Multiples Mystery. Alice Sharpe

Two days after the babies’ births? Olivia didn’t know what she’d expected to hear, but this wasn’t it. And since when had Anthony driven NASCAR? Her stomach did a backflip and she leaned against the marble counter for support.

      Zac said, “Did he say where he was going?”

      “Home,” the first young man said without hesitation. “He said his wife was having a baby and he had to get home.”

      “Did he say where home was?”

      “Uh, I don’t think so.”

      “Local,” the woman said. “He seemed very well-acquainted with Seattle.”

      “He went out every night he was here. Really nice guy. Really generous.”

      “Did he seem distracted or upset when he checked out?”

      They all looked at each other and shook their heads.

      “Think carefully,” Zac said after a moment. “Was he alone when he checked out?”

      “There were people in the lobby,” one girl said.

      “No there weren’t. It was mid-morning and all the business people had left,” the boy insisted.

      “No, there was a kind of jumpy guy over by the potted palms and a woman and two teenagers by the elevators.”

      The boy shrugged. “He had the valet bring his car around,” he volunteered.

      “What kind of car, do you remember? A van?” This from Olivia.

      “No, a sleek white coupe,” the girl said. “Joey, didn’t you take a picture of him with Alyssa and Tommy?”

      “Sure,” one of the boys said, and rummaged in a pocket. Out came the ubiquitous cell phone.

      Olivia’s gaze fastened on Anthony, smiling as usual. Green numerals flashing on the screen identified the date as the day before. It had been taken in front of the Inn and in the background she could make out what appeared to be her white car.

      She suddenly couldn’t bear to stand there a second longer. She turned on her heels, and heedless of the spasm of pain the jerky movement caused, kept on going toward the front door, quaking inside.

      She made it outside before she could go no further. Bending at the waist, she clasped her thighs. Tears dripped onto the pavement by her feet. A small knot of tourists looked away as though embarrassed for her.

      She couldn’t stop the tears. She could barely catch a breath. So, this is what it’s like when your life falls apart…

      She saw Zac’s shoes before she heard his voice. He put a warm hand on her back and she straightened up, leaning against him as he ushered her out of the traffic pattern.

      “Are you all right?”

      She said, “No,” but a new thought had just struck her.

      “Let me take you back to the hospital,” Zac murmured.

      “I want to go to Westerly.”

      “But—”

      “They said he went home.”

      “Olivia, please—”

      “Maybe, maybe he took my car home to get the van to come back for me and the babies. Maybe there’s some kind of explanation. I have to know. I have to go look. Either drive me there or I’ll drive myself.”

      “You’re in no shape—”

      She started walking toward his car, though she couldn’t feel her feet hit the pavement and could barely see through the tears and the burn of dissolving mascara.

      “Olivia—”

      She paused, turning to look back at him.

      “Wait up,” he said.