CHAPTER 25People under stress could be as stupid as those in love, but they were geniuses compared to multitaskers. Throckmorton didn’t think of the obvious until noon on Friday. He was finishing lunch at the Coffee Cup when it hit him.
“Crap! Gert, I need my check. I have to get home.”
“What’s the rush?” she asked, pulling out a pad and handing him his tab. She eyed the food left on his plate. “Was the chicken that bad?”
He glanced at the check and tossed several bills on the counter. “Chicken was fine. Jen is coming tomorrow. Keep the change,” he said, and rushed out.
Visions of Jen arriving a day early, prowling outside his house, squeezing between shrubs and peeking through windows, galloped through his mind as he drove home. She’d see that the guest bedroom was empty, not full of
