“Mary, thank God. I’m so sorry to call you on this number.”
The voice was male, not one she recognized at first syllable. “It’s okay . . .”
“It’s Jacob. Jacob Golf.”
The flood of information that followed the man’s name made her sigh. A client, one struggling to keep his marriage together, he was someone who never called unless it was to make or break an appointment. “Hello, Jacob.”
“Nina’s gone. She didn’t come home last night. I called her cell, she didn’t pick up. I texted her, nothing. Her sister doesn’t know where she is.”
He was borderline manic. Though she wasn’t at liberty to diagnosis her clients like a psychiatrist, she knew someone was manic when she saw it. Or in this case, heard it.
“Jacob, calm down. Take a deep breath.”
“Calm down? My wife is gone, Mary.”
“Jacob, listen to me. You’ve called me instead of the police, so you must think she’s not a missing person.”
Her mind was focused on her job, but the man in the bed beside her leaned close when he heard the word police.
“Who’s Jacob?”
“Quiet.” Mary waved Glen’s question off and turned to stare at the wall.
“Why should you care? You get your check every week. And who are you with? I thought you were single?” Jacob started to shout.
That had escalated quickly. “What happened before Nina left?”
“We fought. She’d been out with her friends . . .” He paused. “Drinking. She looked guilty . . . I don’t know what to think.”
Mary knew from her private counseling sessions with Nina that the woman was less than faithful and had encouraged her to come clean with her husband more than once.
That hadn’t happened.
“Did she take any of her things with her?”
“No.”
Mary rubbed her eyes with her back of her hand. It was too early for this. “Then she’ll be back. Unless you think she’s away against her will . . .”
She waited for Jacob to voice what they both knew.
There was a moment of silence too long. “You knew this was going to happen.”
Yes, she did, but she wasn’t about to say that aloud. “Nina didn’t confide in me on this subject.”
“You should have told me.” His voice grew short.
“Jacob—”
“You women stick together. I knew better than to trust in a chick to listen to our problems and make them better.”
This was always hard to hear, even if she knew all of it was misplaced anger and a slightly unstable mind. Sadly, there was more instability out there than not these days. At least with those she worked with.
“I think we should talk when you’re not upset.”
“You probably know where she is.”
Nina had told her Jacob could get unreasonably angry. He’d controlled it during their counseling sessions but seemed to be having a hard time now. “I assure you, I don’t.”
Beside Mary, Glen had swung his legs over the bed and sat listening to her side of the conversation.
“Such a bitch.” His voice was loud enough for Mary to pull the phone away from her ear. “Fucking—”
The word exploded and Glen grabbed the phone.
Before Mary could grab it back, he was yelling into it.
“Listen, asshole, that’s no way to talk to a lady.”
Mary reached for the phone only to have Glen turn away, his bare back to her. “Glen, stop. I have it.” She did not need this intervention.
“I don’t care who you are. Have some respect.”
Mary heard Jacob yelling on the line but couldn’t make out the words. “Glen!”
One more final outburst from the phone and Glen dropped it from his ear. “He hung up.”
She dropped her hands in her lap and glared. “Why did you do that?”
“The guy’s a psycho.”
No use denying that. “And?”
“What, and?”
“I’m a therapist. Dealing with people who aren’t always of a completely sound mind isn’t uncommon.”
Glen ran a hand through his hair and stared at her as if she’d grown horns. “Men calling you, cussing and screaming, is a normal thing?”
“No.” She glanced around the room, ran a hand over her face. “Not at home.” Which gave her pause. How had Jacob gotten her home phone number? She only gave her clients her cell to use in an emergency, a number that offered an automatic reply after business hours to call 911 if there was anything life threatening in progress.
A wife leaving a husband didn’t fall into that category.
“How did Crazy Guy get your home number?”
That she didn’t know.
She shook her head and felt a tiny shiver of worry run down her spine, and dropped her eyes. That’s when she realized that Glen wore tight underwear. Underwear that didn’t leave a lot to the imagination.
Mary diverted her eyes to her own attire.
Tiny shirt and an even smaller pair of sleeping shorts.
Leaving the room without a bathrobe while having guests over was an unexpected event.
“That man sounded unstable to me.”
“You’re the pilot. I’m the therapist.”
Glen sat tall, tossed the phone on the bed between them. “I’m a man unwilling to listen to a woman accept abuse from another man.”