“I don’t know. I guess I felt bad for not liking him the way he likes me. I mean, I like him, but not that way. But it’s not like we could date anyway . . . he’s an adult.”
Leighton nodded her agreement. “So, what did he say when you told him?”
“He just kept asking me to reconsider and wouldn’t stop messaging me. It got to be really annoying, and it really creeped me out.”
“Well, I told you not to get all serious with ChillChat. Just shits and giggles from now on, right?”
Jenna nodded and laughed. Then her expression turned serious again. “Hey, I need to talk to you about something.”
“Okay . . . shoot.”
“I’m so tired of living with my secrets, Leighton. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
“Yeah,” Leighton said with a nod. Then she lit up a cigarette.
“I’m tired of letting it eat me up inside.”
“Do you think it would help if you told someone? You know, like a therapist? Someone who can help you.”
“You’ve helped me, Leighton. You’re the only friend I’ve ever had who I didn’t feel like I had to pretend around. I’m thinking that’s why I told you about Thomas that night in Sticks’ car.”
It had been years since Leighton was close to anyone but Sticks, so the endearing comment made her uncomfortable, and she shifted away from Jenna where they were sitting together on the couch and pretended to check the time on a wall clock in the dining room. Jenna didn’t notice because she was so immersed in the thoughts that had been tumbling around in her head for days.
“Putting aside what he did to me, what if he does it to someone else? Especially with his new position as youth pastor? I can’t let what happened to me happen to anyone else,” Jenna said, shaking her head. “So, I totally agree with you that I need to tell someone else.”
Leighton nodded. “But what are you going to do? Go down to the police station and file a report? Because it’ll be your word against his. And I hate to say this, but they might not believe you. Because of his respected position at the church. And because you waited so long.” Leighton felt like an asshole for bringing these things up, but she didn’t want Jenna to confront Thomas without thinking through what the results could be.
“I know.” Jenna gave Leighton a grateful smile and patted her knee a few times. “I’ve thought about all of that, and I don’t care anymore. But I’m not going to go to the police. I’m going to talk to Thomas and tell him he needs to tell the police what he did to me. And I’m also going to tell him that I told you. Well . . . I won’t say you, but I’ll tell him I told someone. Then if he refuses, I’m going to the police myself.”
“Sounds like you have it all figured out.”
“Yeah, and his wife and daughter are out of town visiting her family in Illinois, so tonight is the perfect night.”
“Jenna,” Leighton says, turning her entire body to face her, “you can’t be serious. Tonight?”
Jenna nodded then looked down at her phone. Leighton watched as she navigated to the His Grace Community website where Thomas’s cell number was listed.
“Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” Leighton asked.
Jenna pressed on Thomas’s number populating it into her caller app. Then she pressed to connect. Her heart was beating so fast she thought she might pass out. And just as she was about to chicken out, he answered.
“Hello, this is Pastor Thomas.”
“Thomas?”
“Yes?”
“Thomas, this is Jenna. Your cousin.” The line went so quiet that Jenna held the phone away from her ear to see if the call was still connected. When she saw it was, she put the phone back to her ear and said, “Hello? Are you still there?”
“Yes. Forgive me for not responding at first. I’m just . . . shocked to hear from you.”
“Yeah, well, you should be.”
“How are you? We haven’t really gotten to talk since I’ve been back.”
Leighton was hanging on Jenna’s every word, so Jenna glanced at her, hoping it would give her strength.
“How am I? How do you think I am?” She sounded way more confident than she felt.
“Jenna, I’m so—”
“Look, I didn’t call you to catch up. I called because there’s something I need to say to you, and I need to say it to you in person.”
“Jenna, I don’t think that’s a—”
“I don’t care what you think, Thomas. I know my mom helped with youth group this week because Audra and Stella are out of town, so we should meet tonight.”
“Jenna, I—”
“At the Walmart on Capitol . . . in the parking lot. Look for my parents’ red Honda Civic. I’ll be there at nine o’clock.”
Again, he didn’t answer, but Jenna didn’t bother checking to see if the call was still connected this time because she could hear his heavy breathing. Finally, when she thought she might have to say what she needed to say over the phone, he responded.
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
Shocked by what she’d just done, Jenna couldn’t answer at first when Leighton asked if Thomas had agreed to meet her.
“Hey,” Leighton snapped her fingers a few times in front of Jenna’s eyes. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“Yeah,” Jenna finally spoke. “He’s meeting me at nine. I want to see his face when I tell him how much I hate his guts and that I’m going to tell everyone what he did to me if he doesn’t turn himself in.”
“You can’t go alone. I should go with you.”
“No. He might leave if he sees you there with me. It’ll be fine. We’re going to be sitting in a busy parking lot so he’s not going to try anything. Besides, my dad keeps pepper spray in the car for me.”
“Okay, well, text me when you’re done.”
“I will.”
Jenna pulled into the Walmart parking lot fifteen minutes before she was supposed to meet Thomas. Even though it had been instilled in Jenna to be early for any appointment, that’s not why she’d allowed herself so much extra time before he arrived. She needed the time to text her friends.
Now that Jenna had taken the biggest step of her life in finally confronting Thomas, she felt the need to come clean to her friends about what she’d been hiding. She wanted them to finally understand why she’d spiraled out of control and destroyed her friendships with them in the process.
First up was Dustin. Jenna had the most to say to him and hoped that they might even be able to meet that night.
Jenna: Can we please talk? Not by text, on the phone or even in person.
Jenna waited a few minutes for Dustin to respond before texting Keeley.
Jenna: Hey Keeley. I need to talk to you about something. Any chance we can get together tomorrow?
Jenna thought for a second before moving on to texting Delaney. There was one more thing she had to say to Keeley.
Jenna: BTW, I miss our runs and I miss you.
Then she texted Delaney.
Jenna: Hey Laney. I could use a haircut so wondering if maybe you’ll be at your mom’s salon tomorrow. I’d also really like to talk to you about something. No, not Dustin. I’m over it. It’s something way more important . . .
After she’d texted her friends, Jenna leaned back in the driver’s seat of her parents’ car and stared up at the light she’d parked under. It reminded her of when she used to wish on stars when she was a kid. It was so silly because the wishes never came true. Even so, as she looked up at the parking lot light, she pretended it was a star. Her phone vibrated right when she’d finished making her wish.
Dustin: Why?
Her heart fluttered, and her palms instantly became sweaty when she saw Dustin had responded. She wanted so badly to see him that night, to get everything off her chest and hopefully start over with him.
Jenna: I need to tell you something important.
Jenna: Something that will help you understand.
Jenna: I’m so sorry for e
verything . . .
Dustin: I’m at a movie so can’t talk now. Can I get back to you in about an hour?
Jenna’s chest deflated, squashing her heart flutters. She realized starting over probably wouldn’t be easy, but she was willing to work just as hard to rebuild the relationships with her friends as she had worked to tear them down. Confronting Thomas would be the first step.
Jenna: Sure.
Just as she hit send, a car pulled up next to her on the passenger side. She forced herself to look over and locked eyes with Thomas. Instead of giving in to her self-preserving impulse to look away, she forced herself to hold his gaze until he was the one to break eye contact. Then, as he turned off his car, she hid pepper spray between her legs.
Thomas opened the passenger door and slid inside the car Jenna had driven there. Without his church clothes on, he looked a lot less intimidating for some reason. Jenna hated how his profession gave him an invisible shield of sorts. They both sat looking out the front window for a few moments before Jenna turned to Thomas and asked, “Why? Why did you do those things to me?”
“Jenna,” he said, turning to face her, “I’m so sorry for what I did to you. You have to believe me.”
“Your apology means nothing to me. Why did you do those things to me?” Jenna asked the question much louder this time.
“I . . . I don’t know.” Thomas gripped his forehead. “There was something wrong with me. I was sick. Trust me, I hate what I did to you, and I swear I’ve confessed my sins to God.”
“Trust you?” Jenna laughed. “I did trust. So did my mom and my dad. So do all the people you preach the word of God to. But you’re such a liar. You lie to people every day just by being you. No one should ever trust you. Not even your wife or your daughter.”
Jenna is taken aback at the groan that escapes Thomas when he begins to cry and covers his face with his hands. But instead of backing off, she keeps right on going.
“I hate you, Thomas. That’s the first reason I wanted to see you in person.” She suddenly realized she hadn’t accomplished one of her goals yet, so she reached out and pulled his hands from his face. As she did this, she screamed, “Look at me!” Then when she was sure he wasn’t going to cover his face again or look away, she repeated it. “I hate you. You ruined my childhood, and you being here now just about ruined my entire life. But I’m going to fix it, starting right here and right now.”
They stared at each other, Jenna’s face fierce and fearless for once, and Thomas’s remorseful and petrified. Jenna couldn’t stop wondering if his silence and timidity was some sort of trick. Was he going to pounce on her? Was he going to grab her hand and try to make her touch him the way he did when she was a little girl? She shook her head to clear it of the poisonous thoughts. When Jenna finally looked away and out the front window, Thomas did the same. Then after a few more moments of silence, he finally spoke.
“I understand why you’re upset, and I truly am sorry. I pray that you can find it in your heart to forgive me someday. I can’t think of any other way to fix what I’ve done, Jenna.”
“I can,” Jenna said, looking over at Thomas. She waited for him to look at her before she continued. “You can turn yourself in.”
“Jenna, I can’t . . .” Thomas’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but no other words came out.
“If you truly want to repent, then you will.”
“Jenna, what about Audra? And Stella? Our lives . . . their lives would be ruined.”
Jenna shook her head. “Yours would, but not theirs. Their lives would be better without you in it, just like mine would have been.”
Thomas clenched his jaw and stared out the front window again.
“If you don’t go to the police station and tell them what you did to me within a week, I’m going to do it for you. I’m done keeping it to myself and letting it poison me. It’s your turn to suffer. Now get out.”
And that was the last time Thomas ever saw Jenna.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Leighton
Saturday, November 4, 2017
Eight Days After Jenna’s Disappearance
Since my mom forgot that I needed a ride over to the Kemps’ house this morning to pick up flyers, I arrive late, and no one is home.
“Thanks a lot, Mom,” I say when I get back in the car. “I should have just walked over.”
“Leighton, I told you I’m sorry. I know this was important to you. How about if we just drive around and look for people passing out flyers? Or is there anyone you can contact to find out where people are?”
That’s actually a good idea, but I won’t admit it to her. “Yeah, I know someone.” I pull up Keeley’s number on my phone.
Even though it’s only been open for thirty minutes, Bayshore Mall is already so busy it makes my skin crawl. But I’ll stomach the crowd if it means finding Jenna.
“Mom, stop. There they are,” I say, pointing to Keeley and Delaney standing on the sidewalk in front of American Eagle. Keeley sees me and waves.
My mom pulls over as close as she can get without blocking traffic. “I’ll find a place to park.”
“What do you mean? Just go.”
“Leighton, I really like your friend Jenna. I’d like to help distribute flyers.”
“Well, you might want to hurry up because I don’t know how long they’ll be standing there or what the game plan is.”
“That’s fine. I’ll find you.” She waves and drives off. If I know her, she’ll park in one of the parking structures to avoid paying for street parking.
When I get to where they’re standing, I get a better view of the square in the middle of the outdoor mall. I hate shopping so the sight makes me want to vomit, but I reign it in for Jenna’s sake. There are no less than twenty stores in our line of sight, and this is only about a quarter of the mall. Keeley said Dustin, Eli, and some of their other friends who I couldn’t care less about are covering the inside portion of the mall, and we’re supposed to meet them all back at the Kemps’ house when we’re done.
“Where do we even start?” I ask.
“We don’t really know, but we have to start somewhere. It’s overwhelming isn’t it?” Delaney says to me.
“Yeah,” I say with a nod. “Just give me some flyers.”
Keeley opens the bag she has slung over her body, pulls out a stack of at least fifty and hands it to me. “Do you want to hand these out to people as they walk by, and Delaney and I can go store to store.”
Not having to go from store to store is music to my ears. “Sure. Sounds like a plan. Let’s just get moving.”
The two of them walk into American Eagle, and I start holding flyers out to people who walk by. I try to, anyway. A lot of people shake their heads and keep walking without even looking to see what I’m trying to give them. It makes me so angry. By the time I see Keeley and Delaney go into their fifth store, I stop trying to push flyers on people, and I just sit down on a bench and look at the flyer on top of the stack in my lap. There’s a big picture of Jenna in the center with the words “MISSING: Jenna Kemp” above it. There’s also a physical description including her height, weight, and the clothes she was last seen in. Also included is her last known location: the Walmart parking lot where she met Thomas. At the bottom of the flyer is Mr. and Mrs. Kemp’s names along with their phone numbers. I’ve seen posters like this before but only in passing. I’ve never once stopped to really look at the people on them.
“Leighton?” my mom says, approaching. “What are you doing? Why aren’t you passing out the flyers?”
“Because it’s pointless. No one is going to look at them.”
“Then you make them look. Just like you tried to make me look at what a jerk your father was years ago.” With that surprising gem of a comment, she begins talking to every person who passes by and making them look at Jenna’s face while she says her name. Some people even take the flyers with them after, and some ask for another to hang where they work or where they wor
k out or where they go to school. Eventually, I’m pushing the flyers on people as hard as my mom is. We do this until our stack is gone.
“There. See? That wasn’t so hard,” my mom says, giving my back a rub.
I resist the urge to pull away from her because I appreciate her help.
When we get to the Kemps’ house, we have to park three houses down near the corner because there are so many other cars lining the street. As Keeley, Delaney, my mom, and I file out of the car, movement in the large picture window at the front of the house on the corner makes me pause.
“That’s just Mr. Fitzgibbons,” Keeley says. “He can be kind of nosey.”
I squint my eyes and can see that a small section of one of the curtains is out of place, and when I look a little harder, I see eyes. Creepy, I think to myself. Then the curtain falls flat again.
“Yeah, his dog usually barks too,” Delaney says. “It must be in the backyard.”
When we get inside, there’s barely any room to stand. People are holding paper plates with pizza on them or cups containing coffee or cans of beer, soda, or sparkling water. It strikes me as odd at first that all these people are here eating and socializing when Jenna still hasn’t come home. But then it occurs to me that no one is talking about anything other than Jenna, newspaper articles and TV news reports about her, or how their search went today. The mood is somber and raw and real. And Jenna would approve.
“Girls! You’re back.” Mrs. Kemp comes rushing toward us and gives each of us a hug, including my mom. I introduce them, and my mom expresses her sympathy, and Jenna’s mom graciously accepts. When we’re all done greeting each other, Mrs. Kemp asks for our checklist of places and adds it to the red folder she’s carrying around. “We’re so thankful to all of you for helping out today. Please, go to the kitchen and help yourselves. There’s plenty.”
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