Gary was right there behind her, his hand on her shoulder. “Jess, I didn’t mean for it to...”
So many people from her past were staring at her, judging her. The noise. The spinning room. And Gary was pulling her back both literally and figuratively. She felt as if she were on a moving sidewalk to nowhere, and she couldn’t get off. She turned around and was suddenly in his face. “Listen, I’m just surprised you felt you had to keep the whole baby thing a secret. Was that to protect me or something?” She was getting louder, and although the party was noisy, people nearby stared at them curiously. “Did you think I couldn’t handle it?” she asked, her voice at top volume, her arms flailing about. “Did you think I would care what you and Carol did? I mean—a baby, for God’s sake, is the last thing in the universe I would care about. Been there, remember?”
“Jess, lower your voice, will you?”
“No, I will not lower my voice. Why is everyone always telling me what to do? You and Cooper. Everyone.”
Gary tried to grab her by the arm, but she jerked away.
“Let go!” she said, showering her beer onto nearby partygoers.
“Hey,” a few exclaimed.
“Sorry, sorry,” Gary said.
Jesse turned back to him and shouted, “We’ve run our course, remember? Besides, Barnes”—she gestured into the crowd with her beer—“is very good with his hands.” And she giggled.
“Huh? Him?” And he became a bobblehead swerving around, looking for Barnes. “Are you doing it with him?”
Suddenly, a little crowd surrounded them. Star was there with Ruby and Blue, and Beth came over, and Peggy was ogling them. Professor Pollen looked aghast. Even Lila was hovering, a self-satisfied expression on her face, shaking her head.
And then there was Carol, pushing her way in. “What’s going on?”
Jesse felt immediately on the defensive, like the evil mother who couldn’t hold on to her own daughter causing more trouble. No wonder the locals couldn’t stand her.
“Nothing, nothing,” Gary said. He tried to pull Carol away.
Jesse suddenly remembered why she’d stopped going out. But the beer gave her courage or jolts of stupidity. Maybe both.
“Congratulations, Carol. Gary told me your news. Oops.” She put her hand up to her mouth. “Was that supposed to be a secret?”
Carol looked back and forth from Jesse to Gary and back again as if looking for some explanation. Jesse was drunk, but she still knew her bad behavior wasn’t about Gary or Carol or her old friends or neighbors. It was her. Sabotaging herself. Still. Her guilt and unhappiness clutched and grabbed at her, trying to suck her back like quicksand.
Then there was Barnes, the only calming face in the crowd. He strode right up and took her by the arm—“C’mon, dear. Time to go. I’ve got her, thanks.” He led her toward the exit along the bar side of the café, amid murmurs of “She’s drunk,” “Poor woman,” and “What a hot mess.”
Jesse turned, throwing punches into the air or at whoever or whatever was in her path. She was the center of attention, with everyone watching, pointing, and whispering. They shook their heads at the pathetic sight before them.
“Shut up!” Jesse ranted. “I’ll show you a hot mess.” Then she pushed whatever body was in her way, but somebody shoved back. She lost her balance and fell into the bar, hitting her forehead. She put her hand to her head as tears sprouted.
“Can I get some ice here?” Barnes asked the bartender, who quickly gave him a plastic cupful. He grabbed Jesse’s elbow. “We’re out of here,” he said as he steered her through the crowd. “Nice meeting you,” he said to no one in particular.
“You’re drunk, and I’m driving,” Barnes said as he took the keys from Jesse. She didn’t protest. He wrapped a handful of ice in a handkerchief and placed the bundle to her forehead, which had already sprouted a bump. “Hold this.”
“Barnes, I—”
“Don’t speak.”
She sank a little lower in her seat. They drove the whole way without a word. When they pulled into Jesse’s drive, she was out of the truck before he turned off the ignition. He hopped out and followed her to the front door. She unlocked it and went inside, clearly done with him, but he followed her into the house.
Saint Anthony was there and greeted her, his tail wagging happily.
“Hi, boy,” she said, bending down to pet him. She leaned in close, getting another good whiff of his comforting doggie-head smell. She kissed him. She should have gotten a dog sooner. They didn’t judge and were always happy to see their people no matter how fucked up they were.
Barnes grabbed her by the elbow. “Why would you do that, Ms. Albright?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Detective,” she said, jerking her arm away.
He shook his head. “You’re not going to get away with ‘I don’t know’ this time.”
She didn’t respond.
He went to her freezer, took out more ice cubes, rummaged around, found a Ziploc bag, and put them inside it. “Sit,” he said, and she sat on her couch. He came over and placed the ice on her forehead.
“Ouch.”
“Lie back.”
She leaned her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes.
“What’s wrong with you? I know you’ve been through a hard time, but there’s no excuse for acting like that. You shouldn’t be drinking. What were you after? To make that guy jealous? To get at his wife? I thought she was a friend.”
“Are you done?”
“No, I’m not. What are you doing with that guy?”
“What’s it to you?”
“It’s a lot to me. Stupidly, I thought you wanted to come with me to this party. Instead, you get drunk, act out, cause a scene.”
“You done yet?”
“No, I’m not. You’re going to hurt yourself or someone else.”
She looked away. “That’s what Lila says. My shrink. Ex-shrink.”
“Oh. That’s who that was.” He pulled out a business card. “Some woman named Lila handed me her card and said, ‘See if you can get her to call me.’” He tossed the card on the table then looked around the room.
She saw him take in the dusty piles, the yellowed and crumpled scraps of paper, and the overflowing boxes. An old jock strap hung out of one. A Frisbee and a naked Barbie doll poked out of another. A lava lamp. A transistor radio. Rusted springs from a mattress. She never meant to have company.
“What is all this shit? Are you some kind of dealer of hot merchandise? Or just a hoarder?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he jumped in. “Don’t talk. Just keep this here so the swelling goes down.” He adjusted the ice bag on her forehead then went into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. “You got coffee in this place?”
“Left cupboard, top shelf.”
She heard him rustling around, opening cupboards and clinking silverware. She turned and saw him look at one of her early paintings, a typical Canaan landscape: a barn in a meadow fronted by a long stone fence. It was a large, richly textured oil hanging over the kitchen table. She’d done it so long ago, she barely remembered painting it. The kettle whistled, and he poured the water. He brought over two mugs and set them on the coffee table.
She pulled the ice bag off her head and looked at him. “Listen, thanks for driving me home. But you can leave now. You’ve done your duty.”
But he sat down next to her. Why he wasn’t running for the hills, she wasn’t sure. She closed her eyes and put her head back against the couch, the ice back on her bump. After a few moments, melted water from her baggie started dripping down her face, and she wiped her cheek. She put the ice down and grabbed her mug. As she raised it to sip her coffee, she saw him looking at her hands. She was self-conscious about her ragged nails and cuticles. “They’re ugly.”
“They’re not.” He took her mug and set it down, then he took her hands in his. Examining them, he turned them over and let his index finger trace the v
eins on her right hand. “They’re strong, worker woman hands. They’re beautiful, like you.”
“No.” She slid her hands out from his and shook her head. “Pretty obvious what’s been going on, I guess. Stupid me. I thought I was invisible.”
He shook his head and chuckled. “How could you be invisible?”
“I feel invisible.”
“You want to be invisible.”
She nodded. “Gary’s been an escape, but it’s over. He ended it, and I was pissed. And hurt. And scared. I really thought I could go to the party. I did want to go with you. Get back to being normal.” She inhaled. Her buzz was wearing off. “I was trying to... you know, go out of my comfort zone.”
“Well, that’s a good idea, but not when you combine it with booze. The drinking’s got to stop.”
She picked at her fingernail. “I’m sorry I dragged you into my mess.”
He gestured to her finds. “What about all this stuff?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Try me.”
“I haven’t shown anyone. No one comes over, so no one’s ever asked.”
“No one?”
She shook her head. “My mom’s seen some, and Cooper, my ex, has seen it. But they don’t understand.”
“Well I’m here, and I’m asking.”
She put her mug down. “It was about five years ago when I first started finding things. After Sophie went missing. It started small. A grocery list. A note to a friend. A poem. Even money. I’d find things in the books at work. Things people left as a bookmark or a place to stash a reminder or things they just forgot. It was fun at first. A distraction. But then I started finding things wherever I went. All sorts of things. Photos, lost wallets, cameras, jewelry, love letters, hate letters, teeth, nail clippings. Weird things found in weird places in weird ways.”
“Stuff is lost out there... you started paying attention and seeing it.”
She shook her head. “No, that’s not it.”
“I’ve found odd things on the ground,” he said. “Picked them up. Stuff is out there.”
“No, no,” she said, raising her voice. “You’re not listening. I wasn’t looking. They land at my feet, in my hair, dropped by a bird. They came to me like magic. And still do. They come on the back of a FedEx truck or pizza delivery car, flying out of their windows or shot out of their muffler and landing at my feet. Left in my mailbox. Down the chimney of my fireplace. All this crazy stuff. It’s like some secret gnome has been sneaking around, following me, leaving bits and pieces just for me to find. Except it’s not a gnome. I’m convinced, utterly and positively sure, that they are signs for me. They are clues sent exclusively to me about Sophie. By Sophie. Connections to her. I just have to put all the clues together. The answer is in here”—she gestured around the room—“somewhere.”
“Answer to what?”
Her voice got louder, and she became more agitated and animated, her hands gesticulating wildly. “Whether she’s alive or dead. Where her body might be found. Who took her. What I’m supposed to do. The answers. I have to log it all in and catalogue it and analyze and try to make sense of it. Because if I don’t, who will?” She took a deep breath and looked at Barnes defiantly, then she jumped up, grabbed one of the overflowing cardboard boxes, and set it on the couch. She began extracting items one at a time. “Look at this, a handwritten last will and testament leaving all of Sasha’s earthly possessions to Samuel, including his parrot. Sasha could mean Sophie.” She set that down and moved on to the next. “An envelope containing Joe’s first haircut. Brown hair, like Sophie’s.” She extracted curled locks of hair. She dug down deep into the box and pulled out a lined piece of yellowed notebook paper. “Listen to this.” She began to read, “Dear Mom, I’m sorry I was such a burden to you. It pains me to know how I hurt you.” She stopped reading and looked at Barnes. “See? Do you understand?”
“I’m trying to.”
“They’re signs. Clues. They find me. It’s not like these were found in some garbage can. They come to me. Someone is trying to get my attention. All of this has taken over my house, my life. And things have stepped up. Finding the dog. Seeing April. And it all began with this book.” She pointed to Bixby on the table. “A book Sophie read. It says what I must do: Pay attention. Wait and watch. Don’t you understand? I’m close to the truth, an answer. You, of all people, should understand. You look for the missing. You know about clues.” She stopped and sank into a chair. She exhaled then slowly looked up at him. “You’re like the others. You don’t believe me, do you?”
He opened his mouth to speak then paused as if forming his thoughts. Then he spoke slowly. “I believe you’re close to something.”
She smiled and nodded. Yeah, close to snapping. Close to totally losing my mind. She dropped her head for a minute then walked over to the front door to touch the wire crow on the little table. She pulled Sophie’s purple parka close to her face and gave it a squeeze. She reached into the pockets, extracted two purple striped wool mittens, and brought them up to her nose and inhaled. She slipped her hands into them.
“When she couldn’t sleep, she’d crawl into bed with us. There’s nothing like a sleeping child. How angelic they look.” She stopped, her eyes brimming with tears. “People gave me books about grieving, meditation CDs. They told me I had to take care of myself. They told me to take up knitting. I don’t want to fucking knit. I don’t want to be a spokesperson for missing kids or form a foundation. I don’t want to be a politician or be on a TV show or be interviewed by Oprah or write a book. I don’t want a Lifetime movie made of my child’s life or mine.” Her voice caught, and she paused. “I want my child back. I want Sophie! Period. I want her here, eating her Cheerios, deliberately and slowly, one at a time. I want her to babble on and on about her birds endlessly, continuously, driving me crazy. I want her to say, ‘Mommy, I love you,’ the way she did.” Jesse could hear Sophie talking to her, the words soft and warm, wrapping around her like a flannel baby blanket. She buried her face in her hands covered in Sophie’s little mittens.
Barnes stood next to her and hugged her tightly, then he rocked her back and forth, rubbing her back. “It’s okay,” he whispered. He brushed her hair out of her face and drew his fingers through her wild mane.
“It’s been six years,” she said softly. “I guess I should be over this by now, but it never ends. When I hear of some missing child found after years and years, it doesn’t give me hope. It just keeps me hanging even more.”
After a minute, he pulled the mittens off her and tucked them back in the pockets of the parka. “Come with me. I want to show you something.” He helped her up then opened the front door, and she followed him out. He stood on her porch, looking at the sky. The moon was full and huge, hanging low. It was perfectly round and glowing extra brightly. It looked like a stage set.
“Wow,” she said, standing behind him. “That’s beautiful.”
“Hunter’s moon. It’s October’s full moon. So bright, it would help hunters track their prey at night.”
Jesse shook her head sadly. If only. If only.
Barnes whispered, “Oh, Jesse, I know. I wish I could.”
How does he seem to read my mind? “She’s like a phantom limb. What I’ve read amputees feel. She was there, and now she’s not. My phantom daughter. But I still feel her. All those emotions still rumble inside me. The love, the guilt, the pleasure, the sadness, the worry. I keep thinking that she’s there. That I’ll look in her room, and she’ll be sitting on the floor of her closet, making up stories. My whole life, a phantom life. A phantom marriage with a phantom husband and phantom daughter. There but not there.” A small sob escaped her lips.
Barnes pulled her into a hug, and they stood together in a tight embrace. She felt her defenses dissipating. All that anger, fear, and worry dripped down her body, from her head to her neck and through her chest. Slipping along her arms and out her fingertips. Melting down her body, her legs, and out her toes. She exh
aled the most relaxed breath she’d experienced in years. She felt pounds lighter. The spot in his arms felt so comfortable and safe. She closed her eyes, smelling his neck, a wonderful earthy scent.
“When I finish this case, I’ll look at Sophie’s file. Maybe a fresh eye could see something.”
Jesse inhaled. He was so kind. She hadn’t wanted to ask for his help.
He pulled back. “Show me Sophie’s room.”
She blinked, about to say no. She looked at his face. Their eyes met and held there. They walked back into the house, and he followed her up the stairs.
Chapter Thirteen
After Star said goodbye to her parents, promising to text them when she got home, she and Ruby left the party. As they stepped outside of Earl’s, Star pointed to the enormous shimmering moon. “Wow, look at that...” It hung so low, it looked as if it had dropped a few hundred feet in the sky. “Doesn’t it look totally fake?”
“Oh, my God. Yes, but so cool. C’mon, girl. Selfie.” Ruby, wearing her Kim K. mask around her neck, pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and held it in front of them, using the moon as their backdrop. She leaned close to her friend until their heads were touching.
“Smile, Star.”
Star hated how she looked lately and was so not into plastering endless photos of herself online like most kids her age, but she humored Ruby and forced a fake smile.
Ruby looked at her phone. “I have to take off. Jason is lost in the corn maze.”
“Yeah, right,” Star said. “He just wants to make out with you in there.” Jason was Ruby’s boyfriend. She was normally attached to him at the lips.
Ruby smiled shyly. “Do you mind?”
Star shook her head. “I’m over this place anyway.” She was actually glad Ruby was leaving. It would give her more time to be alone, which was what she preferred. But Ruby was cool. She was basically the only one who didn’t think Star was a freak. She hadn’t deserted Star like her other friends who wanted her to be how she was a couple years ago. Happy. Upbeat. Into clothes, gossiping, and of course, boys. But that wasn’t her anymore, not since the ugly thoughts started appearing. Even keeping up appearances with Ruby was hard. So having one real friend was enough.
Sophie Last Seen Page 12
