Since She Went Away

by David Bell

  Then the reporters tried her, asking for her comments on the, as they put it, bizarre turn of events. His mom refused to comment, except to remind the reporters that a family in town had suffered a terrible loss and everyone should be thinking about them.

  She also called the police, asking Detective Poole to send someone around to shoo the reporters away. A patrol car arrived, and two beefy cops in dark jackets, their badges and shiny zippers visible from the house, stepped out. They smiled as they talked to the reporters, but Jared could tell they were trying to get them to leave. The reporters kept pointing at the house, and he could imagine the case they were making. The public’s right to know. The first amendment.

  The reporters moved back to the property line, but they didn’t leave. Jared considered it a small victory.

  He tried to concentrate on school. He worked ahead in his classes, tackling the readings and assignments for the next day and the day after that. But he had a hard time getting anything accomplished. His mom buzzed around the house, cleaning the kitchen floor and then the bathrooms, her usual routine when something was bothering her that she couldn’t do anything about.

  Around noon, Detective Poole called and suggested Jared and his mom put out a statement, something asking for privacy and referring all future questions to the police. So they did, hoping everything would calm down.

  Jared’s phone pinged all day. His closest friends called and texted, and then kids he barely knew wrote to him through e-mail and social media. The friends wanted to know how he was doing. The acquaintances said all kinds of things. They wanted to know how bad the body smelled or why weird shit kept happening to his family.

  He heard his mom talking to his grandma. He knew what Grandma was saying. The old lady was like clockwork with her complaints.

  How do you expect to raise a child with the police there all the time?

  Jared didn’t know how his mom put up with it. And he didn’t know how she turned out so well adjusted with his grandma for a mother.

  He also tried to ease off on feeling too sorry for himself or thinking of himself as a prisoner. Natalie had been a prisoner of some kind. He’d seen the lock on the outside of her door. He knew the strict curfew she lived under. And her father had simply taken her away, swept her up and out of town. Back on the run. If she was lucky. If something worse hadn’t happened to her.

  Could his first love really end that way?

  • • •

  Shortly after dinner, while the reporters were still out on the lawn but seemed to be wrapping up after doing some kind of live shot of their house for the evening broadcasts, his mom retreated to her office. Jared sat in the kitchen picking at the remains of the leftover spaghetti he’d heated in the microwave. His mom said she didn’t have an appetite.

  Jared thought he’d imagined the light knocking against the door. It could have been the house settling or a squirrel running through the gutters.

  But then the knock came again.

  He didn’t bother his mom. He figured it was a rogue reporter, one who hopped the fence into the backyard because he felt bold, hoping to get a scoop by bugging the family while they sat in the kitchen. Jared intended to tell him to get lost, refer him to the statement the police had issued on their behalf.

  He eased the door open.

  Ursula blinked as the light from the kitchen spilled out onto the small back stoop. Jared jumped a little. Hers was the last face he’d expected to see out there.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  Ursula raised her finger to her lips. “I need you,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “Someone needs to talk to you.”

  “Who?”

  “Look, can you just come out? There aren’t any reporters back here. We can cut through the yard behind us and talk to my friend. It won’t take long.”

  “Who is your friend?” Jared asked, his heart rate rising a little with anticipation.

  Ursula looked past him into the brightly lit kitchen. She took the whole scene in—the cramped space, the out-of-date table, the plate of spaghetti. Then she looked at Jared again. “Get your coat if you want. It’s kind of cold.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Jared stepped into the backyard, the stiff frozen grass crunching under his feet. He looked around and didn’t see Ursula.

  He walked toward the back of their property to the chain-link fence bordering the neighbor’s yard. Someone emerged from the darkness. It was Ursula. She stood in the neighbor’s yard, her hands dangling at her sides. Jared found the way she stood—hips cocked, chin up—attractive, and he wished he didn’t. Seeing Ursula that way made him feel like a little kid again.

  And he thought of Natalie. He really missed Natalie.

  “Climb over,” she said. “It’s easy.”

  “I know. I’ve done it a million times in my life.”

  When they’d first moved in, a family with two sons around his age lived behind them. Jared used to climb the fence whenever they were out in their yard, and the three of them ran around playing football and war and hide-and-seek until the family moved away, the dad having taken a job in Pennsylvania. Jared couldn’t remember if he’d even said good-bye to them. There seemed to be a lot of that going around.

  He easily scaled the fence and landed next to Ursula. She didn’t look at him or say anything. She just started walking, heading for the front of the neighbor’s house and the street that ran parallel to Jared’s.

  Jared watched the way Ursula’s hips moved as she walked, her jeans fitting her shapely body perfectly. No surprise. She’d have the best of the best. The best-fitting clothes, the most expensive brands.

  They reached the next street, and Ursula turned to the left. A black SUV sat at the curb, its parking lights burning in the dark. Ursula walked over and tugged open the passenger-side door.

  “Go ahead,” she said, sweeping her arm like a game show hostess.

  In the glow of the dome light, Jared saw Bobby Allen.

  Jared climbed in. Ursula pulled open the rear door and came inside, a gust of cool air following her. In the faint glow from the dashboard, Bobby looked tired. His eyes were red, his mouth turned down.

  “I’m sorry, Bobby.”

  Bobby nodded. He took a deep breath, his broad shoulders rising and falling beneath his coat. They were the first words Jared had spoken to Bobby since they’d played soccer together.

  The car’s engine hummed. It was warm in the cabin, the soft rush of heat coming out of the vents. Jared loosened the top buttons on his coat, letting the heat dig in against his body. Bobby didn’t look at him. He stared straight ahead, as if something were coming down the street at him. Jared even turned and looked through the windshield, but the horizon was empty and quiet.

  “Are you going to ask him?” Ursula said from behind.

  Bobby didn’t move when she spoke, but his eyes narrowed just a bit as though her question annoyed him. Jared wanted to know if the two of them were dating, or did Ursula even confine herself to just one boyfriend at a time? He knew a lot of kids at school were like that, even though he’d been content with just the one person in his life. Natalie.

  “I want to know what it was like,” Bobby said. “Seeing my old man that way.” He took another deep breath, this one shuddering a little as if he might be about to cry. But no tears came, and Bobby collected himself. “Somebody bashed his fucking head in. It’s a shitty way to die, and I just want to know what you saw.”

  Jared hadn’t expected that. His mind raced as he searched for the proper response. “Are you sure—”

  “He’s sure,” Ursula said. “We talked about it all day. Just tell him what you saw. You don’t have to pull any punches.”

  Jared hesitated. Then he said, “I didn’t see too much. It was dark. He, your dad, was on the floor in the living room. On his back by the TV. I could tell he was
n’t breathing, and . . . there was a pool of blood around his head. I didn’t get close and look. If I’d seen his face clearly, I would have recognized him as your dad. I remember him from when we were kids. But I left. The cops showed me a picture and told me who he was.”

  “So you didn’t see his face?”

  “Not really. Like I said, it was dark.”

  “Could you tell if he suffered?” Bobby asked.

  Jared knew what the right thing to say was. “I bet not. With the way he was lying there, and the blood on the floor, he probably got hit pretty hard. He was probably out right away.”

  “Did he smell?” Ursula asked.

  Jared turned a little, but knew he couldn’t see Ursula since she was sitting right behind him. So he looked at Bobby. “Yeah, it smelled. It smelled pretty bad. I had to put my sweatshirt over my face. You know, when people die . . .”

  “They shit themselves,” Ursula said.

  Bobby winced a little, as if he’d felt a sharp pain in his stomach.

  “I’m sorry,” Jared said.

  “I asked,” he said.

  “I went over there once, a few days ago, and the neighbor next door told me that he’d seen a guy in a suit going into the house. And then he thought he heard people arguing. Maybe that was your dad going in.”

  “Probably was,” Bobby said.

  “He doesn’t know anything, Bobby,” Ursula said, sounding bored. “Can he go?”

  Bobby held out his hand, and Jared shook it. “Thanks, man,” Bobby said. “I appreciate it.”

  “I want to ask you something,” Jared said.

  His hand slipped out of Bobby’s. Bobby nodded, indicating he could go on.

  “Do you know what your dad had to do with Tabitha’s dad?” Jared asked. “Why was he there at all? They don’t seem like they travel in the same circles.”

  Bobby said, “I don’t know exactly. That lunatic, Mr. Burke or Mr. Rose or whoever he is, did some kind of work for my dad a few years ago. I kind of remember hearing my dad say his name. Then Dad said something about him coming back to town and they were working together again, although Dad acted kind of weird about it, like he didn’t want to say too much.”

  “Mr. Rose was here a few years ago?” Jared asked.

  “Yeah. He’s one of those guys who comes and goes. My dad once said he was rootless.”

  “But you don’t know what kind of work he did?” Jared asked.

  “No, I don’t. Something at the plant, but I don’t know what.”

  “I think it was something illegal,” Ursula said. “Why else would he kill your dad? Somebody had dirt on somebody.”

  “The point is I don’t know,” Bobby said, speaking to Ursula’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “Neither do the cops. Not yet anyway.” He turned to Jared. “Do you know what he did for a living? Did he ever say?”

  “I never really talked to him. I never formally met him. The first time I ever set foot in the house was when I found your dad.”

  Bobby nodded as though some profound truth had just been confirmed. “Well, I’m sorry about Tabitha. Or . . . what’s her real name?”

  “Natalie,” Jared said.

  “I’m sorry about Natalie.” They shook hands again. “The whole town’s kind of gone crazy. I hope they find her.”

  He turned and stared out the window, his gaze distant and unfocused. Jared wondered if he was remembering something about his dad, some happy childhood memory like a Christmas morning or learning to ride a bike. Or was he focusing on the bad stuff? Stuff like the soccer game or whatever he was involved in with Natalie’s dad? When his own dad left the family, Jared spent a lot of time thinking about the good stuff. Times they’d gone for car rides together or played a game. And then the more time went by, he stopped thinking about him much at all. It was hard to remember any of the good stuff.

  “I have to get back to my mom,” Bobby said.

  “Sure,” Jared said. “Take care.”

  “If you hear anything,” Bobby said, “will you let us know?”

  “I will.”

  He stepped out into the cold, expecting Ursula to move to the front seat, but she didn’t budge. He shut the door and watched them drive off.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Sally insisted on getting a drink after work. A couple of days had passed since the revelations about Natalie and William Rose broke. The news media and the cops seemed to be stuck in a loop, running on a wheel like hamsters. No additional credible sightings of them came in. No one saw Natalie anywhere.

  They drove in Sally’s car to Haley’s Taproom, a bit of a dive in a strip mall near the office. The place was rarely crowded, and the owner kept the lights down low. No one had to make eye contact in Haley’s. No doubt most of the patrons didn’t want to.

  Sally went to the bar and brought back two bottles of beer. Budweiser. Cheap. Jenna took a long swallow, and it tasted like liquid heaven. She enjoyed the sting of the alcohol against the back of her throat, the tingling in her bloodstream as the buzz started.

  “I shouldn’t be here,” she said.

  “Why not? You’ve earned a drink. And so have I.”

  “I should be home with Jared.”

  “I thought you called him,” Sally said.

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “And he’s home,” Jenna said. “His friend Syd came over. They’re playing video games.”

  “And probably looking at porn. Normal boy stuff.”

  “Sally, that’s gross.”

  “Honey, every boy does it. They can’t get enough of the stuff.”

  “Not Jared.”

  Sally raised her eyes. “All of them, Jenna. Even the pope. All of them.”

  Jenna took another drink. She’d spent the week lying low at work, trying to stay out of the way of patients who had once again seen her all over the news. She wished more than anything her life could return to being normal. No chance of that, she thought. No chance of that any time soon.

  “See,” Sally said, “you wanted that beer. And to think you said you didn’t want to come out.”

  “You’re right.”

  And Sally was. She always was. It felt good to get out of the house and away from work, to go somewhere and not talk about any crimes. Jenna wasn’t naive. She knew everyone in that bar had heard of Celia and Holly and Natalie. She felt certain some of them recognized her, if not from before, then certainly from the previous few days of coverage. Local and national news talked about the cases, covering every angle. And speculation ran wild that everything was related.

  “Jared’s doing okay otherwise?” Sally asked. “I know he got his little heart broken, and now this with the girl . . .”

  “He’s doing fine,” Jenna said. “I’m sure he’s talking to his friends about it.”

  “Boys talking about feelings?” Sally said. “Playing video games together is as much as you’ll get. They aren’t going to talk.”

  “Maybe. He hasn’t said much to me. I think I need to get him in to see a therapist. He’s a teenager, and he’s dealing with all this.”

  “Has he been having nightmares?” Sally asked.

  “Not that I can tell. He isn’t eating as much. He’s a little down, a little distracted. I’m walking a tightrope here. I don’t want to keep asking and push him away, but I don’t want to ignore him.”

  “He’ll talk when he’s ready,” Sally said, her voice certain. “I’m sure he’s just glad to have you around and to know you care as much as you do. Really. If he feels loved, he’s doing okay.”

  “I hope he does.”

  “He does.” Sally emptied her beer and without asking went to the bar for more. She also brought back two shots. Kamikazes by the looks of them. “Drink up.”

  “Sally, what are you trying to do?”

&
nbsp; “We’re not driving for a while.”

  “All I’d need right now is to get pulled over or arrested for public drunkenness on top of everything else. That would enhance the story.”

  “You see that guy over there?” Sally pointed at an overweight man with a walrus mustache and a leather wallet on a chain. His belly had slipped out from beneath his shirt, exposing a pale roll of fat.

  “What about him?” Jenna’s nose curled.

  “He’s going to take you home.”

  They laughed, and then they threw back the shots. Jenna felt good. Really good. Better than she deserved to. She also felt her tongue loosening, even more than usual. She wanted to talk to Sally, to say some things out loud she hadn’t said to anybody.

  Sally seemed to read her mind. Her face grew a little more serious, and she said, “I’m really wondering how you’re doing. That’s what we’re here for. Your therapy.”

  “All I need is alcohol,” Jenna said, pushing aside her pledge to drink less. The alcohol made her feel philosophical, expansive. She asked, “Do you ever wonder about all the paths you didn’t follow in your life?”

  Sally’s look told Jenna there were too many unwalked paths to ever think about all of them. “Where did that come from?”

  “All of this. Everything. Thinking about Celia so much, seeing Jared growing up, it’s all making me feel old.”

  “What does that make me? I’m ten years older than you.”

  Jenna stared at her bottle of beer, the faint light from above reflecting dully off the brown bottle. “Did I ever tell you Ian and I were almost an item in high school? This was before he started dating Celia.”

  “You told me once. You made it sound like Celia swooped in and took him away from you.”

  “She did. It was no big deal. It was inevitable in a way.”

  “No big deal?” Sally said. “It seemed like a big deal when you told me about it the first time.”

  “It did?”

  “I think it was a couple of months ago. We were talking after happy hour one night, maybe at the Downtowner. You still sounded pissed.”