, after calling Tommie's and Damon's cell phones again and leaving two more messages, I dragged myself to the supermarket--we were pretty much out of food and I knew I'd have to eat, even though I didn't have much interest in it.
I was waiting at a red light when I glanced at the driver in the car next to me--and Jesus Christ, it was Don fucking Harrington! He didn't notice me, and he probably wouldn't have recognized me anyway; we'd only met a couple of times.
Without hesitation I followed him, all the way across town, and watched as he parked in the lot of a bar named "Divine" and went inside. What do I do now, I thought--wait until he comes out and beat the shit out of him?
No, I said to myself, I can't. David's right: don't do anything crazy. If I land in jail it will only make things worse.
After half an hour of just sitting there I decided to go in and talk to him. I'd be calm but persistent.
Just inside the doorway of the bar I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. Finally I saw Harrington, sitting in a booth partway back with another man--a boyish-looking guy in leather pants and a muscle shirt. I gazed around the place and realized I was in what had to be a gay bar.
Okay, I said to myself--polite, be polite. And calm. I went over to Harrington's both and quietly said, "excuse me--you're Don Harrington, aren't you?"
