Where They Found Her

by Kimberly McCreight

“I wouldn’t know about that,” I said, and I didn’t like the feeling that Steve did. “I don’t read the comments on my articles.”

  Steve frowned and looked uncomfortable. He wasn’t frustrated with me, I was realizing. He was just frustrated.

  “So what’ll it be with the situation here?” he asked, looking at his watch.

  I didn’t much want to see what was in the box, but I couldn’t imagine letting the police take it without looking through it first. What if it was something important?

  “I don’t think I’ll pursue investigating. But thank you so much for coming.” I did appreciate the way Steve had rushed over, no questions asked.

  He nodded, pushed himself off his car, and turned toward the driver’s door. “Not a problem. Call me if anything else comes up.”

  “Before you go, is there any news about the baby?” I asked.

  “You’re interviewing me now?” Steve raised an eyebrow as he stood in his open car door. “Seriously?”

  “You’re here.” I shrugged. “And you did say I could follow up.”

  He shook his head and exhaled. “You don’t give up, do you?”

  The old me did not. It was good being reminded of her. Justin was wrong about this story. It was exactly what I needed. “No, I don’t.”

  “ME says it’ll be another couple days before we have an official cause of death.”

  “Does that mean he’s still having a hard time determining it?”

  Steve’s face tightened. “It means it’s going to take another couple days.”

  “But it could still be a homicide?”

  “It hasn’t been ruled out. All the more reason we need someone to come forward. And that I hope you do write: Someone out there knows who this baby belongs to, and we need to hear from them.”

  My phone vibrated with a text. I pulled it out, thinking it was Justin needing further reassurance that Ella and I were okay after my first cryptic text about some anonymous box.

  Coffee after drop-off?

  Stella. Shit. Did she seriously have to text me with Steve standing right here, staring at me? He’d specifically asked me to contact him if I heard from her. I’d have to say something. I couldn’t lie for her, not that much. I’d just say as little as I could.

  “Stella.” I held up my phone. “I guess she’s back.” Why had I made it sound like she was on the run? “Or here. I don’t know that she ever left.”

  “Yes, I spoke with Stella late last night,” Steve said. “She claims she doesn’t know where Rose is. Was surprised as anyone to hear that she had disappeared.”

  “You don’t sound like you believe her.”

  Steve had a hand on the door and one leg in the car. He looked back at me. “Would you?”

  RIDGEDALE READER

  Print Edition

  March 18, 2015

  Body of Deceased Female Infant Discovered Near Essex Bridge

  BY MOLLY SANDERSON

  The body of a female infant was discovered early yesterday morning by Ridgedale University Campus Safety in a wooded area near the Essex Bridge. The cause of death and exact age of the infant remain unknown, pending the release of official findings by the medical examiner.

  The grim discovery of the baby’s body has come as a shock to many in the community.

  “I can’t believe something like this happened here,” said Stephanie Kelsor, a mother of two who has lived in Ridgedale for seven years. “What a tragedy.”

  Others saw the situation differently.

  “People here like to pretend they’re perfect,” says Patrick Walker, owner of Pat’s Pancakes. “But they’ve got the same problems as anywhere else. They’ve just got more money to cover it up.”

  Historically, crime rates in Ridgedale have been very low, with minor property crimes the most common offense. Serious crime is all but nonexistent in town. In the past two decades, there have been only two murders and six reported rapes.

  However, these numbers may not reflect all crime that occurs on the university’s campus. While there are federal reporting requirements, offenses involving students will often be handled exclusively as a violation of the university’s disciplinary code.

  The Ridgedale Police Department has asked that anyone with information relating to the infant’s identity or cause of death contact them as soon as possible at 888-526-1899.

  JENNA

  MAY 20, 1994

  We hung out after school today in the woods near the Captain’s parents’ house. He got some beers and I was going to say no thanks, so he didn’t think I was some drunk loser, but then I thought if he was drinking, too . . .

  He asked me about my parents and told me about his. They sound kind of uptight and whatever, but he said that they would really like me.

  Did you hear that? HIS PARENTS WOULD REALLY LIKE ME??!! What guy talks about you meeting his parents unless he’s seriously into you?

  He asked me about Tex, too. “That dude would ditch his girlfriend in a second for you,” that’s what the Captain said. And it sounded like they’re not even that good of friends, which is strange, because I thought they were. But who knows? Guys are weird.

  I told the Captain the truth: I like Tex as a friend, but just a friend.

  And what’s not to like? Tex is always saying how amazing I am because I’m a spitfire instead of a wack job inappropriate nutso, like my parents think. Too crazy, too loud, too wild—my voice, my clothes, my friends, my thoughts. I embarrass them. That’s the bottom line. Always have. Always will.

  And so, yeah, I like that Tex gets me and that he’s sweet and nice and tries to watch out for me (even when he’s getting in the way). But he doesn’t DO anything for me (even if I sometimes kind of wish he did). Not in that way, not at all. And you can’t make a fire by pretending there’s a spark.

  And you know what the Captain said when I told him that Tex and I are just friends? He said: “Good.” And then he kissed me soft and sweet and slow. And so you know what I did?

  Gave him a BJ! Best one of my fucking life.

  Sandy

  It was early, a little past nine a.m., as Sandy waited on the front steps of Laurie’s building. She’d already rung the buzzer three times. There hadn’t been an answer, just like there hadn’t been any of the five previous times she’d come by in the past twenty-four hours. But Sandy had kept coming back because Laurie was the last person who’d talked to Jenna. More important, she’d talked to this so-called friend of Jenna’s who might have been the very last person to see her.

  In between coming by Laurie’s, Sandy had kept riding around looking for Jenna and calling and calling and calling. Late the night before, the calls had started going straight to voicemail. Sandy had been waiting for that to happen. Still, it hit her hard, like some kind of nail in Jenna’s coffin. Monte had called Sandy, said he was going to start driving around, looking for Jenna. Sandy wanted to say no, that she didn’t need his help. But she did need it. Jenna did, too.

  Sandy closed her eyes there on Laurie’s steps, tilted her face to the sun, wishing it would light her skin on fire. At least then she might feel something again. Because she was slowly going numb—first her toes, then her feet and legs. Now the deadness was creeping up her arms.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket. By now, she knew better than to get her hopes up. Sure enough, it was a text from Hannah. I need to see you. Please.

  This girl was literally killing her.

  Can’t right now. Meeting someone. I’ll text when I’m done.

  Okay. But as soon as you can.

  Or I’ll tell someone: That was the threat, sitting there, just out of reach.

  Sandy started down the steps, wondering what she should do or where she should go next, when Laurie’s door finally swung open.

  “What the hell do you want!?” Laurie shouted before she’d even stepped out, her face all screwed up and red. “Oh, it’s you.” She blinked at Sandy. Then she exhaled and slumped against the doorframe. Her square white-blond bob wa
s perfectly smooth, and she was wearing a short kimono-like robe that was too small for her wide hips. “Sorry, Sandy, I thought you were the goddamn police again. The intercom’s broken, so I’ve had to come down four stupid flights every time they’ve shown up, which has been at least six times. I started ignoring it. But they just keep coming and coming.”

  “Police?” Sandy couldn’t help thinking it had something to do with Jenna.

  “They’re looking for my roommate, Rose, and they think I’m lying about her not being here, so they keep coming back and coming back, ringing my damn doorbell at all hours. Like if Rose is hiding upstairs, she’s all of a sudden going to forget and answer the door.”

  Sandy wondered how many of these supposed “visits” from the police had been her ringing Laurie’s buzzer. “Why do they want Rose?”

  “They won’t tell me. They’ll harass the crap out of me, but won’t tell me why. Who knows, maybe Rose’s parents put them up to it. You know I love that girl. I was even willing to put up with a baby—longest goddamn three weeks of my life—but between the police and her parents and her stalker, I think she needs to find a new place to live. Assuming she comes back.”

  “You don’t know where she went?”

  “Not a clue. She left two days ago with the baby and some of her stuff. Said she was going to see a friend.” Laurie rolled her eyes. “You know me, I don’t like to ask questions.”

  “And who’s her stalker?” Blond woman? That’s what Sandy was thinking.

  “Real tall guy, buzzed hair, super-intense. I thought at first he was some kind of cop or, I don’t know, a soldier or something. Way uptight. Erik, that’s what he said his name was. For all I know, he’s Rose’s baby daddy. She never would tell me who that was. For her sake, I hope not, because he was old as shit.” She rolled her eyes again. “But that hippy-dippy crap of hers makes her do some weird stuff sometimes. Anyway, what are you doing here?”

  “I’m looking for Jenna,” Sandy said, feeling even more stressed. Because this was it. Laurie was pretty much her only hope. After her, it was all dead ends. “Monte said you were talking to Jenna at the end of her shift the night before last.”

  Laurie’s face screwed up. “No, I don’t think—” Then a lightbulb went off. “Oh, wait, yeah, I was,” she said, nodding, seeming half surprised at the memory. “I did talk to Jenna for just a minute. I would have hung out with her for longer, but that friend of hers?” She whistled quietly and shook her head. “I’m sure she’s a nice person and whatever, if she’s your mom’s friend, but there was just something about her. Not to be rude, but she was kind of a bitch.”

  “Do you know what her name was?”

  Laurie shook her head, made a disgusted face. “Blond hair, puffy cheeks, bad jeans. Nothing like Jenna, that’s for sure. Drank club soda, too. Weird, I’m telling you, the two of them hanging out. But you know Jenna. Maybe she was working some angle. That’s why I love Jenna—she’s always got an angle.”

  “And they left together?”

  “If that’s what Monte said.” Laurie checked her watch. “I got distracted by some idiot. Same idiot who won’t get the hell out of my bed right now and get his ass back to campus.”

  “If you hear from Jenna, can you tell her to call me?”

  “You got it, sweetie. But don’t you worry about her.” She waved a hand. “Jenna will come rolling in any minute with a wicked headache and some crazy-ass story to tell. She always does.”

  Sandy stood across the street from the police station, airing out her hands so they wouldn’t feel clammy if a police officer shook one. Last thing she wanted was to go inside, into the lion’s den. But she was out of options. She was even kind of hoping Jenna might be there, safe and sound and sobering up on some little cot.

  “Hey.”

  When Sandy turned, there was Aidan, silhouetted by the sun. She lifted a hand to her eyes so she could make him out better in the glare. She hated how happy she was to see him. Her heart skipped an actual stupid beat. And she was the one who’d been ignoring Aidan’s texts and then his calls since yesterday, freezing him out on purpose. What she and Aidan had was fun and whatever, but Sandy wasn’t dumb enough to think he had any role in this actual, real-life situation.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “And why do you look like such shit?”

  Aidan was pale, with dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was a mess. He crossed his arms in front of him, tucking his hands under the opposite armpit. “Kind of hard to get a good night’s sleep when your girlfriend is trying to break up with you.”

  “Girlfriend?” Sandy laughed. Because she really thought he was joking. But he was staring straight at her, his eyes glowing in the sun like polished amber. “So you just happened to see me here?”

  “If by ‘happened,’ you mean that I’ve been driving around looking for you ever since that last text you sent—you were supposed to meet me after I stayed in class, remember?”

  “So you’ve been stalking me?”

  “I prefer ‘search and rescue.’”

  Sandy turned away. Already she could feel herself caving, giving in to temptation. She should have said: Fuck you, I don’t need a rescue. Because she didn’t. But she did want to let go, to let all of it crash over and wash her away. She couldn’t tell Aidan the worst of it—she couldn’t tell anyone that—but maybe she could tell him something. And then, for one second, she wouldn’t be alone with all of it anymore.

  “There’s just a lot of shit right now,” she said.

  “Like what?”

  “Like we’re getting evicted from our apartment.” Sandy stared right at Aidan, daring him to screw it up by looking shocked and appalled. He didn’t blink. “And now I can’t find Jenna.”

  “What do you mean?” He looked worried, but not in a bad way.

  “That I can’t fucking find Jenna. I’ve looked everywhere for her, and I’ve called her a million times. Last time anyone saw her was at work a day and a half ago.”

  “Did you tell the police?”

  “About what?” Sandy felt a guilty twist.

  “Um, about your missing mom.” He looked at Sandy like maybe she was being dumb on purpose. “They should be out looking for her or whatever.”

  “I’m thinking about it.” She nodded in the direction of the police station. “But what if she’s high out of her mind somewhere? It’s not like your mom being gone.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think my mom’s the police’s favorite right now, either.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The police showed up looking for her last night.” Aidan pulled out a cigarette and offered one to Sandy. She waved it off, too nervous to smoke. “My mom loved it, too, wouldn’t shut up about it afterward.” He made a face, imitating her. “‘The police are so stupid, they’ll believe anything.’ She’s full of shit anyway. She just wants to pretend she knows something that somebody might care about.”

  “About what?” It felt like he was avoiding telling her.

  “That baby they found, I think,” he said quietly. He seemed embarrassed. “Like I said, she doesn’t actually know anything.”

  They stood in silence for a minute longer, facing the police station.

  “Let me help you look for your mom,” Aidan said finally.

  Sandy could feel him staring at the side of her face, but she kept her eyes down. Her throat felt thick. “No, I don’t think—”

  “Come on, give me a chance not to be the asshole everybody thinks I am. You won’t owe me anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. I want to help.”

  What Sandy really wanted right then more than anything was someone to help her. To take care of her. She wanted a mom. That was the truth, even if she didn’t want to admit it. And not Jenna, no matter how much she wanted to find her. What Sandy wanted was a real mom. A regular one. But what she had was Aidan. And maybe he was something.

  “Okay,” Sandy said, because letting him help wasn’t the same th
ing as needing him to. “For now.”

  Relax, Sandy told herself inside the musty old police station. She was alone. Going in with Aidan would have been too suspicious. She’d sent him to check the hospital for Jenna. She’d been avoiding that, too.

  The creaky floor and stale air reminded her of a place she’d gone on a field trip as a kid back when they’d lived for a year in South Jersey. Some colonial house where the kids were taught how to churn butter, except no one had gotten it to work. Only difference here were the flags lined up against the wall and the pictures of all those friendly fellas in uniform who could easily arrest her anytime they wanted.

  Keep it the fuck together.

  “Stapler, stapler, stapler,” a tall guy behind the desk was muttering, half to Sandy and half to himself. “You’d think finding office supplies wouldn’t be the hardest part of this job, but I tell you, sometimes . . .” He reached forward and grabbed something. “Ah, here it is.”

  He stapled the pages, then looked up at Sandy. Fucking instantly, he looked suspicious. And she hadn’t even opened her mouth. A teenager alone in the police station? Of course he was wondering what her deal was. But the more he looked at Sandy, the more it felt like he was trying to see right through her. Like maybe he already had.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  It was too late to run. Her only choice was to calm the hell down. “Um, yeah,” she said softly. “I’m looking for my mom. She didn’t come home the night before last. She was with some friend right before she left work—or I don’t really know if she was a friend. The people my mom works with think she was . . . some woman with blond hair, they said. She was the last person to see my mom, I guess, but they didn’t get her name, so I have no way to find her.” Now that Sandy had gotten herself talking, she could not shut up. “And she— Well, my mom isn’t always the most dependable person, but she always comes home, you know, eventually.”

  “Hmm.” The police officer’s brow furrowed. He looked less suspicious and more concerned. “How long since you last spoke to her?”