She answered on the second ring. “Hi, Jillian. You home yet?”

“Just got in. Listen, I have a question. Is there something wrong with Tom’s phone?”

“Why?” she said.

I explained about the unreturned calls.

She said, “Maybe he didn’t take his phone with him, or forgot his charger.”

“Take it with him where?” Even though I couldn’t remember much from our last talk, I was certain he’d never mentioned a trip.

“He called me a couple days ago, asked me to handle any jobs or clients. Said he had to go away for a few days.”

“Oh.” A quiet “oh,” a small word that failed to hide the surprise and disappointment I felt that he hadn’t shared his travel plans with me.

Kara must have picked up on the emotion because she quickly said, “I got the feeling it was a last-minute thing, and he didn’t offer me any explanation. He sounded rushed or distracted or… something.”

“Oh,” I repeated. The worry was back. If there was one thing I’d learned since my husband’s death two years ago, it was to rely on my instincts. I knew Tom. I trusted him. Something was definitely wrong.

“You’re sure he’s not back in town?” I said.

“I’m sure. He’d call to find out about any new customers, Jillian,” she said. “I expect we’ll hear from him soon.”

“Maybe I’m overreacting,” I said, “but I’m concerned. What if he never got out his front door?” Thoughts of my husband’s collapse right here in this house, his instant death from a massive heart attack, flashed through my mind.

“Really? You’re jumping to worst-case scenarios?” I could picture her lovely, indulgent smile, so like her father’s.

“Maybe, but—”

“Okay,” she said in a take-charge tone. “Clearly you’re beyond stressed about this. Did you try his landline?”