Jesse tried to come up with reasons to tell Blue why she would need to change her days so as not to coincide with Star’s. But none of her ideas made any sense. She had nothing else going on in her life, no need to switch other than his daughter made her uncomfortable. Blue probably thought it would be good for Star—and for Jesse—to reconnect. He had been kind to give Jesse a job in the first place. There wasn't much she could do now. She had taught art at the elementary school before. It had been fun. The kids were so uninhibited, using the boldest colors, painting the most creative scenes. But there was no way she could do that anymore. And she didn’t want to make waves.
Besides, she couldn’t imagine Star lasting very long anyway. If Blue asked her how Star was doing, Jesse would be honest. The girl wasn’t motivated. And she didn’t look well.
Jesse sat down at her desk in the back office, and Saint Anthony found his new spot on the blanket. She pulled Detective Barnes’s business card from her purse then fingered it while gathering courage. She dialed his number. He answered on the second ring, and she told him she might know something about the girl he was looking for.
“I’ll be right over,” he said and hung up without saying goodbye.
She immediately regretted calling him. It was just some circumstantial evidence, and Jesse knew from personal experience that the wrong information could set a missing person case back for weeks and haunt parents for longer. It wasn’t evidence. It was a hunch.
Jesse grabbed a stubby pencil from her desk. She closed her eyes and pulled up the image of the girl with the short, choppy hair and high-pitched voice. On the back of an envelope, she penciled in a face, uneven hair, and short bangs. She erased the nose that looked too big and tried again. Better. Mouth. Thin lips. And the eyes. Something dark and intense in them. She worked quickly and added in detailed cross-hatching of the girl’s hair then the shadows and shading of her shirt. She hadn’t sketched in years and was rusty. The likeness wasn’t perfect, but it was close. Having a pencil in her hand felt good—she’d forgotten how good. It gave her a tingly, almost high feeling.
“Good morning, Ms. Albright.”
Jesse jumped. Detective Barnes was standing behind her. She hadn’t heard the jangle of the front bell, and she just realized she hadn’t even told him where she was.
“How did you...?” She slid the drawing under some papers.
He smiled and nodded toward the phone on her desk, a landline. “That was an easy one. I am a detective, after all.” He was out of breath, and Saint Anthony was at the detective’s feet, nudging his head into the man’s thigh.
“Nice dog. Regal looking.” Detective Barnes was wearing running shorts and sneakers and held a bottle of water and a large manila envelope. He nodded at his outfit. “Sorry about the running shorts.”
Jesse couldn’t help but stare at his lean, muscular body.
“I was out on my morning run and didn’t want to miss you.”
She caught herself staring and looked up. “Oh. Okay.”
He still carried himself with that ease. Totally comfortable. Jesse found it so noticeable because she felt exactly the opposite.
“Who’s the angry girl up front?” the detective asked as he removed his cap.
“That would be the boss’s daughter.”
“I showed her a photo of April, asked some questions. She looks close in age. Got the cold shoulder.”
“Don’t take it personally. I don’t think she talks much to anyone. And when she does, she’s sarcastic and snotty.”
“She’s what? About sixteen?”
Jesse nodded.
“Sarcastic and snotty sounds about right.”
She pointed toward Blue’s desk. “You can sit there.” She chewed on the skin around her thumb. “You deal with missing children a lot?”
“Yes, but parents also hire me to follow their teens. I give reports on what they do, where they go, when and with whom. ‘Teen Surveillance,’ they call it. Parents who can’t or don’t want to keep tabs on their kids themselves. It’s a sad state of affairs, if you ask me, but it’s a job, and I happen to be good at it.” He paused. “Now it’s all about technology. Fancy digital gizmos to track your kids, GPS devices, cell phones with ‘wireless chaperones’—expensive devices to monitor their whereabouts, cameras in their bedrooms. I don’t know what happened to old-fashioned talking to your kids. Spying on them may tell you where they are and what they do but doesn’t give you a good relationship with them.” He shook his head. “Sorry. Listen to me rambling.”
Jesse shrugged. “That’s okay.”
“It’s just that this work can be hard, physically and emotionally. That’s why I’m going back to school.”
“Really?” A private detective with ambition. Jesse was surprised and impressed. “What are you studying?”
“Social work. I’m interested in what’s going on in their heads, not what party they’re going to or who they’re friends with on Facebook.”
Saint Anthony returned to Barnes and sniffed him. He reached into his pocket and fed the mutt a dog biscuit, which Saint Anthony chewed loudly, dropping crumbs all over the floor.
“You’d be surprised how many dogs you run into that need pacifying in this line of work. I’d carry a steak with me if I could.”
She noticed his hands. They were smooth with nicely trimmed nails. She looked down at her fingernails, which were ragged from biting them.
“So you remembered something?”
“It’s probably nothing, but the girl I saw had a high-pitched voice. You know, like a little girl. I remember thinking that when I heard her. It was hard to say how old she was. Maybe sixteen. Maybe nineteen. Don’t know. She had short brown hair. And it was a bad haircut. All chopped up. Uneven.”
“Like she might have cut it herself.”
“That’s what I thought. Unless it’s some new hairstyle. I don’t know what’s in style anymore.”
“What was she wearing?”
Jesse thought back. “A red hoodie and jeans. Purple flip-flops. That’s about it. But when I studied the photo you gave me, I thought that maybe it could be the same girl from the Zone. She had similar features.” She wasn’t about to go into the other things nagging at her. The way she bit her lower lip. The watermelon gum. That she felt the girl was some connection to Sophie. Like one of her finds. Maybe if he located this girl, she would somehow open a door to Sophie. Pay close attention and be patient. Stop. Wait. Watch. And most of all... listen.
Barnes opened his envelope and took out a folder. He laid out five more color photos of April on Jesse’s desk. “Take a look.”
Jesse had gone through the same process for the police. Sophie had worn her binoculars around her neck in her last school picture. Jesse remembered being mad that no one had told her to remove them. And there were no reshoots. But now Jesse cherished that picture. It was the real Sophie.
She had looked like most of the children in the missing person photos, like she was the happiest kid on the block. She was far from that, though. When she was good, she was enchanting, but her other side overshadowed those times. At first, Jesse and Cooper worried they were terrible parents, not firm enough. But Sophie’s mood swings became more intense, lasted longer, and were far more dramatic than most kids’. The tiniest thing could set her off into wild tantrums. The scratchy feel of a sweater or sock. A move to the dining room for dinner. The word no. She would scream and cry, kick and swirl, destroying whatever was in her wake until her initial desire was forgotten. She would finally land on the floor of her closet, either of her own will or after being taken there by Cooper.
“I can’t feel myself,” she would repeat over and over while rocking herself into a calm state.
But birds were her balm, and occasionally, if they caught it in time, Jesse and Cooper could cajole her back from the darkness using a bird sighting or sound.
“Sweetie, look there, a pileated,” Jesse would say, pointing out the window. “Pecking a hole in our oak t
ree. Did you see? His head is huge.” Or “Listen, Soph. Fee bee, fee bee. A black-capped chickadee. So sweet.” And they would prod their daughter to peer through her binoculars.
Jesse wished Sophie was with her, even with all her darkness and difficulty. But it was too late for Sophie. All these years later, Jesse was looking at photos of another missing girl. She pushed the photos away.
“Ms. Albright, I hate to put you through this. You’re a brave woman.”
She looked at him, shook her head. “That’s the last thing I am.” She wanted to scream at the detective for being so calm and understanding. Maybe that was his technique for working people, getting them to reveal stuff the way Sophie could work a bird and get it to come out from hiding.
She picked up a photo of April, studied it, then gathered them all together. She knew she should probably give him the cell phone she’d found in the dressing room, but it was her clue. She needed a cigarette. Wanting the conversation to be over and the man out of her office, she held out the photos.
“That’s all you remember?” he asked as he took them.
“That’s it.”
“Well, thank you for your time.” He looked right into her eyes.
She glanced away then slid her drawing out and handed it to him. “I don’t know why I did this. It’s what I could remember.”
He took the paper from her and looked at it. “You’re an artist.”
“Not anymore.”
“This is very good.” He studied the drawing. “You are an artist. This does resemble April. I thank you for doing this. You’ve been a big help.”
“I sincerely doubt it.”
Barnes stood up to leave. Jesse had gone back to her computer, turning her back to him once again, but she could hear him breathing, standing near the doorway. After a moment, she turned to him. “Yes, Detective?”
She’d seen that look before. She didn’t need his sympathy. Getting up, she walked to the door and gestured with her arm, pointing the way out.
“Call me Tuck, please. Short for Kentucky. Everyone does.” He extended his hand to shake hers.
She just nodded and pointed again.
He put his hand down. “Goodbye, Ms. Albright.”
“I’LL TELL MY DAD SOME cop was in here asking questions.”
Jesse swung around in her seat to see Star standing in the office doorway. Jesse was surprised to see Star in her space, invading what had become her private cocoon. The girl’s presence felt intrusive.
“Is this something about Sophie? Are they going to arrest you for murder?” Star asked.
“What? Are you insane? It has nothing to do with Sophie. Do you honestly think I’m a murderer?”
Star tilted her head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess not.”
“What about you? He was asking you questions, too. I guess I’ll have to tell your dad that.”
“No you don’t.”
“Star, what’s going on? Do you know something?” The girl was acting peculiar and evasive, although it had been so long since she’d spent time with Star, Jesse wasn’t sure. Maybe this is normal teen behavior.
“He was asking me about a girl. Who was he talking about?” Star said.
“Some missing girl.”
“What’s with our town and missing girls?”
“I know it’s crazy. She might be a runaway,” Jesse said.
“A runaway? How does he know?”
“You’re asking a lot of questions. Do you know something?” In the old days, Star would never have lied to Jesse. But that was then.
Meanwhile, the dog wandered over to Star and poked his snout into her crotch.
“Jeez. What’s with him?”
“Nothing. He’s gentle. He won’t bite.”
“I am so not into canines.” She pushed him away. “All sniffy and needy.”
Jesse bit her tongue. She wanted to say, “Sounds like you,” but she patted her thigh. “Come here, boy.” And the dog ambled over.
“I bet that cop’s into you.” Star let out a little laugh. “Way cuter than”—she made air quotes—“your realtor.”
Jesse sat up straighter, surprised to hear Star refer to Gary. She’d assumed no one noticed her, that she’d become invisible. The way she’d felt.
Star walked over to Blue’s desk and sat in his chair. Leaning back, she put her feet up on the desk, pulled a cigarette out of her back pocket, and lit it.
Jesse glared at her. “You know there’s no smoking in here. You don’t want to burn down your dad’s business, do you?”
She took a long drag and blew an obviously well-practiced smoke ring in Jesse’s direction. “I could care less.”
“You really want to reek of cigarettes? You think boys will like that?”
Star laughed. “Hasn’t seemed to cramp your style.”
“Put it out before your dad comes in.”
She dropped the cigarette on the floor and stubbed it out with her boot heel. A whole minute went by while only the sound of the furnace rumbling in the basement could be heard.
“How do you stand it?” Star asked.
“What?”
“This... so-called job. It’s so dumb.”
“I like quiet, and I like books.”
Star scrunched up her nose and made a face. “Bo-ring,” she sang.
“You used to like books.”
“Yeah, right.”
“You said you were going to live in Paris one day, like Madeline, from the book. You and Sophie.”
“I wouldn’t—”
“You were tall Miss Clavel. Sophie always got to be Madeline. Don’t you remember?”
Star opened her mouth as if to disagree but then she stopped, her mouth agape. Jesse imagined her childhood memories were coming crashing back to her. Star seemed to shake it off. “Why do you do that?” Star asked.
“Do what?”
“Go to the mall. Hang out at the Zone? Like every week practically.”
“I don’t hang out there.”
“I’ve seen you.”
Jesse went back to her computer and started clicking away.
“And I’ve seen you stalking kids at my school, too. It’s totally creepy.”
It was true. A few times a month, Jesse went to what would have been Sophie’s school and was now Star’s high school. She would park in different locations—across the street or in the back of the lot behind the school buses. Sometimes, she left her car at the Book Barn and walked there so she could hide more easily. She wore sunglasses, and she supposed she did look like she was skulking about. Never stop looking. Then a haughty twenty-something teacher caught Jesse standing behind a tree with a pair of binoculars and threatened to report her. From then on, she’d been extra careful.
“You’re looking for her, aren’t you?”
Jesse stopped typing. “Yes, Star, yes, I’m looking for her. I lost my child. She’s still missing, and I still look for her.” She didn’t say, “And I talk to her, and she leaves me finds, but I don’t know how much longer I can hold on, even though it says to never stop looking.” She inhaled then exhaled a big breath. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“It’s just weird. Everyone thinks so. They think you’re crazy.”
Jesse threw her head back and let out a hard, scary laugh. “Do you honestly think that after all that’s happened, I would care what anyone thinks?”
Star lifted her shoulders.
“What’s it to you anyway? What do you care what I do or don’t do?”
“I don’t. It’s just...”
“What? It’s just what?”
“Why do you stay here in Canaan? In that same house? Don’t you want to forget the past? It’s not like you’re going to find her now. I mean, she’s dead. She’s got to be dead, right?”
The front bell jangled. Jesse looked at the girl, almost willing herself to see deep inside her, hoping to understand something. Then she opened her top desk drawer, pulled out a tin of Altoids, and held it out to
Star.
Star paused, as if wondering if there was a catch. Jesse nodded, coaxing her on. The girl reached over and popped a few mints into her mouth.
“You never write back,” Star said.
Jesse stared at her, not knowing what Star meant.
Star nodded at the latest pink Post-it stuck on the corner of Jesse’s desk. Prof. Pollen stung by hundreds of killer bees. News at 11. The doodle of Professor Pollen had glasses, a bowtie, and bug eyes. His mouth formed an O as bees swarmed around his head.
Jesse’s mouth dropped open. “You wrote this? And the others, too?”
“Duh. Who did you think?”
“I... I thought it was your dad.”
“My dad?” Star let out a snort. “He can’t draw to save his life. You know that from when we all used to play Pictionary.”
“You know this guy?” Jesse tapped her finger on the pink Post-it.
“Uh, yeah. He subbed for Mrs. Bohnen when she had that skiing accident.”
“Mrs. Bohnen? She was your fifth-grade teacher, right? Sophie’s teacher, too.”
Star nodded. “Yup. He was going on about honey bees even back then.”
For the first time, she realized how ridiculous it was to think Blue would leave her silly cartoon drawings. She felt herself blush. “Thanks, I liked them.” And she nodded toward the doodle.
“Yeah, sure.” Star got up. “I’m out of here.” She looked down, and Saint Anthony was hovering at her feet, gazing up at her as if she were a big, juicy hamburger. “What’s with him?”
“Maybe he’s into you.”
That made her laugh, and Jesse smiled. When Star was at the door, about to leave, Jesse called out, “Star?”
She stopped and turned back.
Jesse nodded toward the little pile of Professor Pollen drawings she’d saved. “I really did like them.”
Chapter Ten
As usual, Gary was waiting for Jesse when she entered the Blueberry Lane house, with the dog trailing behind. Gary’s hair was sticking up funny, and his shirt was a wrinkled mess. She was surprised his wife would let him out of the house like that. But it didn’t matter—he was a friendly face, and Jesse was glad to see him.
Sophie Last Seen Page 8
