by David Bell
A number of people talked about Jenna and her f-bomb on Reena’s show. For the most part, the commenters sided with Jenna. Either they found her outburst funny or they took Reena to task for sticking a microphone in her face in the midst of tragedy, never mind the fact that it wasn’t Reena who held the microphone. It was Becky, her local minion. A few people openly wondered about Jenna, picking up on Reena’s comments from the previous night. Some even speculated that Jenna should be a suspect, that she might have killed her friend for some reason no one knew yet.
Jenna had seen those comments before, but they always hit her like a slap. To be thought capable of murder, even by the craziest of the crazy. To wonder how many people in Hawks Mill suspected her of a deeper, more sinister involvement. A convulsive shiver passed through her body, the equivalent of stepping on a slug while barefoot.
Was that part of the deal with the patient at work?
He attributed it to her “foul mouth,” but what if it was something more? Some darker crime others suspected her of committing? And if that was the case, what if they never really found out what had happened to Celia? Would she live under that cloud forever? And when would it leak over and affect Jared’s life as well?
She navigated away from that section. She couldn’t give in to it, couldn’t let the poisonous thoughts of others seep inside her head. She clicked the mouse a few times with her right hand and grabbed a couple of carrots with her left. Advanced multitasking, she and Jared called it. Eating while using the computer.
And then there was an entire thread devoted to the earring being found. New messages popped up in that thread every few seconds. The dominant theory seemed to be that Benjamin Ludlow was the guy who followed Celia. He killed her and held on to the earring until he needed the money and tried to pawn it. People called him scum, homeless, vagrant, worthless, and a hundred other names.
Jenna sat back. For a moment, just a moment, she felt a kinship with Benjamin Ludlow. He was being tried in the court of the Internet. A message board and a group of mostly anonymous posters as judge, jury, and executioner.
Hell, she’d judged him the same way based on how he’d acted in high school.
The private message icon lit up and dinged.
The site allowed any two registered members who were active at the same time to carry on their own conversation in private. Jenna suspected she knew who it would be. She experienced a mixture of dread and anticipation as she clicked the chat icon.
Just as she expected, it was Domino55.
Haven’t “seen” you in a while, Domino55 wrote.
I’ve been busy. Work and other things.
I hear you.
Domino55 reached out to Jenna, or Polly, from time to time. He—she assumed Domino was a he—liked to ask probing questions about Celia’s case, both on the public board and in their private conversations. He appeared to be one of the most informed posters, someone who absorbed every new tidbit of information that was made public and then used that knowledge to spin out ever more elaborate but still plausible theories. They often lacked consistency. If they contradicted one another, so be it. Domino didn’t appear to care. He seemed more interested in playing the role of provocateur, a guy trying on a lot of different poses just to see if any of them stuck.
About once a week, he sent Jenna a private message. He liked to try some of his theories out on her in private before he took them public. Jenna didn’t know if she was the only person he spoke to in this way. She suspected she wasn’t. Domino needed an audience, and one person didn’t add up to an audience.
Ten days ago they’d chatted. Domino’s words felt more pointed that time, more probing. He started asking Jenna what part of the country she lived in and where her interest in Celia’s case came from. When Jenna kept her answers vague or avoided engagement altogether, Domino told her he thought she was really close to the case, might even be a good friend or relative of Celia’s. Jenna left the conversation, vowing to avoid the message boards. But she couldn’t stay away. She liked, almost needed, the conversations and contact with other people who wanted to talk about the case.
That Reena is a hack, isn’t she?
Sure, Jenna wrote. I never liked her show.
That stuff with the deer bones was insane.
Yes.
A ridiculous stunt.
Yes.
Jenna waited, but Domino wasn’t writing anything else. The icon showed he was still there, still active, but no words came.
She chewed some more carrots, biting down and feeling the cold crunch against her teeth. She paused once, listening behind her, trying to see if Jared was up. The house remained silent except for the soft hum of the computer and her own crunching. One good thing about being single, she thought, no need to worry about chewing in a ladylike fashion. She crunched and crunched without worrying about the noise.
What do you think happened to Celia?
The directness of the question caught Jenna off guard. In her mind, she knew what happened. She couldn’t contemplate anything else.
She was taken, she wrote. A crazy person. A killer.
No immediate response came, so Jenna added. Another woman just disappeared in the same area. Could be a connection.
Holly Crenshaw.
Yes.
Could be connected. A brief pause. Likely a coincidence.
Jenna took the bait. She knew he wanted a response, knew he sought the reaction on the other end. But she couldn’t stop herself. She wanted to know what Domino was thinking.
Why do you seem so certain?
Another long pause, one that stretched so far Jenna started to think Domino had given up, withdrawn as he so often did when the conversation grew complicated.
You should know. You knew her well.
Jenna gasped.
What do you mean? Jenna typed.
You were there. I mean, you were almost there when it happened. A pause. Jenna.
Jenna stood up, the motion of her rising body knocking the chair backward and away, where it banged against the closet behind her. Her body heaved as if she’d just run a mile.
He knows who I am. Really.
She thought of the crank phone calls. Not the ones that took her to task for cursing on TV or for simply being late the night Celia disappeared. Other ones came during the previous months. Pointed questions asking Jenna why she’d been late that night. They didn’t always sound like the same man. She felt certain they weren’t. But could one of them be this guy, Domino55?
Don’t talk to me anymore. Don’t try to message me.
We should talk more. Maybe in person. Celia might be alive. People have reported seeing her—
Jenna slammed the lid of the computer down, severing the connection.
“No,” she said.
She looked around the room. The blinds were closed. No one could see in, but she couldn’t see out.
Was he out there? Watching?
Someone knocked at the door. Jenna jumped, gasping again.
“Mom?”
The door opened, revealing Jared. His hair messy, his eyes sleepy.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “I heard something.”
“Where?”
“In here. You said something.”
She brushed past him, heading for the front of the house. She checked the lock and chain, then breezed back down the hallway and through the kitchen.
“Mom? What is it?”
She reached the back door and checked the lock and chain there.
Jared came up behind her. “Mom, what’s going on?”
“I have to call the police,” she said. “Someone knows something about Celia, and they might be watching the house.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The police lingered for close to two hours. She felt safe with them inside the house and milling a
round outside. But what about once they left? Would a baseball bat and pepper spray be enough to let her sleep?
The first officers to respond checked the outside of the house. They walked around with flashlights, their jackets zipped to their chins in the cold night. Jenna imagined the neighbors taking in the show and just shaking their heads. The police had been to her house so many times over the past three months, the neighbors would have to work hard to summon any real outrage. The police visits also freed them from their mundane lives. They could judge Jenna, and then go to work or the beauty parlor the next day with yet another story to tell.
The cops were over there again last night. I don’t know what it was this time, but did you see her on Reena Huffman? What a mouth.
While the cops poked around outside, Jared opened cabinets in the kitchen. “What happened to that promise of grilled cheese?”
Jenna tried to take it as a good sign that her son could be so unconcerned by the arrival of the police. She went to work on the sandwich, hoping it would distract her. But her hands shook as she buttered the bread, and Jared stepped in.
“I’ll finish,” he said. “Thanks.”
“Are you feeling all right now?” Jenna asked. “You said you were sick.”
“I’m fine,” he said.
“Was there a problem at school?” Jenna asked. “Or is this girl trouble?”
Recognition flickered across Jared’s eyes. So it was girl trouble. But he didn’t offer anything else, and before Jenna could follow up, the doorbell was ringing again.
“I . . . we can talk about this,” she said.
“Just get the door, Mom,” he said. “I’m fine.”
“But you’re not fine.”
“I’m finer than you are right now.” He placed his sandwich on the griddle. “That’s probably the cops. Maybe they found an opossum sneaking around outside.”
But then a small smile crossed his face. It looked forced, and Jenna imagined it said more about his own unhappiness than any judgment of her.
“Okay,” she said. “But we will talk.”
• • •
Detective Poole wore jeans and a sweater, and her white tennis shoes squeaked against the hardwood floors in the living room.
“I didn’t think you’d be here,” Jenna said as she took the detective’s coat and hung it on a hook.
“These guys know to call me when the important stuff happens.”
“I guess your evenings at home get interrupted a lot.”
“The cat doesn’t mind.” Her clothes made her look older and more dowdy. She could have been anyone’s mother, just arriving home after an evening at Bible study or book club. “Tell me about these messages.”
Naomi listened carefully and then asked if she could look at the conversation online. Jenna led her back to the office. They passed Jared in the kitchen. He sat at the table chewing his sandwich, staring straight ahead and looking lost.
Naomi patted him on the shoulder. “Hey, handsome.”
“Hi, Detective.”
“Naomi. Call me Naomi.”
Jared smiled a little again, but he still didn’t look like his usual self. Jenna felt a twinge of jealousy. She envied all the parents who had to worry only about typical teenage stuff. Broken hearts, parties, acne, proms.
Jenna opened the computer and logged on. The conversation came back up, although Domino had logged out. Naomi studied it for a few moments, reading it over a few times. She didn’t take any notes, but her brow wrinkled as she read along.
She pointed at the computer. “I’m going to take a screen capture of this.” And she did, the fake camera sound filling the room. “And this guy hasn’t ever gotten too weird before?”
“No.” She tried to keep her voice level. “Okay, the last time we chatted he asked more pointed questions. He wanted to know where I lived. He said I ‘sounded’ like a southerner, whatever that means. And he asked me if I’d ever had the desire to visit famous crime scenes. He said he’d been to cities all over the country where these kinds of kidnappings had taken place.”
“And that wasn’t weird to you?” Naomi asked, her eyebrows lifting above the owlish glasses.
“Do you know what the people are like on these sites?” Jenna asked. “They all think they’re some kind of junior Sherlock Holmes. It’s a hobby. Some people collect stamps. These people study crimes.”
Naomi leaned back in the chair. It creaked under her weight. “True. It’s a great thing the members have been able to help solve a few crimes. Really, it’s amazing. And rare. And now it’s encouraged them. More and more probably joined the fun, thinking they could figure out things the police couldn’t.” She swiveled the chair a little, pointing her body toward Jenna. “I’ll be honest with you, we just don’t have the technology here to trace something like this. If the guy is using his own computer to talk to you, then the state crime lab could trace it. They have a unit devoted to online stalking and harassing. I can turn this over to them, and they can look into it.”
“It seems like there’s a but coming.”
“It’s all a long shot. The guy didn’t threaten you or anything.”
“He said my name.”
“Did you reveal something personal about yourself?” Naomi asked. “Something that would make him think you are who you are?”
Jenna felt like a fool, remembering. “We talked about Celia, of course. That’s all we talked about. I think I gushed a little too much. I know I told him once that it was emotional for me to talk about. That was early on. I think I might have mentioned having a son too.”
“He took a shot in the dark, and now you’ve let him know he was right.” Naomi held up her hand. “I’m not blaming you. I’m just saying the guy got under your skin a little, and he knows it now. Mission accomplished as far as he’s concerned.”
“Ugh.” Jenna raised her hand to her head and rubbed her eyes. “I shouldn’t talk to anyone. It just makes things more complicated.”
“You had a rough couple of days. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” Naomi’s face looked placid, calm. She’d seen it all and didn’t let any of it bother her. “I have a psychologist friend. She says when we make a mistake and then beat ourselves up over it, we hurt ourselves twice. Kind of makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. Too much sense. But this guy mentioned that Celia might be alive. He said he doesn’t think there’s a connection between Holly Crenshaw and Celia. He seemed so certain.”
“Everyone seems certain online,” Naomi said.
“Do you believe any of those sightings? The ones where people claim they’ve seen Celia?”
Naomi looked thoughtful. She lifted her hand to her chin. “There’s a drawback to all this information circulating about a missing person case. It means everybody knows everything. So everyone suddenly decides they’re seeing the victim somewhere. If I thought any of them were truly credible, I’d hop on the next plane myself. But we’ve looked into the ones that did seem credible. Nothing yet.” She cocked her head. “You told me the other day she wouldn’t run away from her life. Why are you asking me this now? Did something change?”
“No, it didn’t. But I’d rather she ran away than accept the alternative. I’m trying hard not to accept the alternative.”
One of the uniformed officers appeared in the doorway. He informed Detective Poole that they hadn’t found anything unusual outside. No signs of break-in, no tracks in the mud. “Do you want us to do anything else?”
“Are you assigned to this sector tonight? Do you mind keeping a closer eye on things here for me?”
“No problem, Detective.”
When the cop was gone, Jenna said, “I should tell you I saw Ian Walters today. We had lunch together.”
Naomi’s voice remained steady. “How did that come about?”
“I went to see him. After I talke
d to you this morning, and you asked about him, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Why hadn’t I seen or talked to him since Celia disappeared?”
“Why hadn’t you?”
“I don’t know. It’s always been a little weird between him and me. Like we were competing to see who could be closest to Celia. He was always going to win that one. He and Ursula. It’s pretty tough for an outsider to break into a tight family unit like that.”
“That’s what you think they are? A tight family unit?”
“They seemed that way to me,” Jenna said. “Is that why you were probing me about the affairs this morning?”
“And you really didn’t know about them?” Naomi asked.
“I didn’t.” Her voice was sharp. Jenna leaned back, resting her butt against the top of the desk. Her carrots and dip still sat by the laptop, but she didn’t feel hungry anymore. Even the odor of Jared’s grilled cheese hadn’t tempted her stomach. “I had no idea.” She picked at a loose piece of skin on her thumb. “I told you Celia and I weren’t quite as tight as we once were these last few years. She had new friends. Different friends. But you know how it is with a best friend. You don’t need to talk every day or know every detail about their life.” She stopped picking. “Clearly I didn’t know every detail.”
“No one did.”
“Why were you asking about it now?” Jenna asked. “Ian seemed to think you got a new tip or something.”
“Not exactly,” Naomi said. “More than anything, we just like to go over old leads and see if anything new turns up. Sometimes a second pass reveals something different.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“Now that you have that little piece of news, do you have any new light to shed on their marriage?”
“I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon,” Jenna said. “I’m still processing it. I’ve been thinking about Ursula a lot, the effect the affair must have had on her.”
“Naturally.”
“Ian told me the guy, the dentist, isn’t a suspect.”
