Disappeared

by Lucienne Diver

  Twenty-Two

  Jared

  He’d never really thought Aunt Aggie looked that much like Mom. Not until the shock of her appearance at the police station. She was dirty blonde where Mom was a strawberry blonde, had blue eyes instead of their Mom’s green. She also tended to wear her scrubs even when not working, though then she paired them with jeans instead of drawstring pants. Today, though, she wore a colorful cardigan over a t-shirt without any pattern. No frolicking dogs or kittens chasing yarn or cows jumping over the moon. And she’d done up her face, like she thought you had to get dressed up for the police. Or maybe it was to cover up red, puffy eyes, because looking closely, her eyes were red. And suddenly she reminded him of Mom, so powerfully it was like a mule-kick to the gut.

  Emily ran to her as soon as she opened the door—the police had finally left them alone after they’d dropped the bombshell about Mom. Dad was going to be several more hours, and they had to call someone for them. Emily had insisted on Aunt Aggie, and whether their father relented or was never consulted, Jared didn’t know, but he was glad to see her.

  Aunt Aggie hugged Emily back for all she was worth, then shifted her to one side and held out an arm for Jared. He joined them, hugging both carefully, afraid if he gave in to his emotions, he’d hug too hard. He buried his face in Emily’s shoulder.

  It was Emily who shrugged out of things way too soon, and he realized he’d probably hit her bad shoulder. The one she’d cut.

  “Can we go home?” Emily asked.

  “Absolutely. I think I may have to sign something or … Just give me a minute, and I’ll be right back. I promise.”

  She left, and Jared turned to Emily to finish the conversation they’d been having when Aunt Aggie came in.

  “So Mom found a hair band in their bed? It seems a stretch from that to an affair.”

  “Really? Can you think of another explanation for how it got there?” she challenged. “Apparently, there was other evidence. I don’t know what it was.”

  “What color was the scrunchy you found?”

  “Red.”

  “Mom doesn’t wear red.” Not usually. As a strawberry blonde with a complexion that tended toward the rosy, it emphasized the red in her skin and make her look, she said, like an Oompa Loompa.

  “Exactly.”

  He chewed his lip, because something had occurred to him.

  “But it’s Carla’s signature color.”

  They stared at each other, and he watched the realization hit Emily.

  “And someone in that household ratted us out, told the police I’d dumped that bag in their trash and turned it over to them. But if they saw me, why leave the bag in the can long enough for it to get pecked apart before they removed it?”

  “Maybe they didn’t know what it was you’d done until the birds dragged the bag out and spread the contents all over. And once they saw blood, they probably freaked.”

  “Maybe.” It made sense. He didn’t know if he’d have done the same in their place—reported it to the police rather than asked someone about it directly—but he might have if someone in the Meyers family had gone missing. It didn’t lessen the feeling of betrayal, especially knowing Ms. Carla might have been betraying them and their mother all along.

  The door opened again, and this time Mrs. Wong returned with their aunt to make doubly sure they were okay and that they wanted to leave with her. When they confirmed it, they were released. Emily led the way out, as if she couldn’t wait to get out of the station. He seconded it.

  “Stupid question,” Aunt Aggie said as they walked to her car, “are you kids okay? Do you need anything? Want me to stop anywhere? Are you hungry?”

  Jared didn’t point out that those were multiple questions. Emily got into the back seat of their aunt’s old hatchback, leaving him the shotgun seat. He answered for them both as he got into the front.

  “I don’t know if okay is the word I’d use, but we’re holding it together.” At least he hoped he was answering for them both. “I think we just want to get home. I’m not sure either of us can eat right now, but if we get hungry, maybe we can order in?”

  He looked back at Emily, but she had her eyes closed and was resting her head against the car window, and didn’t notice.

  “I understand.”

  They lapsed into silence as she worried about backing out and then getting out of the station parking lot and onto the road, then she asked. “Did the police tell you anything at all about how she died?”

  “No. Has the news said anymore?”

  “Not that I’ve heard.”

  Silence again.

  He heard movement in the back seat and glanced back again to see that Emily had unbuckled her belt and was now laying across the backseat as best she could, curled up on her side, one hand under her cheek and the other shielding her eyes.

  She barely woke when they got home, and only long enough to shuffle to her room and collapse onto her bed. Jared checked on her about five minutes later, just to be sure … She was snoring faintly, sleeping in the position she’d fallen in, it looked like. He envied her the oblivion.

  Which meant that he was left with Aunt Aggie. Better than being alone right now. Or with Dad, though he felt the pressure to entertain her somehow. Or to play host.

  He offered her something to drink and was getting them both sodas when she asked, “How’s Aaliyah?”

  Right, they hadn’t spoken in a while.

  “Next subject,” he said.

  He was glad he had his back to her so he couldn’t see the sympathy or whatever would be on her face. Anyway … Mom. She was all that mattered right now.

  He didn’t actually wait for Aunt Aggie to come up with a new question. He turned with the sodas in his hand and caught his aunt’s gaze before asking, “Did Mom know who Dad was having an affair with?”

  Her eyes widened. “How do you know about the affair?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He wasn’t going to tell her Emily was talking with strange men in police stations. “We do.”

  She took her soda and sat down at the kitchen table—the same table where they’d been sitting when Dad told them Mom had left them. The pain hit him again, like a blade to the heart. He wanted to collapse to the ground with it, but he couldn’t. The search for the truth had kept him going this far. He had to see it through, wherever it would lead. For Mom.

  “She said it was a neighbor. Someone close. That’s all I know.” It solidified what he already suspected, but it was another blow just the same. The Meyers’ home had been their safe place when their parents had fought. Now he knew it was all a lie. But how could Carla want to be with his father when she saw what he did to their mother? Did she blame the victim, think that Mom must provoke him? Did she think he loved her too much for her to ever be in Mom’s shoes? Did she believe she could change him?

  Was Jared any better, needing to believe his father wasn’t guilty so they could keep their dysfunctional family together? Not necessarily for himself, but for Emily, who still believed in their father, as far as he knew, and who seemed the safest from Dad’s wrath. So far. But what if she went through a rebellious period or started reminding him of Mom? Who knew what might set his father off next. He had to know the truth. And he had to do something about it, whatever it was.

  “What do you think happened to her?” he asked, the words coming quietly, as though his vocal cords could hardly stand to let them lose into the world.

  Aunt Aggie took a sip of her soda. Stalling. Then she said, “I don’t know. I don’t want to speculate. But, I do want you and Emily to know you can come live with me. I’ll get a bigger place. You’d have to change schools, but—”

  Jared was shaking his head. Panic had started welling up at the thought, and he didn’t do panic. He couldn’t. He was afraid if he started right now he might not stop. It was all too much. “I can’t think about that right now,” he said quickly.

  “Of course. I just wanted you to know the offer is there,
so you wouldn’t worry.”

  In case his father was arrested. That’s what she meant. In case his father had murdered their mother.

  “Listen, I really appreciate you picking us up at the station and … everything. But it’s been a really horrible day. I need to check on Emily and then I just want to go and lie down. I hate to leave you alone out here.…”

  He spotted the tears his aunt wasn’t allowing to fall. He was so stupid. He’d only been thinking about his own pain, but Aunt Aggie had lost her sister. They’d been together their entire lives, and alone since Pops had died of pancreatic cancer four years ago, almost a year to the date after G-ma had gone. He and Emily were all she had left.

  He got up from his seat and went around to hers, hugging her from behind. She held onto his arms where they wrapped around her, and he felt the tears start to fall.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, releasing him to try to stem the tears with her hands. “I told myself I had to keep it together for you, and you’re the one comforting me.”

  He hugged her a little harder, then released her to pull up the next chair over and sit beside her rather than loom behind. He put an arm around her, resting his head on her shoulder. Her tears were making others prickle behind his eyes, but he wasn’t going to give in to them.

  She sniffled and let things go that way for another minute, then she gave him a watery smile and rose to find tissues. “I’m okay,” she said, even though she wasn’t. None of them were. “You go check on Emily. Lay down. I’ll be fine. I’m going to turn on the news, in case they release anything before the police see fit to tell us. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

  He stared after her. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  He took her at her word. He had a burning need to check on Emily again, not only to see that she was still okay, though that was his main concern, but because he needed her phone. Aaliyah had to know what was going on. Not because it would bring her back, but because she’d known and liked his mother. Mom had liked her too. He didn’t want her to hear it on the news.

  Emily was still sleeping in the same position. He took a second to watch her, knowing she wouldn’t wake. That would take an act of god. She looked so peaceful in sleep. He wished it would last when she was awake.

  He found her backpack where she’d thrown it onto her dresser and dug through it for her phone. He knew her numerical password, and keyed it in. He thought he’d have trouble figuring out what to say to Aaliyah, especially since Maybell would be the one relaying the message, but he didn’t.

  I’d call with this news if I could, or better yet, tell you in person, but since I can’t … I didn’t want you to hear this on the news instead of from me. They found Mom’s body this morning. I guess the car at the train station was meant to throw us off. I wish … so many things. But anyway, I wanted you to know.

  He wished he could hold her, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t, so what was the use. It wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make things all better, but if he still had Aaliyah, something positive in his life, maybe he wouldn’t feel so lost and hopeless right now.

  Twenty-Three

  Jared

  Dad sent them to school on Monday—afraid, he said, that otherwise they’d have nothing to do all day but dwell on their sadness. They needed distractions. They needed their friends.

  It didn’t go well.

  Jared nearly got into a fight when Andrew Meyers veered from his usual path to tell him how sorry he was to hear about their mother. Jared wanted to punch him. He didn’t even know why. Maybe he just wanted to punch something. Maybe it was because Andrew didn’t look sorry, but then why even make the effort. Was he looking for Jared’s reaction? Did he know about his mother and Jared’s father? Was he sorry Jared’s mom was gone because it freed up the field? What would happen now? Would Carla leave Mr. Meyers and Andrew like their mother had left them? No, not like that. Mom had always planned to come back until someone made sure that wasn’t possible. That’s what Richard Travis had told Emily, and Jared had to believe that.

  He clenched his fists hard, but didn’t use them. Andrew walked away unscathed.

  But it was a near thing, and getting nearer with every stare, every whisper, every expression of sympathy. He wanted to shout at everyone to stop. Just stop. But the worst was, he almost hoped they didn’t, because he wanted to lash out. One stupid comment or someone staring too long, and he would throw down. He had so much pent up anger—at his father, at himself, at all the assholes who couldn’t understand how someone else was feeling and leave him the hell alone.

  He had to go. If he stayed, he was going to hit something. Someone. And he couldn’t. He’d be no better than Dad. The thought killed him. He had to get counseling. Or something. Because pushing the feelings down only made them build up until he risked an explosion. Maybe Aaliyah was right to leave him. Maybe he wasn’t safe to be around. The thought sent him to the office, where he saw Emily sitting on one of the four chairs in the waiting area while a teacher talked to the woman at the desk.

  Emily didn’t even look up at him, but slumped in on herself. And that was when he realized they were two sides of the same coin. When things went bad, Jared wanted to lash out. At Mom. At Dad. At anyone in his way. Emily turned inward, beat herself up. Self-destructed. She kept the peace for everyone but herself. Dad had messed them up but good.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  She finally glanced up, and he could see that she was done in. Her face was red and blotchy from crying, her face bone white. She didn’t even have it in her to respond.

  Jared turned to the counter and interrupted the teacher, though he did at least say “excuse me.” She went silent at the disruption. “We need to go home,” he said. “Emily and I. We shouldn’t have come. It’s too soon.” Dad was their guardian. He was the only one the school could call. Jared had no idea how he’d react. He didn’t really care. He’d leave with Emily right now if he had to, even if it meant they were marked as skips and had to walk all the long way home. “Can you call our father?”

  The teacher put a hand to his shoulder. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mother,” she said.

  If he heard it one more time he was going to explode.

  “I’m Ms. Castillo, your sister’s Language Arts teacher. I brought Emily in because I’m concerned about her. I thought maybe she could see a counselor. Maybe you want to see one too?”

  He’d just been thinking he needed to see someone. But not now. Not here. Not anything that might get into his school record and mess up his chances for college and escape. But would it help Emily?

  “Jared,” Emily said, finally rousing herself. “I want to go home.”

  “You don’t want to see a counselor?”

  She shook her head. “I want to go home and sleep.”

  “Can I talk to you?” Ms. Castillo said to Jared. “In private. Just for a minute?”

  He looked at Emily, whose eyes pleaded with him to get her out of there, and said. “Give me a second.”

  Ms. Castillo took him off to the far corner of the office, in plain sight, but hopefully out of earshot of Emily and the office assistant.

  “I’m worried about your sister,” she said. “She’s showing signs of depression.”

  He was confused. “We’ve just lost our mother. She’s grieving. Isn’t that natural?”

  “I mean even before that. She’s been distracted. Some of her poetry has been very dark, and today she can’t stop crying. I don’t want to criticize your father, but I don’t know what he was thinking sending you back to school so soon. The school district has a special counselor we share among schools. We’re lucky enough that she’s here Monday and Thursday afternoons. I was hoping to get Emily in to see her.”

  “I don’t think one meeting is going to help her. She wants to get home, and, honestly, so do I. We need each other right now more than anything. I’ll talk counseling over with her and my father,
I promise.”

  She didn’t look satisfied with that. Not at all. “Please do. Your sister is so bright and talented, but she’s tormented.”

  I know, better than you think. But he didn’t say it. He didn’t think Emily would want to talk with a counselor. Therapy couldn’t help if you weren’t honest, right? And Emily couldn’t afford to be honest. Not with her secret. Yet there had to be a way. People got help.

  Emily

  The rest of the week was a blur. Emily slept a lot, aware once or twice of Jared checking on her as she was on the edge of sleep—just falling or just waking up. She was going to scream if he didn’t stop watching her like a hawk. Or if he asked one more time whether she was okay.

  Dad was out so much, talking to the police, checking in at his office, making arrangements for Mom’s funeral pending the eventual release of her body that he finally had to let Jared and Emily stay by themselves. He didn’t make them go to school. Not until Thursday when he and his lawyer were going down to the police station. It sounded like he expected to be there all day. Thursday he wanted them at school—at the very least, to make up any tests and missed assignments and get a schedule of upcoming work so they wouldn’t fall behind, since he didn’t know what was to come.

  That sounded ominous.

  It felt like the police were closing in on Dad, and Emily didn’t know what to think. If he did it, she wanted him in jail, but if he didn’t … She still couldn’t imagine it. As bad as it ever got, she couldn’t imagine him killing Mom. Killing anyone. But weren’t the families always surprised? How many stories were there about spouses or kids sticking by their husband or wife or father or whoever? No one wanted to believe. She knew she didn’t.

  Jared had finally told her about what he heard the night Mom disappeared. He hadn’t wanted to worry her, but knew it might come up in the questioning or, worse, the trial if it came to that. He wanted her to hear it from him. She’d noticed Dad treating Jared differently. Ice-coldly. She wondered whether it already had come up. Really, Dad was hardly saying anything to either one of them. He was distracted and distant. As much as Emily wanted her mother back, she wasn’t sure she felt the same way about her father. The only thing she knew was that if her father hadn’t hurt their mother to begin with, she’d never have left. She’d have been home and safe and alive. Maybe Dad wasn’t the only one who’d gone distant.