SPIN

by K. J. Farnham

I close my eyes and take several deep breaths. When I open my eyes, I step around him to head to the stairs and say, “I need to tell both of you at the same time.” But Greg grabs my arm.

  I turn, glancing down at his grip on my wrist. And suddenly I realize I wasn’t imagining that something was off before when he answered the door. Something is very off. “Greg,” I say, shaking my wrist loose. “I need to call Lenore down here.”

  “Please don’t,” he pleads. “Not yet. I need to tell her myself.”

  “What are you talking about, Greg?”

  He gives me a pained look and then squeezes his forehead. “I’m so sorry, Bonnie. Thomas . . . he—”

  “No . . .” I shake my head and back away from my brother-in-law. “No no no no no . . .”

  “Bonnie,” he reaches out to me.

  “How long have you known, Greg? How long!”

  “Bonnie, shhhhh.” He glances toward the stairs.

  “Greg? Is Bonnie here?” My sister comes into view halfway down the stairs. “Oh, hey . . . What’s going on?” She looks from me to her husband, her expression shifting from surprise to confusion.

  “Thomas sexually abused Jenna for years when she was younger,” I blurt, purging myself of the disgusting words.

  Lenore descends the last few stairs, her face contorted into an ugly blend of disbelief and confusion. “What are you talking about, Bonnie?”

  “And Greg knew about it!” I say, pointing at Greg.

  “Have you lost your mind, Bonnie?” Lenore roars. “We’re all worried and stressed about Jenna, but how dare you make accusations like this!” She looks to Greg for backup, but he’s clutching his forehead again, refusing to make eye contact with Lenore or me.

  “Ask him, Lenore. ASK. HIM. Or you can read this,” I say, handing her the copies I’d stopped to make of two of Jenna’s diary entries from August of 2013. Thomas would have been twenty years old at the time.

  “Greg?” Lenore asks weakly as she takes the papers from me. He doesn’t respond right away, so she glances down, and a new crease appears in her brow with each second that ticks by.

  “Thomas confided in me last night after the youth group meeting,” Greg says, his eyes on the papers in Lenore’s hand. “Bonnie,” he says, stepping toward me, an air of desperation in his voice. “He’s so sorry for what he did. Please . . . you need to believe me.”

  I narrow my eyes at him and am about to tell him I don’t care if he’s sorry, but Lenore falls to her knees, and Greg turns from me and rushes to her. Eli and Hannah must have been listening from the top of the stairs because they come rushing to my sister’s side too.

  Oh my, God. Hannah. What if Thomas hurt her too?

  Intent on speaking to Hannah, I approach the four of them huddled together. But I stop dead in my tracks when Lenore mumbles, “Thomas . . . he wouldn’t do something like that. Right? There must be another explanation. Jenna’s an imaginative girl, a creative writer, didn’t she win a writing competition once when she was in fifth grade?”

  “Then why would he turn himself in?” I roar above her disgusting nonsense. “And how dare you insinuate that Jenna would make something like this up!”

  All four sets of eyes, each displaying a different emotion, turn to me: sadness, disbelief, disgust, confusion.

  “No,” Lenore shakes her head. “He didn’t . . . he wouldn’t. Greeeegggg,” she wails, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  As Greg wraps his arms around Lenore, edging out Hannah and Eli. They both stand, Hannah picking up the copies of Jenna’s diary entries. When Eli notices, he snatches them from her grasp. “No! Don’t read those.” His face is grief personified.

  My niece and nephew look at me, Eli with tears trailing down his cheeks and Hannah confused about what she’d just heard about her oldest brother. I wish I could comfort them, but I can’t help feeling like it would be a betrayal to Jenna. So, I turn on them and walk out without another word.

  If Thomas did abuse Hannah, the truth will come out soon enough.

  Chapter Fifty

  Thursday, October 26, 2017

  The Day Before Jenna’s Disappearance

  October 26, 2017

  Dear Diary,

  Sometimes I wish things could go back to the way they were, before Thomas returned. I was still living the same lie back then, but now everything in my life is a mess, not just me. Lately, I’ve been thinking maybe it’s God’s way of making me deal with what Thomas did to me. And maybe it’s His way of pushing me to help others by telling someone what he did to me. I need to make sure he doesn’t hurt Stella, Audra, or anyone else, and I need to make sure he gets what he deserves.

  I’m ready to get my life back together, which means after I take care of Thomas, I have to clean up the messes I’ve made, specifically with Dustin, Keeley, Delaney, and Eli. None of them deserved the way I treated them. Yeah, even Eli.

  Oh, and there is one other mess . . . I don’t know what I was thinking by getting in so deep with Jake B. (I know what you’re thinking . . . I never should have gotten involved with the chat room site in the first place.) Up until this morning, I still planned to meet him tomorrow night at the Holiday Inn on Brown Deer Road, but I called him after school to cancel and tell him that I can’t talk to him anymore. He wasn’t mad about it, but I could tell he was upset. But then he started trying to talk me back into it and says he’ll still go to the hotel room in case I change my mind. And now he’s messaged me like five times to see if there’s any chance I’ll reconsider. It’s really starting to creep me out, and I’m worried about how I told him that I live in the duplex across the street from our house. (He never would have believed a 19-year-old could afford to live alone in a house like my parents’.) I also should never have texted him those selfies. Dumb dumb dumb JENNA! Maybe if he won’t just go away now that I’ve stopped answering his calls and responding to his messages, I can have my number changed. And you can bet if I ever see him in our neighborhood, I’ll tell someone about him. For now, I have more important things to worry about.

  ~Jenna

  By the way – I was wrong when I said everything in my life is a mess because there is one good thing that has come out of all my confusion and chaos: Leighton. Some people may think all the horrible things I’ve done are because of Leighton, but those people are WRONG. None of it had anything to do with her. If anything, she’s helped me, and there’s so much more to her than people know. If I hadn’t had her to talk to, then I probably would never have had the courage to break my silence.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Bonnie

  Friday, November 3, 2017

  One Week After Jenna’s Disappearance

  I’m sitting at the kitchen counter sipping a tumbler of whisky and staring at the stacks of missing person posters Joseph and I just made at the local copy center. One of the machines had gotten a jam, so we called over a service attendant. When she removed the jammed paper from inside and paused to look at it, my heart leapt because I imagined her telling me, “Hey, I just saw this girl.” How sad is that? My daydreams used to consist of family trips to Hawaii or having a private chef, and now they’re made of strangers telling me they recognize my missing daughter. What the attendant really said was, “Would you like me to hang one on the door for you?” I was grateful for her offer, and she followed through right away, but as we walked out the door ten minutes later, it occurred to me most people probably won’t even stop to look. And of the people who do, what are the odds one of them will recognize Jenna? It had to be one in a million. Otherwise, why are the police having such a hard time finding her?

  “Hey, you,” Joseph says in my ear. His freshly grown beard tickles my skin as he kisses my cheek.

  “Hey. How are they?”

  “Oh, you know ten-year-old girls. Giggly, chatty, and shy around other people’s dads.” I think back to Jenna at that age and remember those things about her. It wasn’t constant—preteens have their ups and downs. How did she manage even one giggl
e with what he’d done to her, though? “They’re getting their sleeping bags set up now.”

  Shaina’s birthday had been a few days ago, and we forgot about it. So now her two best friends were spending the night. After a taco bar and ice cream cake, I told the girls they could buy two movies from On Demand, and Joseph and I left to make the copies.

  Joseph takes a seat next to me and places a hand on top of one of the stacks. “So what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

  “I’ve told everyone to be here between eight and nine. I figure as people arrive, they can choose which area they’d like to canvass, then I’ll give them a corresponding list of all the businesses in that particular area.” It had taken me hours to compile spreadsheets of places to post flyers. I don’t want them hung willy-nilly. I want to know where they are, and I want to be able to make notes of where people saw a poster if they happen to call us with a tip. “The kids in pairs or groups or without cars can take the nearby places or shopping strips and the mall. Then everyone is invited back here for pizza.”

  “Still no word from Collins with any updates about Thomas?”

  “No. And still no word on if they’ve found anything of interest in her diaries.” I sigh. “No one had anything new to tell me when I went down there again today. But the desk attendant,” I look over at Joseph, and he nods, “she’s going to help with the posters tomorrow.”

  “Well, that’s something.”

  “Yeah, but it’ll be on her own time. Why does it seem like they aren’t doing anything? Why do I feel like we’re the only people looking for Jenna?”

  Joseph takes a sip of my whisky, which he never drinks. “They are looking, Bonnie. They’ve combed through her social media profiles and followed up on every single connection she made over the past year. And they spent a lot of time interviewing and looking into Jacob Bickers. And now they’re piecing together Thomas’s movements from that night. We might not see it, but they’re looking.”

  “And what about this?” I unlock my phone and slide it in front of him.

  “Don’t read this stuff.” He shakes his head and slides it right back.

  “This police department resource had the nerve to tell this reporter that they haven’t found any evidence of foul play, and they haven’t ruled out the possibility that Jenna ran away. How could that person say such a thing publicly? Don’t you think that plants a seed in people’s minds that there’s no urgency here? That maybe she’s just some troubled teen, especially now that they know what Thomas did to her?”

  “They don’t think that, Bonnie, and even if they do, it’s not their job to pass judgment. It’s their job to find Jenna.”

  “How did I not know? How could I have been so blind? Why didn’t she tell us?”

  Joseph downs the rest of the whisky in my glass. “You’re not the only one who didn’t see it.” He retrieves the whisky bottle from the liquor cabinet and refills my glass.

  “There was this time . . . when she was five or six. I was pregnant with Shaina and taking night classes, and you were working nights with the construction crew. Jenna asked me if maybe someone else besides Thomas could babysit for her. I was busy making dinner and getting lunches ready for the next day, so I was barely listening. I told her no, there wasn’t anyone else. I remember thinking what a convenient setup we had and how inexpensive it was to pay him to sit at our house and do his homework while Jenna watched TV or played with her toys. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked either, but that day she persisted with asking why. I lost my temper and yelled that I didn’t have time to find a different babysitter for her. I just assumed she was bored with him because he was so much older, and she wanted someone who would play Barbies with her. But she was just trying to protect herself. And I’d yelled at her because I was too busy to stop and look at her and actually ask her why she didn’t want Thomas watching her. That was my chance to help her, and I missed it.” I slam my glass of whisky and lower my head to my forearms on the counter.

  Joseph places his hand on my back, and after a bout of silence, he says, “It’s not your fault, Bonnie. We were so busy back then. We barely had time to breathe.”

  “People are going to blame me, though. They’re going to wonder how I didn’t notice what was happening to her at the hands of my own nephew.”

  “I didn’t notice either, Bonnie.”

  I pick my head back up and look over at him. “You don’t understand. You didn’t know Jenna like I did because she wasn’t yours.”

  He removes his hand from my back, slides his chair a few inches away from mine, and averts his gaze away from me.

  “Joseph, I didn’t mean . . . what I meant to say is that you weren’t there for her first four years. So you wouldn’t have noticed any changes in her as easily as I should have.”

  “I know what you meant.”

  I’m about to reach for him, but there’s a knock on the door, and he rushes away to answer it. I hear a woman’s voice at the door, and my first thought is that it’s Lenore since I haven’t been responding to her calls or texts since last night. But then I hear a baby.

  After Joseph passes through the entryway from the back hall into the kitchen, Audra and Stella come into view.

  “Audra,” I say. It’s not a greeting. I’m just surprised to see her.

  “H-hi, Bonnie. I just . . . wanted to apologize . . . for yesterday.”

  “Oh . . . well, thank you. I . . .” I realize Audra must be suffering right now too, just like me. It’s just a different kind of grief. Lenore and Greg too. I pull a chair out for her at the kitchen table. “Come in. Sit. I can’t imagine what this must be like for you.” Joseph and I sit on either side of her. She immediately begins bouncing Stella on her knee. Stella coos and gnaws on her fingers. I remember Jenna doing that when she was a teething baby. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, thank you.” She shakes her head and removes the hat she’s wearing. Her hair looks like it hasn’t been washed for days. This draws my attention to her disheveled clothing. I’ve only ever seen Audra in dresses and pleated pants and skirts, never in sweatpants and faded, stained sweatshirts. And Stella has something orange and crusty on her cheeks and around her mouth. Normally, I would get a wet paper towel and clean her up, but I don’t have time for that right now, not with Audra sitting in front of me.

  “Audra, you told the police Thomas was home with you last Friday night. Was that true? Or did he ask you to say that?”

  Her eyes widen a bit, and I see a flicker of contemplation. After a few seconds, Joseph clears his throat and crosses his arms, and I shift in my seat. Finally, she speaks, but she doesn’t say what we want to hear.

  “Yes, he arrived home around ten thirty. I swear he doesn’t know anything about where Jenna is.”

  Both mine and Joseph’s chests deflate. Joseph stands, and I look back to Audra, ready to console her. She must be devastated about Thomas. But she starts talking again before I have a chance.

  “Thomas is sorry, you know. That’s why he does what he does, bringing people closer to God. It’s his way of repenting for his sins every single day . . .”

  Joseph and I glance at each other, both of us wondering where this is going.

  “Please,” she says, hugging Stella tight, “you have to believe me. He’s not the same person who did those things to Jenna. Please forgive him. Please tell the police that you don’t want to press charges. There has to be a better way to reconcile this.”

  I squeeze my hands into fists under the table, digging my fingernails into my palms.

  “All right,” Joseph roars, “that’s enough. Audra, you need to leave right now.” He stands and holds up his arm indicating she can let herself out.

  I’m just as outraged as he is by what I’m hearing, but she can’t be this naïve.

  “Wait,” I say to Audra as she stands to leave. She looks at me, tears in her eyes. “Audra, do you understand that Thomas raped our daughter?” Her only response is a blink, causing more
tears to fall. Stella starts to fuss, so Audra turns her around to face me. I can’t help but wonder if it’s a ploy for sympathy, so I avoid looking at my great-niece. “Do you understand that even if we did say we didn’t want to press charges, which would be completely insane, it wouldn’t matter. What he did to Jenna is a Class C felony, and he could be sentenced to forty years in prison, whether we press charges or not. Why do you want to protect him? The only person you should be thinking about protecting is that little girl in your arms.”

  “I’m trying to protect her. She needs her father.”

  “Joseph is right. You need to leave right now, Audra.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Friday, October 27, 2017

  The Day of Jenna’s Disappearance

  “So, what’s going on with Jake B?”

  Jenna emitted a sigh that had multiple meanings. When she’d first realized she had to stop talking to Jacob because of the obsession he seemed to be developing for her, she genuinely felt bad—for lying to him about her age, for leading him on with inappropriate talk and selfies, and for accepting the comfort and support he offered. But then when he got upset when she’d canceled their plans to meet in person and wouldn’t stop texting and calling her, she felt scared and stupid for getting involved with him in the first place. Yet, she still felt gratitude toward him for listening to her vent about Thomas and other things in her life that had fallen apart as a result. So, her sigh was one big cluster of emotional chaos that Leighton simply took as the sign of a girl who was done with a guy.

  “Well, I told him yesterday that I had to stop talking to him, and he was pretty upset.”

  “That sucks. Why’d you decide to stop talking to him?”