But despite all of that, she still couldn’t believe her father had killed her mother. While part of her feared the worst, the rest of her couldn’t accept that he was that kind of monster.
But the police didn’t seem to be looking for an alternate explanation, which meant it was up to her. She couldn’t sit around waiting for Jared’s surveillance to drive her nuts or for her father to be arrested. She had to do something.
Maybe provide him with an alibi. If Ms. Carla was her father’s mistress, it was possible what Jared had heard was him sneaking out to meet her after Mom was gone. Maybe he’d just crashed into something in the garage. She didn’t know how that explained the blood they’d found, but that could be old. There was no telling when it had fallen there.
Maybe Dad was protecting Ms. Carla by not confessing to the affair. Or protecting her marriage, anyway. But if it meant saving her father … people had to face the consequences for their choices.
The question was how to get at the truth. She could maybe find out for certain about the affair by returning the hair band to Ms. Carla and seeing how she reacted. If she accepted it, Emily could tell her that she knew, ask her about that night. And if she didn’t admit the band was hers? Same thing, she guessed. Tell her about how her mother had found the scrunchy and where. Tell her what Aunt Aggie had said about it being a neighbor and hope she cracked. The question was how to go about it. And when.
She couldn’t tell Jared. He might try to talk her out of it. Or go with her, but she was certain that if Ms. Carla was going to say anything, it wouldn’t be with Jared around. Not that there was anything wrong with him except that a) he was a guy, and b) he didn’t do subtle. He wouldn’t cajole or question; he’d demand. It wouldn’t go well.
She couldn’t go when Dad was home, because he’d want to account for her whereabouts, and she didn’t know what he’d think about her going to the Meyers. She dreaded it herself, especially after they’d given that bag Jared had dumped to the police. What would they make of that? Did they think he was getting rid of evidence for their father? Guilty himself? There was no way they could suspect the truth.
One way to find out. She just had to pick her time.
Jared
Thursday afternoon, Jared stayed for track. While the coach claimed he understood about Jared’s mother, he was going to get cut if he missed another practice. It was bound to happen, but not today. He couldn’t lose that too. Not right now.
It was like he carried a force field around him. Most of the team had come up to him before he’d left on Monday to tell him they were sorry about his mom. But no one knew what to say next.
They couldn’t ask Hey, how’s it going, afraid they might get a sad-sack story about his loss rather than the juicy details of the investigation they really wanted. And they couldn’t come right out and ask about those. Too ghoulish.
Except for Dugan. He didn’t have a filter to speak of. “Dude, how’s it going? They arrest anyone yet?” He punched Jared in the shoulder as he asked, like he was being playful.
Yeah, right.
Jared glared.
“What?”
“Never mind,” Jared said, turning away, continuing with his stretches.
“No, really, what?”
One of the other guys came over, put Dugan in a “playful” headlock and dragged him away, muttering something to him Jared couldn’t hear, hopefully that he was a heartless son of a bitch and should leave Jared alone.
He was thankful for that at least.
Jamal, one of the guys who hadn’t yet expressed sympathies approached him, and he knew what was coming. He pretended to be so absorbed he didn’t notice him there, but it didn’t work. Jamal waited him out, determined. Finally Jared looked over. “You too?” he asked.
Jamal shifted from one foot to the other and back, clearly uncomfortable. “I was sorry to hear about your Mom. I remember her buying ice cream for the team after our win against Pinewood. She was a nice lady.”
Jared gave a nod, afraid to try his voice.
“If there’s a service. If it’s open, the team and I will be there.”
“You’ve already talked about it?”
“Yeah, a little.”
He wondered what else they’d said.
“Thanks.”
Jamal nodded and turned away.
When the coach called them to start, he tried to outrun his thoughts. If he’d known what was going on at home, he’d have raced in an entirely different direction.
Twenty-Four
Emily
She was going to do it. This afternoon while Jared and her father were out and there was no one to stop her. She’d told Shara her plan after Language Arts, and when she couldn’t argue Emily out of it, she sighed and made Emily promise to at least keep in touch and let her know how things went. “I get it. You have to know,” Shara had said. And that was it exactly. She had to know.
Heading out now, she typed to Shara, keeping her promise. Wish me luck.
She didn’t really believe in luck, but she did believe in thinking good thoughts. If you put out negativity into the world, that was what you got back. If you were hit with it yourself—and it didn’t get much worse than your mother murdered and your father suspected—you absorbed it. Radiated it like something radioactive, poisoning people around you. She didn’t want to do that. She hoped Shara’s positive vibes could counter her negative.
Ms. Carla worked from home, though Emily had no clear idea what she did. Something to do with customer service or support or something, but from a home office instead of a call center. So, she’d be home. But what about Andrew? As a senior he was on half-days and usually worked the afternoons, but she had no clue about his work schedule, and she wanted to catch Ms. Carla alone. If she saw Andrew’s car out front, she’d have to abort the plan and try again later.
She never got the chance. The doorbell rang, and when she went to answer it, she was shocked to see Ms. Carla standing there, a disposable lasagna pan covered in foil in her hands.
Her heart started to beat harder. It was go time. Already.
She opened the door, and Ms. Carla offered up the pan. “I made baked ziti for you all. With meat sauce. I thought you might need a good home-cooked meal.”
Trying to take over for their mother already? Pain flared like a fire that had been stoked, but she beat it back. She had to be pleasant. Invite her in. Win her confidence.
“Thank you so much,” she said, taking the tray. It was heavy, and she needed two hands. She cocked her hip to hold open the door. “Do you want to come in? I have something for you too,” she said quickly, before Ms. Carla could form a “no.”
“Oh, okay, thank you,” she answered, surprised.
She held the door to let Emily continue on and entered behind her. Emily stowed the baked ziti in the fridge and turned back. “Can I get you anything to drink? Soda? Water? I’m afraid that’s all we have.”
“No, thank you. We were all so sorry to hear about your Mom. It must be awful for you. Please know that you can come to us for anything.”
Yeah, and you’ll go to the police with it, Emily thought but didn’t say.
“Have the police told you anything at all?” Ms. Carla asked. “Do they have any idea who could have … hurt your mother?”
Her gaze was avid, her hands clenched in front of her. She wasn’t asking out of idle curiosity. Worried about her lover?
“My Dad would know more,” Emily said, studying her with the same intensity. “They’ve spent a lot of time talking to him.”
“So, he’s a suspect?”
“I guess the spouse is always the prime suspect.”
“But there are others?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Have they talked to you?”
Carla clutched at pearls she wasn’t wearing. They weren’t her style. “What would they want with me?”
This was Emily’s moment of truth. Did she slam Carla with what she suspected or take a more circuitous approach
? Apparently, her mouth decided for her, unable to wait. Or maybe it was her heart that couldn’t take any more uncertainty.
“Maybe to talk about your relationship with my father.”
Carla took a step back, her face changing. Emily saw guilt flash across it before she got it under control.
“I don’t know what you mean.” But Emily knew she was lying.
Emily went to her backpack on the counter and unzipped the front pocket where the scrunchy was stashed. She turned and tossed the hairband at Carla. “Here, my mother found this.”
Carla let the words strike and the hairband fall to the floor, failing to catch it. For a second there was just shock, and then she said, “But—she told you?”
It hurt, that confirmation. Like a knife to the gut. That Dad had betrayed Mom like that, that he’d lied and snuck around. That he had a motive to get Mom out of the way. Maybe more than one if Mom had life insurance or he didn’t want to pay alimony or share custody. It was crazy, but people had killed before over stuff like that.
“I found out on my own,” Emily said.
“Maybe that’s for the best,” Ms. Carla said, her voice changing now, from the friendly, motherly neighbor to something harder-edged. Emily didn’t understand it. Shouldn’t she still be trying to ingratiate herself with her boyfriend’s family, especially now that they knew?
Emily did her best to keep eye contact, though looking at the woman who’d come between her parents was a sickening thing. “Were you with him that night after Mom left? Can you give him an alibi?”
“I can do better than that,” Ms. Carla said, taking a step forward. Emily didn’t know what it was—something in her eyes or her body language—that made her take a step back, away from the woman she’d known for years, but suddenly it was like someone else was standing there. A complete stranger. She wanted space between them. A lot of space.
She took another step away.…
Twenty-Five
Jared
“Emily!” Jared called as soon as he was through the door.
The house was eerily quiet. He panicked instantly, cursing himself. He should never have stayed for track and let Emily go home alone. Not knowing how fragile she was.
He threw down his backpack, calling her name again and again, louder each time and frantic by the third.
There was no answer.
He grabbed the wall to help with the turn as he slid into the hallway. Her door was open. That had to be a good sign, right? Unless being alone she didn’t feel the need for privacy.
He dashed to her door and froze in the doorway at the sight of the blood. So much blood.
Jared raced to Emily’s side and saw instantly that the blood had come from her wrists, which were cut, a bloody razor blade still in one hand. He felt for a pulse, terrified he wouldn’t find one. The second it took him to find her heartbeat was the longest of his life.
Her eyelids fluttered at his touch, but that was all. She didn’t move. She didn’t wake.
He looked around for her phone but didn’t find it. Thoughts rushed him, but he pushed them aside, focusing on what to do next. Run for the phone or wrap her wrists and then call 911? He didn’t want to delay the ambulance getting to Emily, but he didn’t know how much blood she had left to lose.
He grabbed open her drawer, the one where he knew she kept Band-Aids and things and found a roll of gauze, which he quickly wrapped around and around her closest wrist, pulling it as tightly as it could to put pressure on the wound and stop the bleeding, then tearing it off with his teeth. When he got to the second, he noticed something he hadn’t before—a note just beyond her outstretched hand, easily missed because it was soaked red with blood.
Oh, Emily. His heart was pounding and ready to burst. His fault. All his fault.
He quickly wrapped the other wrist and then couldn’t help himself. He reached for the typewritten note.
I’m so sorry. I know I hurt everybody with what I did. Hurting Mom … I can’t live with it anymore. I hope you can forgive me.
No! Jared couldn’t believe his eyes. A suicide note and a confession? It wasn’t even possible. Emily would never have hurt their mother. It didn’t make any sense. And how was anyone supposed to believe she’d gotten Mom’s body to that park? Even if she could drive, how on Earth would someone her size have lifted and dragged Mom’s body into the underbrush?
She couldn’t.
Which meant someone had staged this scene. Jared had left Emily alone with a killer on the loose.
He ran for the phone and called 911, telling the dispatcher to hurry, that his sister was bleeding. Her wrists cut, giving their address.
“She cut her own wrists?” the dispatcher asked.
“She sure as hell didn’t. Someone cut them for her.”
“Did you witness this? Do you know who hurt her?”
“No, dammit, just get here. Hurry!”
He hung up, even though she told him to stay on the line. He had to think. What did he do now? The note was ridiculous, but what if the police believed it? His first instinct was to grab it before they got here and shove it down the garbage disposal, but it was evidence. Surely the police would see how ridiculous it was. If so, it would only prove that someone had done this to Emily, staged things to frame her. Maybe the note would even have the killer’s prints and would break the case wide open. But with Emily’s history of cutting, which they’d see written on her skin, he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t know how the police would react.
Dad. He had to call Dad. Not to make sure of where he was—at the police station and so unable to have done this—but so that he could rush home. With Emily out of it and Jared not her parent or guardian, he didn’t know if the paramedics would even be able to treat her. But surely they couldn’t just let her bleed.…
He dialed Dad and it went straight to voicemail, which meant he probably had his phone turned off. Jared had no idea of his lawyer’s number. Or even his name.
He tried the detective who’d given him his card yesterday, Detective Diaz. He picked up on the third ring, answering with his rank and name.
“Is my Dad there?” Jared asked in a rush. “Emily’s hurt really bad. He’s got to come home. I’ve called 911. The ambulance should be on the way, but Emily needs him.”
“Slow down,” the detective said. “Hurt how? What happened?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, self-loathing burning like bile up his throat. “I wasn’t home. I went to track. It was selfish, I know, but I never thought … Someone cut her wrists.”
“Someone?”
“It wasn’t her,” he insisted. Did he mention the note? There was still time to get rid of it. “She’d never do that.”
“I’ll tell your father. I’ll be there as well.” That didn’t make him feel any better. Detective Diaz had been perfectly willing to treat Jared as a suspect. He didn’t think he’d be any less willing with Emily.
The detective disconnected, and Jared rushed back to Emily.
She was so pale. “Emily,” he said, “stay with me.”
He reached for her hand, but was afraid to touch it. He didn’t want to move anything and quicken her bleeding. Instead, he reached for her face and gently cupped her cheek. Then, as much as it hurt him, he pulled back his hand to slap the cheek gently, trying to wake her. Weren’t you supposed to keep someone alert? Make sure they didn’t slip off?
“Wake up, Emily. Tell me who did this to you.”
Her eyelids fluttered, but didn’t lift. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Jared’s heart was beating hard enough for the both of them.
He heard sirens in the distance. Seconds left to figure out what to do with that note. Keep or destroy? The police would assume Emily had hurt herself no matter what, but the note made her into a killer.
The indecision froze him until it was too late. The sirens were right outside their door now, and he raced to let in the paramedics and guide them to Emily. A police car was right behind them, and th
ey waited a second for the officer to come through first, probably to make sure there was no danger, since Jared had insisted someone else had hurt Emily. Jared chafed at the delay, but it didn’t last long. The officer’s clearance of the house was only cursory before he waved in the paramedics. Jared was pushed aside as they rushed in with a stretcher and left it in the hallway as they worked on Emily because it was too big to make the turn into her room.
The police officer, after giving Emily a once-over, bent at the waist to get a better look at the note without touching it. Jared realized he should have done the same. His prints were on the note. He hoped they weren’t the only ones.
“Did you do the gauze?” one of the paramedics asked, looking over his shoulder at Jared.
“Yes.”
“Good job. Next time—and hopefully there won’t be a next time—put pressure on the wounds yourself for four-to-five minutes.”
Damn, he’d done wrong.
“Is she going to be okay?” Jared asked.
“She’s lost a lot of blood. We’re going to do our best. You got this?” he said to his partner. “I’ll get the paperwork started.”
His partner nodded, talking softly to Emily. He couldn’t see what else was going on because she was between him and his sister.
The first paramedic rose and passed Jared on his way out the door to the tablet he’d left on the gurney. “Can you answer some questions for me? I’ll need a parent or guardian, but you can get us started on the paperwork.”
Disappeared Page 22
