Chapter 36 Theo
Theo
After wolfing down a quick snack, I left to find my phone.
Pen would probably be home before I got back, but I figured it would be better if I had it rather than waiting until the next day.
Especially if I’d left it out in the open.
I wouldn’t put it past one of my students to play a prank on their teacher by hiding it or something.
Plus, I still felt an undercurrent of worry. I knew Pen was with Melanie. But I didn’t like what Sean had said about seeing Gina Morris outside his house. I had no idea why she’d be looking for Penelope, especially in a way that had such stalker vibes.
Granted, Sean could have been wrong. It might have been someone else, and he just thought it was Gina Morris.
Because seriously, why? What would someone like Gina Morris want with Pen? It couldn’t be about her late husband and his connection to the two victims. No one knew Pen had figured that out. I hadn’t even had a chance to tell Garrett yet.
None of it sat well with me. Which was why I turned toward downtown instead of heading straight for school. I’d pop into the Steaming Mug and see that she was fine.
More importantly, I was going to tell her how I felt about her. Maybe that was the silver lining of her not being home. I’d had a chance to freak out for a minute and now I could give some thought to what I was going to say to her.
Although, as soon as I found a parking spot outside the Steaming Mug, I had a feeling rehearsing what I was going to say would be pointless. The words “Penelope, I’m in love with you” were already on the tip of my tongue. As soon as I saw her, I’d crack wide open. Even if I made a scene.
I hurried through the biting wind and flung the door open. A few people looked up from their drinks as the blast of cold air blew inside. Sucking in a breath, as if I couldn’t hold it in another second and was about to announce my love for her from the doorway, I scanned the coffee shop.
But she wasn’t there. Neither was Melanie.
Letting out the breath, my shoulders slumped. Well, shit.
I went back to my truck and headed to school, tapping the steering wheel as if I was mimicking a drum solo. There was no music playing, though. I was just edgy.
The parking lot was over half full—there was a volleyball game—which also meant the building was already unlocked.
Grateful for small, convenient miracles, I went in and was hit with the scent of popcorn from the concession stand in the commons.
I nodded to a few people and headed upstairs to my classroom.
My phone wasn’t in my desk drawer, where I often kept it during the school day. I rifled through the clutter on my desk, and there it was.
That was a relief. I’d been afraid it might have fallen out of my pocket on the field during practice.
I powered it on, and it took a second for everything to load. I had a few texts, but none were from Penelope. A voicemail notification popped up, so I swiped to listen.
“Hey, it’s me,” Penelope said. “I’m stopping by the gallery for a few minutes before I go home. They have one of my paintings and want to return it to me. I was thinking of making soup for dinner if that sounds good to you. I—” There was a slight pause. “See you later.”
The gallery?
A knot of dread formed in the pit of my stomach. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
I called her number. It rang. No answer. Another ring. Another.
Still nothing. It rang again and went to voicemail.
“Hi, this is Penelope. Leave a message. Or just text me.”
I didn’t bother leaving a message.
But I did not like that she hadn’t answered.
Why would they have had one of her paintings? It was too suspicious for comfort. Did Gina Morris know the sheriff ’s office was about to open an investigation into her late husband? Could she know?
My gut was screaming at me, every cell in my body telling me this was not okay. Gina Morris had been trying to stalk her; she was at the gallery and not answering her phone. I couldn’t quite connect those dots, but somehow I knew they didn’t lead anywhere good.
I ran down the stairs, heedless of the parents and students milling around the commons. The sun set so early that time of year, it was already dark outside, and the floodlights in the parking lot seemed to emphasize the heavy clouds hanging low in the sky.
My phone buzzed with a text as I got in my truck, but it was just Luke. I glanced at it on the off chance it had to do with Penelope—since she’d been with Melanie earlier—but it was something about football.
I pulled out of the parking lot and drove back downtown. There was a popular restaurant next to the gallery, and despite the cold, it was busy and parking was nonexistent. After circling a couple times, I settled on a spot a couple blocks away.
With my heart beating hard, I flew out of my truck and jogged down the sidewalk.
The gallery was so dark, it looked abandoned.
The windows were covered and not a sliver of light showed from inside.
Either they’d put up some seriously effective blackout curtains, or no one was in there—at least not in the main gallery area.
Still, I pounded on the door. Maybe they were up in the loft, and it only looked like the place was one step from being haunted.
No one answered. I knocked again, harder, and waited. Still nothing.
“Fuck.”
I pulled out my phone and tried calling her again. No answer.
Hunkering down in my coat against the wind, I went around the building to the alley that led behind the gallery. Pen and I had escaped out the back door the day we’d been sleuthing in disguise. Maybe it would be open. Or if someone was inside, they’d hear me knock and come answer.
The alley was dark. I found the door and tried the knob. Locked.
I pounded on it—hard—and waited.
Nothing. No sound except the wind.
Where was she? Panic started to rise, and my heart raced as I jogged back to my truck. I needed to keep my head—not freak out. I’d probably just missed her. And if her phone was on silent, she wouldn’t have heard my calls.
Very likely, everything was fine, and she was at home making soup wondering why I was so late. I wasn’t going to panic over nothing. I’d go home, find her there, and scoop her into my arms. Then I’d tell her how I felt about her, and hope she wanted me to stay.