by David Bell
Jared saw that the kid who had been lying back, the one with the cigarette, had moved toward the group. He stood behind them, his hands jammed into his pockets. He wore his hair long and his face was covered with a scraggly beard. Bobby Allen. He was a junior, and he and Jared had played on the same soccer team back in grade school. Neither one of them was very good, and Jared had barely spoken to him since then.
Jared started backing away, his heart still racing.
Ursula said, “Go on and see your freaky girlfriend.”
Again Jared stopped. “What do you know about her?”
“I know she’s a freak,” Ursula said. “And I know she’s been out of school for a few days. It’s kind of cute and sadly pathetic the way you two found each other. Is it time for your hookup? Is that why you’re rushing over there through the park? So you can get your evening jollies?”
“He’s not doing that, I can guarantee you.”
It was Bobby Allen, and his voice didn’t sound as threatening as the ones used by the others. He sounded almost friendly.
“What do you mean?” Ursula asked, turning her head slightly.
“Her dad, man. He’s a fucking lunatic. He works for my dad. Or with him or something. He’s not letting any boys near that house.”
“What do you know about him?” Jared asked.
“Just what I heard from my dad. Guy’s a weirdo. Listen, you’re probably better off just finding a new girl. Hell, the school’s full of them. Have you ever noticed, even some of the nerdiest guys are getting laid in our school? There’s somebody for everybody.”
“He doesn’t want to do that, Bobby,” Ursula said. “Look at him. He’s in love. And now you made him even more worried about his girl.”
As soon as she was done speaking, Jared started away, leaving their voices behind in the dark and not needing to tell Ursula she was right.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jared passed the closed-up and quiet homes on Tabitha’s street. He walked under a burned-out streetlight, its darkened shape showing against the sky. He felt determined, his steps heavier, his pace quicker. He couldn’t just wander around the perimeter of the house, spying like a weirdo and hoping to catch a glimpse of Tabitha. He needed to talk to her, to know she was okay, even if that meant going straight to the door and knocking.
So he did.
Tabitha’s house was dark. He saw that much. No lights glowed anywhere, not even from the back of the house where he’d seen them before. But Jared vowed not to accept that as enough. Maybe they were holed up inside, hiding out. Or maybe Tabitha was home, acting under orders from her father to lie low and show nothing.
Jared took the porch steps two at a time, and as he reached out for the bell, his heart raced twice as fast as it did in the park when Ursula’s little gang confronted him. He cursed himself for not figuring out what to say in advance if her dad answered the door. He decided he’d play it cool and simply ask to see her. If he said no, Jared wanted to rush in, right past the hulking body, and find Tabitha.
He rang the bell again. And waited. He pushed it again, but nothing happened.
“Shit.”
He wasn’t scared for himself anymore. He was scared for her. Was that love? When you worried more about someone else than yourself? It sounded like a good definition. He understood why his mom kept secret his role in her tardiness on the night Celia disappeared. She wanted to protect him. She cared more about him than about her own reputation.
Jared turned and went back down the steps. He walked around the side of the house, the side he’d spied from the other night when he threw the rock. The kitchen window was dark, and someone had taped a piece of cardboard over the hole he’d made.
Jared stood there, accepting the pointlessness of his trip. The sky above was clear, the stars beginning to speckle the sky. He faced the walk home and then explaining everything to his mother. And when all that was finished, he still might never see Tabitha again. He wouldn’t know if she was safe or in danger, in town or gone somewhere else.
He headed back out to the street, his head sinking down into his shoulders. He kicked at a loose stone, which did nothing to make him feel better. An embarrassment settled over him, the sense of being a child who wanted something he could never have, something far out of his reach.
“Hey there.”
Jared looked to his left. An old guy stood on the porch next door. He wore a T-shirt despite the cold. His hair was slicked back and long sideburns framed his face, making him look like some kind of throwback to the 1950s, the kind of dude who’d hang out shooting pool or leaning against a jukebox. He held a can of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
The guy pointed with his cigarette. “You know them?”
“Kind of,” Jared said.
“You’re looking for them, though. Probably that girl, right?”
“We go to school together.”
The man took a drag from the cigarette, shaking his head as he did so. When he blew out a plume of smoke, he said, “I wish girls looked like that when I was in school.”
“Have you seen them?” Jared asked.
“No, sir. But there was some commotion over there a little over an hour ago. A fellow come over in a nice car, business type. You know, suit and tie and all that. I was out here smoking because I don’t in the house anymore. I heard some yelling, I think, but that was it. I didn’t see the girl, but I don’t see her much.”
“And that was all?”
“I ain’t a spy,” the man said. He flicked his cigarette out into the yard, the red glow falling like a star. “I didn’t see or hear anything else.”
“Did they move out?”
“Move out? I doubt it. I’d have seen a truck. I’m here most of the day. Somebody busted a window over there, but there are a lot of punks in the neighborhood. If they tried that over here, they’d answer to me.”
“Thanks,” Jared said.
“What’s the girl’s name?” the man asked.
“Tabitha.”
“Tabitha. Her folks fans of Bewitched?”
“Of what?”
“Never mind.” He tipped the beer can up to his mouth. “You know, I didn’t see a van or anything when they moved in. Maybe they’re the quiet types. Or maybe they don’t have much. Lot of that going around.”
“Thanks.”
“You be careful going home. You heard there’s some maniac on the loose. Took that woman right over in the park. Killed another one today.”
“I heard.”
“Like I said, if they were to come messing with me . . .”
His voice trailed off as Jared walked away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Jenna calmed down a little as time went by. She didn’t have a choice.
Right after Jared went out the door, she grabbed her car keys, intending to pick him up. But she knew better than that. Jared would have ducked down side streets and through backyards, probably even cut across the park, and she would have driven in circles hoping to come across him by chance.
She also considered calling. But she knew he wouldn’t answer. And if he did answer, she also knew what he’d say.
Don’t worry. I’ve got this.
She stared at her phone, scrolling through her contacts. Detective Poole’s name popped up. But then what? Bother a detective in the middle of two major crimes because her teenage son ran off?
She owed her mom a call, so she dialed. Her mom sounded distracted when she answered, and Jenna asked if it was a bad time.
“I’m playing cards,” her mother said.
“Okay. We can talk another time.”
“Honey? I don’t want you to think I don’t support you. I know you’re having a difficult time.”
“I know you know that.”
“It’s just that when you’re on TV cur
sing, and then everyone compares you to Celia and how she conducted herself, well, it doesn’t always look right.”
“I get it, Mom. Celia’s the pretty, polished one.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“She’s the one lucky enough to disappear before she cursed on TV.”
“Honey, that’s rude.”
So Jenna hung up.
She made one more call, to Stanley’s, to order a pizza. She felt hungry, and when Jared came back, even if he was angry with her, he’d be hungry as well. After ordering, Jenna admitted to herself she kind of liked the passion Jared displayed. It was young love, first love, but he cared enough about this girl to run after her, to do whatever he could to ensure her safety. She sometimes thought the passing years robbed everyone of the ability to make glorious, spectacular fools of themselves.
Just then the landline rang, making Jenna jump. Was it her mom again? The woman never apologized, so it couldn’t be that.
When she answered she heard the comforting voice of Detective Poole on the other end, asking Jenna how she was doing. For an agonizing moment, Jenna worried that Detective Poole was calling with bad news about Jared. He’d gotten in trouble or gone too far in his quest for finding Tabitha, but the thought left her mind just as quickly as it entered. Who on earth could get in trouble that quickly? And it wouldn’t be like Jared.
“I’m okay. Is something wrong?”
“It might be,” Naomi said. “I just got off the phone with Reena Huffman. Not an assistant, not a flunky. But the lady herself. She almost never does that.”
“What did she want?”
“I think you need to prepare,” Naomi said. “She’s going to talk about you a little more on tonight’s show.”
“Because I cursed?”
“Not that. Although she may throw that in for good measure. No, she’s learned about Celia’s affairs.”
“Who told her?” Jenna asked.
“Do you think Reena reveals her sources to me?” Naomi asked. “I have to ask you this, Jenna—”
“No, I didn’t tell Reena. Why would I want my friend’s name dragged through the mud by that awful witch?”
“I had to ask.”
“I didn’t, Naomi.”
“Reena hasn’t called you?”
“No.” Jenna checked the clock. Fifteen minutes to showtime. “What does this mean for her case? Does it really affect anything? It’s not relevant, is it?”
“When you don’t know anything, everything is relevant.”
“Naomi, do you ever do welfare checks on people? Kids especially?”
“Do you know someone who might be in danger?”
Jenna offered a quick rundown of what she knew about Tabitha, but as she related the facts she realized they still didn’t amount to much. A kid who kind of looked familiar and had a strict father. Good luck with that.
“And you don’t even know where this girl lives?” Naomi asked.
“No, I don’t. Jared does.”
Naomi sounded tired. “I suggest you monitor the situation. If something drastic happens, you can give us a call. For now . . .”
“I hear you. Thanks.”
“I guess we’ll all see what Reena has in store for us tonight.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Five minutes after she had hung up with Naomi, the phone rang again. As soon as Jenna answered, she heard the husky, overly dramatic voice of Reena Huffman on the other end. Even in a phone conversation off the air, the woman sounded as if she were pontificating and performing for a crowd.
“Jenna, how are you?” Her voice dripped with false concern, so much so that Jenna wondered if syrup was going to come oozing out of the receiver. “I’ve been thinking of you a lot lately. With everything going on this week, I can tell it’s getting to you.”
Jenna gritted her teeth. She held back so she didn’t give Reena any other ammunition to use against her. “Did you want to ask me something, Reena?”
“I just did. I asked you how you were doing. You know, when Becky sent me that footage from the other day, I nearly fell out of my chair. I thought to myself that can’t be the sweet, friendly girl we’ve been getting to know so well ever since this tragedy happened. That’s why I thought the strain was getting to you.”
“I’m fine, Reena. Actually my son will be home soon, and I have to feed him—”
“Perfect, I knew it. And such a good-looking boy. He resembles you some, but he must really favor his father. Is that true?”
“He got his dad’s looks. That’s about all my ex had to offer.”
“Does he get to see him a lot? I know it’s tough when a boy grows up without a father.”
“You know, Reena, that’s several questions you’ve asked me now, but I suspect none of them are the one you really called about.”
“You’re right,” she said. Jenna could imagine the TV hostess patting her perfectly sculpted hair. “I’m about to go on the air with a story, and I wanted your comment on it. I would have called sooner, of course, maybe even arranged an interview, but we got this so late, and it’s Friday and we want to get it on.”
“You want to know if I knew if Celia was having an affair when she disappeared,” Jenna said.
“News does travel fast out there in Kentucky. I need to know your sources.”
“I didn’t know. I just found out myself.”
“Not about the affair in the past or the one at the time of her disappearance?”
“Neither.”
“How did you learn about them, then?” Reena asked. “I’m sure the police will be wondering why you didn’t know and how you found out.”
“I’ve already talked to the police,” Jenna said.
“Well, this is all fascinating.” Someone said something on Reena’s end of the line. The voice sounded harsh and rushed. “I’m on my way,” Reena said, her voice muffled a little. And then she was back. “I do have to go now, Jenna. But you should watch tonight, since I’ll be covering this.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“You’re not still mad at me about last time?” Reena asked, her voice as sweet as buttermilk. “I just had to follow the story and show the human drama. And this is a very human drama.”
“You don’t want them to find Celia, do you?” Jenna asked.
She hadn’t planned it, hadn’t thought it, but the words rushed out. Was there a benefit to Reena if a crime was solved? Not if it happened quickly. There must have been a sweet spot where she hoped an answer would come. Long enough to stretch the ratings out but not so long that people grew sick of hearing about the story.
Reena didn’t lose her cool. That was the problem with challenging someone like Reena, a true believer. She never lost her cool. She’d argued in courtrooms and on national TV. Did Jenna think she could shake this woman’s composure or knock her off stride? More important, did Jenna think Reena cared about anything she had to say to her?
“See,” Reena said, “you’re getting angry again. I worry about you, I really do. Think about your son and the example you’re setting. And think about your health. You want to be around for him, and that stress is toxic. It eats us up inside.”
“Listen, Reena, I only care about Celia’s—”
But the connection was terminated. Reena had had the last word.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Jenna stared at the dead phone in her hand.
She slammed it down against the base. The act gave her little satisfaction. It served only to jar her wrist and leave her with an aching shoulder.
“Fuck.”
Then the doorbell rang.
“Who the hell?”
She remembered she’d ordered pizza. She grabbed her wallet and walked over to the door, pausing to peek through the window, since a murdering lunatic was on the loose in the area.
It wasn’t Stanley’s Pizza.
Even with his back turned, Jenna recognized Ian from his clothes, his hair, his posture. She opened the door and let him in.
• • •
Jenna tried to estimate how many times Ian had been inside her house. She remembered him coming over for a few of Jared’s birthday parties, maybe stopping by to pick up Ursula when Jenna had watched her. But it wasn’t often. No more than ten or fifteen times and probably not once during the previous five years.
He stepped into the living room, his long, lean frame seeming to reach the ceiling. Jenna took a quick look around, seeing the space through his eyes. It was clean and picked up, just like always. And Jared, thank God, hadn’t left any dirty dishes or socks or books on the floor. But it was nothing like what Ian had grown up with or how he lived as an adult. If you looked at the house that way, it suddenly seemed small and insignificant.
“This is kind of a surprise,” she said.
“I know. I realized, well, I didn’t have your number saved in my phone. I could have found it at home, of course, but I wanted to talk to you sooner rather than later.”
Jenna offered him a seat on the couch and asked if he wanted anything to eat or drink. He declined politely, and she told him she had a pizza on the way.
“You know Jared and I do that a lot on Friday nights,” she said. “It’s a tradition. I guess I have to enjoy it before he’s off to college.”
“Maybe Ursula and I need to think of some things we can do like that.” He looked lost in thought for a moment, as though he wanted to formulate a plan for bonding with his daughter right then and there. “It’s tough with a girl. I have to be honest, I don’t even know what she’s into. It was easy when she was little. It was pretty much all princesses and horses.”
“I think . . . maybe you don’t want my advice.”
“No, I do.” He smiled, the light in his eyes flirtatious. “You’re a girl, after all. You’d know.”
