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He frowned at that question, knowing he didn't have a good answer. "Jack didn't tell you anything about problems he was having?"
"No. In fact, I asked him a few times if something was going on. It looked like he wanted to tell me something, but then he'd back off, make a joke, bring up some story from the past, flirt with the waitress. Same old Jack. We never got deep in the conversation, and then he took off. He said we should get together again, and he'd text me, but that didn't happen."
"Is anyone else in contact with Jack?"
Gary thought for a moment. "He said he was going to talk to Evan. I don't know if he did. He might still be in touch with Shelby, although he told me she was seeing someone, so maybe not. Do you want me to ask around?"
Before he could answer, Gary's phone rang. "It's Jessie. Hold on. What's up?" He got to his feet. "Really? She's coming tonight?" He listened for a moment. "Damn. Okay, it will be fine. Yes, I'll start cleaning. Don't worry." He lowered the phone. "My mother-in-law decided to spring a surprise visit on us. She arrives in two hours. I need to clean the house while Jessica heads to the grocery store after the library."
"That's my cue to leave."
"I hate to cut this short. Call me tomorrow and let me know what's happening. I am willing to help, Tyler. Jack is a lot of things, but he is our brother. I hope he's all right."
"I don't think he's all right, but I very much hope he's still alive."
Chapter Five
The storm started around five, and restless from the stressful day and now the weather, Rachel decided to make a homemade chicken noodle soup. By six, it was simmering, and her apartment was filled with warmth and the delicious smell of the savory soup as well as the garlic bread that was baking in the oven. She'd made way too much for herself, but she'd have plenty of leftovers for the weekend, which was the way she liked to cook.
Her weeks were so busy that she often had to grab food on the run, so it felt relaxing to make something hearty and nourishing. But not even the distraction of cooking had made her stop thinking about Jack. As she waited for her bread to bake, she walked over to the window of her sixth-floor apartment and saw that the rain had increased, with people rushing home, umbrellas threatening to fly away in the wind. It wasn't a particularly cold storm, but she couldn't help wondering if Jack was out there somewhere in the cold, maybe sheltering in a doorway or under a bridge.
She'd spoken to a police detective about Jack, relaying her concerns about his visit to the ER the night before and then what had happened at his apartment building. Detective Vincent Androtti had been interested in what she had to say, but he'd also been busy. He'd told her they would investigate, but she wasn't sure how fast or thorough they would be.
Since Tyler seemed inclined to leave everything to the police, she didn't know what else to do. His comment about Jack being responsible for the injury to one of their other team members had shocked her, and she could see now why Tyler was reluctant to get involved. But without his help, she didn't know if anyone would look for Jack, and that still bothered her.
Her phone buzzed, and she jumped, rushing back to the coffee table to pick it up. "Hello?"
"Dr. Thorne? It's Naomi Randall, Dr. Hollander's PA."
"Of course. How are you?"
"I'm fine. Dr. Hollander told me about Jack Barrone and his disappearance from the hospital last night. He said you were looking for information on him."
"Yes. I understand you spoke to Mr. Barrone when he consulted with Dr. Hollander in February."
"I talked to him twice. He expressed discouragement and impatience at not being able to get to the root of his problems. He said that his headaches, dizziness, and blurred vision were getting worse. He was angry and anxious all the time, and he needed something to change."
"What did you tell him?"
"What both you and Dr. Hollander had already said to him, that we were working methodically to get to an answer, that some of the trauma he'd suffered over the years could be contributing to his current symptoms, and he needed to continue with his appointments, tests, medications, and therapies. In the end, he said he would do that."
Nothing Naomi had said surprised her. "Did he mention anything about friends or family?"
"No. I actually just read through his chart to refresh my memory. He didn't tell me anything personal." She stopped abruptly. "Actually, that's not completely true. The last time I saw him, he said my red hair reminded him of someone he had disappointed. I didn't know what to say to that, so I suggested that there could be a time for forgiveness. He said he needed to get better fast, because time was running out."
She thought about that cryptic comment. It said both a lot and far too little. "Was there anything else?"
"No, I'm sorry. That's all I remember. It was a couple of months ago."
"Thanks, Naomi. I appreciate you calling me back."
"No problem. If I remember anything else, I'll let you know."
As she put down her phone, she wondered who Jack had let down. Based on his broken relationship with Tyler, it sounded like Jack had disappointed a lot of people in recent years. But why had there been a rush to get better? Time running out was probably a clue, but to what she didn't know.
The alarm on her watch went off, and she went into the kitchen and pulled the bread out of the oven. She was thinking about dishing up the soup and digging in when the apartment buzzer blared, startling her. She hadn't ordered anything, which was pretty much the only reason anyone rang her door. She walked over to the intercom and pressed a button. "Yes?"
"It's Tyler. I need to talk to you."