Evidence of Life - By Barbara Taylor Sissel Page 0,13

the settlement money was missing, and Helix Belle had, in an effort to divert attention from themselves, accused Nick of embezzlement.

But he hadn’t been himself even after he was cleared, Abby thought. The day he and Lindsey had left, there had been that hurtful moment when she embraced him. “Don’t,” he had said.

“It isn’t Dad on that surveillance tape,” Jake said.

Abby wished she could be as certain.

They had looked at it a few days ago. Dennis had driven them to San Antonio and accompanied them into the D.A.’s office. The quality of the film was as poor as everyone had said. The images of the two men had been grainy and distorted, their movements jerky, like puppets on strings. The detective in charge of the case had pointed out that the fair-haired man on the left was the one they had tentatively identified as Adam. Abby had focused on the dark-haired man on the right. She’d asked to have the video replayed twice and watched the man’s gestures; she’d studied his posture, the tilt of his chin, convinced she would be able to identify whether or not it was Nick from these small details. But she had not been sure, not beyond the shadow of a doubt, and she’d felt sick inside. She’d felt as if she had failed Nick in a vital and substantial way. And not only Nick, but Jake, too.

“Mom?”

Abby looked up. “I’m sure you’re right, Jake. It’s not Dad. It couldn’t be.” She offered reassurance she didn’t feel, but Jake took it.

He propped himself on his elbow and said, “He risked everything when he took on that case, you know? He was like a man on fire. His partners would have cut him loose, if he’d lost. He said so himself.”

It was true. Nick had said that. Taking on contingency cases like Helix Belle was the same as gambling. You could lose as easily as you could win, and the loss might not be limited to money. It might cost an attorney his reputation, his profession. Abby didn’t like gambling. Nick knew that; he chafed against her more cautious nature. But there were their children to care for, always their children who had to be considered. That’s what she pointed out to him. That was the authority she invoked.

Jake said, “I asked him once how come he did it, how come he took that case when he never did anything that crazy before, not with his work.”

“What did he say?”

“That you can wait too long to figure out what really matters in your life.”

Abby tried to sort that out, to make it fit with what she knew about Nick or what she thought she knew.

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” Jake was as mystified as she was.

“You didn’t ask him?”

“Why? He just would have started preaching about law school like he always does. How should I know? He’s your husband.”

Jake made it sound as if he blamed her, Abby thought. For what? Marrying Nick? For failing to convince him that Jake’s refusal to attend law school wasn’t the end of the world? She considered telling Jake that her and Nick’s harshest arguments were about him and Lindsey, but she didn’t want to go into it. Abby hugged her elbows. She felt as though the boundaries that defined their roles, hers as the parent and Jake’s as the child, were already disintegrating, and it dismayed her.

Jake flipped onto his belly. “I’m really tired. If I’m driving back to College Station tomorrow, I better get some sleep.”

* * *

But the following morning when they said goodbye, it didn’t look to Abby as if he’d slept much at all. He tossed his gear into the backseat of his Mustang. It was vintage, an original 1965 model that he and Nick had painstakingly restored. They’d only finished the project last year, and Abby was still sorry it was over, despite having to fight the grease and the constant sound of tinkering at all hours. She’d loved seeing their heads bent under the hood so close they were almost touching. The occasional rumbles of laughter, even the shouted curses had pleased her.

“I don’t want to go,” Jake said when he straightened, and Abby was unhinged at the look on his face. She saw the child he’d been, helpless and bewildered beyond explanation.

She said, “I know,” and stopped to find her composure, “but you heard Sheriff Henderson; he’s not giving up. The search just isn’t official anymore. We have to