Close to Home

by Lisa Jackson

  Then there was the way she handled him, standing up for herself, apologizing, but not groveling, insisting they move forward. She had a maturity and wit about her that he sure hadn’t noticed all those years ago. Maybe those qualities hadn’t existed half a lifetime ago, or maybe he’d just been too blind and self-centered to notice.

  So now he had a problem.

  He had to fight the urge to “step in” and “be a man,” not only insist he was Jade’s father, but get closer to Sarah as well. It sounded archaic, and no doubt Sarah wouldn’t want him inserting himself into her life too much, especially when she learned that he’d already contacted a lawyer about his parental rights.

  No, he’d have to play it cool, he thought, as he stopped at the corner before he jaywalked across the street to his truck. There, on a light post, was a poster of the missing girl, Rosalie Jamison. He gazed at the picture for a second and remembered her waiting on him at the Columbia Diner a few weeks earlier. She was probably about Jade’s age, though she’d seemed older, a little brassy and flirty, and now she was missing, perhaps dead.

  His jaw clenched hard at the thought, and for a quick second he remembered Brandon and the pain of losing his boy. Rosalie’s parents had to be devastated. He hoped that the girl was found safely, that she had just run away to be with a boyfriend, or whatever local gossip intimated.

  He waited for a car to pass, a Volkswagen filled to the gills with teenagers, then jogged across the street to find Tex waiting for him as usual, his tail end wriggling as Clint shooed him from the driver’s seat to his spot on the passenger side.

  A daughter. He had a seventeen-year-old daughter.

  Man, oh, man.

  Life was full of surprises.

  Starting the engine and switching off the emergency brake, he looked over his shoulder, then pulled into nearly nonexistent traffic on this side street. All the while, he was thinking of Sarah and Jade and wondering what the hell he was going to do with the rest of his life.

  CHAPTER 26

  Sarah spent most of Saturday morning forcing herself not to think about Clint Walsh, nightmares about Roger, missing teenagers, or ghosts haunting the old house. She used her time to organize the guesthouse, wishing they could move in immediately. “Soon,” she told herself, walking through the upper floor with its two small bedrooms.

  “I can’t share a room,” Jade had announced, seeing the small space.

  “Sure you can. It’s just for a while.”

  “But—”

  “No, ‘buts.’ You’ll have your own room again, when we move back into the big house after the renovation.”

  “Until you sell it.”

  There was always that. No way would she be able to keep the house herself, and her siblings would rightfully want the return on their investment in Blue Peacock Manor.

  As she left the guesthouse, she told herself that was a bridge she’d cross later. She had enough on her plate for the time being and was contemplating how she was going to get through Dee Linn’s bash when, just as she was entering the main house, her sister called.

  Speak of the devil, she thought as she saw Dee Linn’s name and number and picked up. “Hey, I thought you’d be too busy doing last-minute things to call,” Sarah greeted her.

  “I know, I know, and thankfully it looks like everyone’s still planning on coming. I was afraid that with the missing girls, people might not attend, but it turns out things are just the opposite. People want to get out and kick up their heels.”

  “Missing girls?” Sarah repeated, hoping she’d heard wrong. “As in more than one?”

  “Oh, my yes, haven’t you heard? Becky actually told me. She saw it on Facebook or something . . . maybe Twitter or whatever she does now. But another girl in town has disappeared. Candice Fowler, she’s a classmate of Becky’s. They don’t hang in the same circles, but I’ve heard her name.”

  “What happened?” Sarah had asked.

  “No one knows. I think she was walking home from a friend’s house . . . oh . . . what’s that girl’s name? I know it. Dear Lord, I hate when this happens. Oh! Tiffany. Yes, Tiffany Monroe, that’s the name of the friend. Her father is a lawyer who plays golf with Walter once in a while, belongs to the same club. Walter doesn’t much like him, but you know Doctor . . . ,” she said as if Walter were just so quirky and cute.

  Sarah didn’t say anything. She was still too shocked. Another girl? Gone missing?

  “Then there’s Tiffany’s mother, well, she’s a little out there. A psychologist or psychiatrist, I think.”

  “What about the Fowlers?”

  “It was the younger daughter who made the original post,” Dee Linn said, “You know how kids tweet about everything, and then I just saw on the noon news that there’s an AMBER Alert out for both girls. Once I saw that I started calling around, to see that people were still coming. You are, right?”

  “Oh. Yes,” Sarah said, her thoughts on the missing teens. She leaned against the wall for support. “Those poor parents. What they must be going through, and the girls . . .” Her throat tightened as she wondered if either teenager were even alive.

  “I know,” Dee Linn said without a whole lot of empathy. It was as if she were calling to spread the word and check on her party, but really wasn’t overly concerned about the victims or their families. “A shame. I don’t know the Fowlers. The father, he’s an accountant or sells insurance, I think, but that could be wrong. Not that it matters.”

  “Right.” Sarah shook her head, hoping to dispel the terrible images suddenly circling her mind. Purposely, she changed the subject, “Have you seen Mom lately?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “How is she?”

  “The same. In and out of it, I think. She kept talking about Theresa and saying she was safe. With Luke, I think. As far as I know there’s no Luke in the family, and how would Mom know anyway?”

  “She said the same thing to me, but she didn’t mention any Luke. I think she said John and Matthew.”

  “What? Like in the Bible?” Dee Linn asked. “Matthew, Luke, and John. Where’s Mark, I wonder?” She sighed. “Just goes to show you, we’re losing her. Mrs. Malone wants to bring in hospice.”

  Sarah was silent. Of course it would come to this. They’d all known it, but the finality of it all was coming too fast. She remembered her mother thinking she was her older sister, not remembering her. Dee Linn was right. Arlene probably didn’t have a lot of time, and for that Sarah was sad.

  Dee Linn seemed to understand. “Look, Sarah, I know you carry around some guilt about leaving Stewart’s Crossing and not returning and never getting along with Mom, but the truth is, it wasn’t your fault. I know I was all wrapped up in myself when you were a kid, but I saw it, the way she treated you. One minute she was overprotective, the next almost cruel. Face it, Mom was never in the running for mother of the year.”

  “She’s old now.”

  “And cranky as hell and still nasty. You know, I don’t know why she had so many of us. Six! Can you imagine? What was she thinking? To tell you the truth, I never understood why Dad didn’t divorce her. He married her because of me, I was on the way. And, knowing her, she probably got pregnant on purpose to trap him.”

  Sarah winced inwardly, thinking of her own situation as a teenager.

  “Okay, so that was that. And I’m sure she wanted him. Dad was a catch, had a lot of money for the times, and the big house and all. You know, a descendant of the original forefathers of the town, which isn’t really anything to brag about, but there it is. And she needed a father for her kids. The way I hear it, Hugh Anderson didn’t have a dime to his name when he died and just a pittance of life insurance, so what was she to do?”

  “Marry Dad.”

  “No. Get pregnant, then marry Dad. Swear to God, she planned it all. I bet if Theresa were alive she’d confirm it.”

  “You know that she’s dead?” Sarah asked.

  “Oh. No. I just think she must be, y’know. Wouldn’t
she have come back, I mean, if she’d just taken off? Why not let anyone know she was alive? Mom was probably bad enough before she left, but then, wow, Arlene really went around the bend, and that doesn’t begin to touch what happened to Roger. And, by the way, has Lucy Bellisario called you? She’s a detective with the Sheriff’s Department now.”

  “No, why?”

  “She’s looking for Roger. Big surprise. There’s trouble in Stewart’s Crossing, a couple of girls missing, and our brother ends up on the police’s radar.”

  “I don’t have any idea where he is.”

  “I know. None of us do . . . Oh, dear, look at the time! I’ve got to run. I’ll see you later.”

  i’m not going to make it

  Jade stared at the shattered screen of her phone and wanted to scream as she read Cody’s text. Was he out of his mind? It had been so long already, she couldn’t stand another day of not seeing him. Didn’t he love her? She sat on the lowest step of the house’s staircase and started texting him back. Her life was going to pieces, and there was nothing she could do about it. Her damned car was still in the shop, that Sam kid from Algebra wasn’t taking the hint, Liam Longstreet apparently wanted to be her “friend,” whatever that meant, her weird mom and sister were seeing ghosts and now decoding some old diary, and Jade had to deal with a father she’d learned of only twelve hours earlier. Now, Cody was backing out? Now? After she’d waited all this time to see him?

  Why? she demanded. This was cruel and unusual punishment. She felt her old insecurities rise, that he didn’t love her as much as she loved him, that he, older, was too good for her or, maybe, as Mom had intimated, just using her. Oh, it was all such a mess. Ever since they’d moved to this godforsaken place! Le Paon Bleu, my ass! work

  How could work interfere? She wasn’t buying it.

  have to close

  Since when? He’d been employed at a local convenience store for about six months, and his hours had been part-time and erratic, but now, the very day he was supposed to come visit, he had to close the place for the night?

  Can’t someone else do it? she typed. My car’s in the shop or I would come to you.

  k was the reply. Seriously? Cody was okay with them not being together? That was so wrong.

  Miss you she typed swiftly, before her anger took control of her fingertips.

  me 2 got 2 go

  Luv u she texted.

  me 2

  And then she was left staring at the phone, her heart as shattered as the screen. She hated to admit it, but ever since Cody had learned she was moving, he’d changed, and she suspected she knew why. Twice before she’d left she’d caught him flirting with a girl he knew from high school. Sasha Driscoll attended the local community college but lived in the same apartment complex where Cody and his roommate, Ted, resided. It didn’t help that Ted, who was going with Sasha’s roommate, practically lived at her place, and Sasha, of course, spent a lot of her time at Cody’s. Of course, Jade’s mother had forbidden her from hanging out there with the same old complaint—“You’re too young to be there without an adult.” Jade knew why, of course. Sarah had gotten pregnant before she’d taken off for college, and she was desperate to save her daughter from the same fate. What Sarah didn’t know was that Jade had no intention of falling into that trap. She had friends who talked about marriage and babies, not necessarily in that order, but Jade had bigger dreams. Of course, she wanted to go to school, to have some kind of career. She just wasn’t sure what yet, and she didn’t see why it couldn’t involve Cody.

  God, she loved him.

  Even though he wasn’t as true to her as he should be. And right now she thought he was a big, fat loser, but as she scrolled through the pictures of him on her cell, her heart melted, and though the pictures were marred by the cracked screen, she remembered what it was like to stare into his blue eyes and see her future. She knew he would go back to school and become a philosophy professor or something. His job at Lakeside Cash and Carry was just temporary, until he could fix up his car and figure out his next move.

  As she stared at the pictures she’d taken of Cody, she heard the click of nails on the hardwood floor before Xena appeared and, as if sensing Jade was distraught, trotted up to her and placed her cold nose against Jade’s cheek. “Hey,” Jade said and petted the dog’s wide head. She was rewarded with a “kiss” that was a little on the sloppy side. When the dog started washing her face, she’d had enough. “Okay, I get it,” she said, giving Xena a final pet and walking into the dining room, where her mother and sister were huddled over the old diary that Gracie had found in the basement. Like who cared?

  Well, they did. All of Mom’s architectural plans for the house, along with a couple of coffee cups, pens, and a tape measure, had been pushed to the far end of the old table, and they were seated near the archway to the foyer, side by side, the journal spread out before them, a legal pad at Mom’s side, the iPad glowing in front of Gracie. Gray daylight was streaming through the dirty windows, and, Jade noted, Longstreet’s van was parked near the guesthouse, from which the sound of hammering emanated. She wondered if Liam was with his father, then quickly closed her mind to that uncomfortable line of thinking because the truth was that she found Liam interesting. He was cute as hell, and smart, and she knew deep down that because he was supposed to be going with Mary-Alice Eklund, he was taboo, which made him all the more fascinating.

  But she loved Cody—the jerk.

  “Find anything juicy?” Jade asked, feigning interest.

  “Um-hm.” Sarah didn’t bother looking up. She was into it, turning the pages, scribbling on a notepad, squinting at the faded pages, and spelling out words she didn’t understand so that Gracie could type them into the iPad, which had a translation app that converted the French word or phrase into English.

  In a way, it was kinda cool the way Mom had jumped in on this, as Gracie was so damned obsessed with the first mistress of Blue Peacock Manor.

  “Have you decided what you’re wearing tonight?” Sarah asked, glancing up.

  “Do I have to—?”

  “Yes. You’re going. We’re all going to Dee Linn’s extravaganza.”

  “Maybe I can dress up like a crazy person,” Jade said. “But I’ll need to borrow some of your clothes.”

  “Funny,” Sarah said.

  Gracie sighed. “Why do you always have to be so mean? You’re like a bully or something around here.”

  Jade snorted.

  “Positive attitude, Jade, that’s all it takes.” Mom rattled off another French phrase and then spelled it. Jade was impressed with her command of the language.

  “I’m going as a ghost. Angelique Le Duc,” Grace announced.

  “Mom, can you make her stop?” Jade said. “This obsession isn’t healthy.”

  “It’s for Halloween,” Grace said, then under her breath, “Positive, Jade,” in that little innocent voice that grated on Jade’s nerves.

  “Here’s a phrase with Mama in it . . . ,” Sarah said. “And I thought I saw . . .” She flipped through several pages. “Yes, here it is . . . another one with mère.” Her eyebrows knitted in concentration. “Where’s the family Bible?”

  “Family Bible?” Jade repeated.

  “The big Bible . . . it should list Angelique’s parents. I thought her mother was dead. Maybe even died giving birth to her. I can’t remember, but it was a bit of lore that’s a part of Blue Peacock Manor.”

  “So maybe,” Gracie suggested, “Angelique did communicate with her mother anyway.”

  “You mean after she was dead.” Jade’s voice dripped sarcasm.

  “The Bible is more than a hundred years old, and it was here forever, in this room, on that shelf.” Sarah pointed to a built-in corner cabinet with glass doors that was now empty.

  “Whatever.” Jade was fast losing interest.

  Sarah was still staring at the empty shelf, her brows drawn into a line. “It’s important for the family history it holds. Not only is it an heir
loom, it also contained the family tree. There were pages in the front where people wrote in it. Generation to generation, someone took the time to list all the births, marriages, and deaths in the family. Divorces too, though there weren’t many early on. Anyway, the Bible was the old-time version of genealogy, as it held all the family records, and it had been passed on for generations.”

  “So Angelique would be in it?” Gracie asked.

  “And Maxim and his first wife . . . I don’t remember her name.”

  “Myrtle,” Gracie supplied.

  “I’m outta here,” Jade said, though she didn’t immediately move.

  “Grandma kept it in that cupboard for years. I remember seeing it there.” Biting her lip, Sarah glanced around the dining room as if she expected to see the book appear, which of course it didn’t. To Gracie, she said, “Hold on a sec, okay?” Then she scraped her chair back to run up the stairs.

  The dog, sensing adventure, followed.

  Once their mother was out of earshot, Jade asked her sister, “What is it with you? Sometimes you act like you’re a ghost whisperer or something. I mean, how old are you? Like seven?” she added, hoping to shame her sister into smarting up.

  Her ploy backfired. Gracie’s back stiffened, and she turned on Jade. “Why don’t you grow up?” she said, her eyes narrowing. “You act like a lovesick ten-year-old. It’s ridiculous.”

  “What do you know?”

  “Enough,” Gracie said, and the way she said it gave Jade goose bumps.

  Why was her sister such a freak? Before she could ask just that question, she heard a text come into her phone and her heart leaped. Cody had come to his senses and found a way to pass off his shift so he could come up and see her. Surely that was it! Turning on her heel, she left Gracie with her damned journal and whipped out her phone, only to feel bitter disappointment when she realized the text was from Becky.

  Her cousin was okay, but she didn’t need to deal with her now. The text read: