Sheep's Clothing

by Josi Kilpack

  Julie waved it off. “Oh, sure, I’m just really glad everything worked out. Funny how that happens, you know, how things just seem to work out.”

  Brad wondered if he’d missed something, but then Julie smiled. “Yeah, it all came together,” he said.

  “You know,” Julie said, watching him so closely that it made him uncomfortable. Did he have something on his face? She was acting kind of funny. “You’re a great father, Brad.”

  Was she flirting with him? “Uh, thanks,” he said, turning back to the car. “I appreciate all your help.”

  “Sure thing,” Julie said. He didn’t turn back. “I’ll have Jess home by eleven.”

  He climbed in the car and reflected on Julie’s strange comments. Then he shook his head. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he and Kate were on the same page again and his little girl was about to have the time of her life—because of him. Queen’s song “We Are the Champions” was playing on the radio. He sang it at the top of his lungs all the way home.

  “No time for losers cause we are the champions . . . of the world.”

  26

  ——Original Message——

  From: jjk_hollywood@hotmail.com

  To: coltinator_51@yahoo.com

  Sent: Friday, April 28, 5:04 PM

  Subject: Spring Fling!!!

  Colt,

  I’m going!! I can hardly believe it. Dad was waiting for me after school and he took me shopping and everything! I’m at Britney’s now and her mom is helping us with our makeup. Can you believe it!! I’ll tell you all about it—I can’t believe I’m going!! Dang, I wish I could tell Emily!! Will you call her for me? She’ll be shocked that my parents gave in on this. I’m so excited!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Laters, Jess

  PS—I’m so sorry I won’t be able to IM with you—but for sure tomorrow, okay? I’ll tell you all about the dance. I sure wish you guys were here though. Wouldn’t that be awesome?

  He read the e-mail and banged his fists on the computer desk, making the laptop bounce and the pen container fall on its side.

  No, no, no—this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, he thought to himself as he jumped to his feet and started pacing, raking his fingers through his thinning hair. “Jess can’t go to the dance. She can’t!” he screamed. His upstairs neighbor stomped on the floor and he swore at her.

  For a moment he pictured his Jessie dressed up and dancing with a boy. It made his stomach tighten, and he clenched his eyes shut against the vision. She wouldn’t dance with anyone, would she? Could she do that to him? He was such a fool to have taken things so slow. She wasn’t dependent enough—she didn’t need him the way he needed her. He ground his teeth and kept pacing back and forth, back and forth, trying to calm himself down but feeling the rage grow and boil inside him.

  How could this happen? She’d been so certain her parents would never let her go—that’s why he’d pushed it so hard, to help her feel angry and cheated. He was prepared to deepen that chasm tonight when she got online while her friends were having a good time. He’d already planned out the perfect things to say. It was going to be a defining moment, and he was the person she would have turned to. He was going to comfort her and make it all better.

  His head began to throb, and he clenched his eyes closed. Janeece, the only other girl he was e-mailing, had become too aggressive, too much like Terrezza—demanding they meet or at least talk on the phone. As if it were up to her. He’d canceled the e-mail address he used for her just this afternoon, relieved that he’d figured her out before things had gone too far. Jess was his only one now—she was his destiny.

  He couldn’t allow anyone to come between them—not after all he’d done to gain her trust, to be everything she wanted and needed. He cursed and kept pacing, trying to calm himself while making plans to step things up. He’d been taking things slow—too slow. It was time to take this seriously. Time for her to see him as more than some boy online. He needed more, he needed her devotion.

  But he had to do it right. He couldn’t scare her away and waste all these months. He dropped back into his chair, his head in his hands, and groaned as he tried to figure out the right way to handle this new development. How could he use it to his benefit?

  Jess, he thought, don’t do this to me.

  27

  ——Original Message——

  From: jjk_hollywood@hotmail.com

  To: coltinator_51@yahoo.com

  Sent: Monday, May 1, 5:17 AM

  Subject: Are you there?

  Colt?

  Are you there? You’ve never taken this long to get back to me—where’ve you been all weekend? It’s Monday morning, everyone is still asleep and I’m waiting to chat with you but you’re not online. Did you get my e-mail about the dance? It was so much fun. The girls from the track team that Britney introduced to me were awesome, and they invited me to come to the track meet this Friday. It’s their final meet of the season and they’ll all be going out to pizza afterward. It was so nice to get to know them—and I wasn’t all tongue-tied either. I think you and Emily have helped me get so much more comfortable with myself. Did you see the new picture on my bored? I’ve never felt so pretty in my whole life.

  Anyway—you’re still not online. Is everything okay?

  I really want to talk to you, I’ve missed you this weekend. Did you tell Emily I got to go?

  Jess

  Monday evening, Monique passed Jamie the plate of lemon chicken. She took a piece and passed it to Harrison, who then passed it to Karl. Next to go around was the broccoli and then the rolls. It had taken several minutes for Monique to decide whether to put a setting at Terrezza’s place tonight or not, but in the end she couldn’t imagine looking at the empty dishes. Not tonight. As Monique oversaw the rotation of the food, she wondered when was the last time they’d had a big dinner like this. Not since Terrezza left—she knew that. But she couldn’t remember when they’d done it last before then.

  Jamie had finished her finals last week and was able to take a few days off from work. Karl agreed to leave his skanky girlfriend at home and lay off the beer long enough for them to get together. The Weatherford family needed to talk.

  “This is delicious, Mom,” Jamie said a few silent minutes into the meal.

  “Thank you, dear,” Monique said, smiling slightly. Monique waited for Harrison to begin talking, and then finally realized he was waiting for her. She carefully laid her fork down on the edge of the plate and cleared her throat.

  “There are some things we need to tell you,” she said, looking at each of her family members in turn. “Some things concerning Terrezza.”

  The speaking of her name caused a heaviness to descend, and the forks stopped moving. After that first meeting with Sergeant Morris, their refusal to accept that Terrezza might be gone had dwindled. They’d been reading past cases, and they knew that no matter how hard they wanted it to be different, they needed to prepare for the very worst. That was why Harrison agreed to spring for a last-minute airline ticket for Jamie to come home, and why Monique insisted that Karl put his anger toward his father aside for one evening.

  “Your father and I have been talking to the police for the last week or so—they’ve reopened Terrezza’s case.”

  “They should never have closed it,” Karl said with a snort, pushing his chair back from the table, but thankfully not standing up or storming off.

  Monique continued. “One of the reasons the police didn’t investigate very deeply was because it seemed as if Terrezza left of her own free will, and with her history. . . . Anyway, it turns out that Terrezza kept notes—lots of notes. E-mails, instant messaging chats—things like that. The police are putting together a time line, but they also created a profile of the person Terrezza was communicating with online.”

  She waited for someone to say something, but no one did, so she took a breath and continued. “He was pretending to be a teenage boy, but they think he was in his forties, from the northeast—maybe Bosto
n or Chicago. He’s likely white, very bright, but with limited social skills and—”

  “I don’t want to know who he is,” Jamie said. “I just . . . I don’t want to think about that. What about Terrezza? What did they say about her?”

  Harrison broke in. “They don’t know.” He shared a look with his wife, and she understood in that moment that he wasn’t going to tell their children the grim expectations the police had related to them. “But the investigation is moving forward—they’re hopeful that if they can get some different people to cooperate, they can make some progress.”

  “People?” Karl asked, his jaw tight as he looked at his father. “Who?”

  Monique answered. “Hotmail, Yahoo—online places that were used as means of communication. They guard their information pretty closely, and in the process they’re protecting this creep. The police are trying to change their minds.”

  She paused and then continued, her voice heated as it had been when Sergeant Morris had explained it. “It makes me sick,” she said. “They have what we need, and they won’t release it.”

  “But we hope that will change,” Harrison added. “She took wonderful notes. That should convince them that this is more important than their privacy agreements.”

  “This is crap,” Karl said suddenly, leaning back in his chair. “It took the cops five months to figure this out? They treated her like a freaking runaway even though we told them that wasn’t what happened.”

  “Actually,” Monique cut in, regretting her own heated emotions. She didn’t want her children to think she wasn’t backing up the police, no matter what her frustrations were. “That is what happened. She met up with this man of her own accord, and we had the program and the notes on our computer this whole time. It was right here.”

  They were all silent again, for nearly two more minutes. “What about Terrezza?” Jamie asked again, blinking her big dark eyes at her mother. “What are they doing to find her?”

  “Well,” Monique said, trying to keep her emotions at bay. “They are certainly looking for her, trying to put the pieces together. But it’s time we—” She looked up into the faces of her grown children. They looked at her with such expectation, such longing for peace. It transported her back to the days when they were young, when she was their world. It seemed so long ago. She met Harrison’s eyes, and that’s when the emotion hit.

  They needed to prepare their other children for what may happen—but it was so hard. The words stuck in her throat.

  “Time we what?” Karl prodded, a hint of challenge in his voice.

  “Time we pray,” Harrison cut in. He reached his hands out to each of his children. His big brown hands were calloused and stained from years of working on engines and rear differentials, yet they looked tender, held out toward his children. After a few moments, Jamie took her father’s hand. Religion hadn’t been a focus of their family, though Harrison and Monique had both attended church growing up. Jamie reached her hand to her mother’s, which Monique gladly took. She stretched her hand out to Karl, her palm facing up. They didn’t speak, and somewhere from the back recesses of her mind came the phrase, “Be still and know that I am God.” The thought tugged at her soul, making her anxious to connect with something bigger than herself, than Terrezza, than any of them.

  Tears fell freely from her eyes as Karl finally lifted his hands, taking hers first and then, with hesitation, grasping his father’s. Harrison immediately wrapped his thick fingers around those of his son and bowed his head. They all followed suit.

  The prayer was not eloquent, and Harrison’s voice was not booming. Rather it was soft and heartfelt. A strange calm descended upon Monique that, for the moment at least, relieved her mind. “Please let Terrezza know, wherever she is, that we love her,” Harrison paused, and she heard him sniffle. Her own tears dripped onto her plate, forming little puddles along the edge. “We love her,” he repeated, “and we miss her so much. Help us to be a family again, and help the police to catch this . . . man. Dear God, we pray, amen.”

  The silence that followed was almost sweet, confusing Monique. How could they feel comforted at such a time? Monique sensed the others felt it too and didn’t want to be the first to break the moment. Maybe it was a sign from God that Terrezza was all right, that she would be coming home.

  “I love you, Terrezza,” Harrison finally said, his voice shaking.

  “I love you too,” Monique chimed in.

  “Love you, sis,” Jamie added.

  Several seconds passed before Karl spoke. “Wherever you are, whatever has happened—I love you, too. Just come back home. Just . . . come back.”

  28

  ——Original Message——

  From: coltinator_51@yahoo.com

  To: jjk_hollywood@hotmail.com

  Sent: Tuesday, May 2, 6:29 PM

  Subject: Things I need to tell you . . .

  Jess—

  Sorry it took me so long to get back to you. I got your e-mail about the dance, but it took me a few days to gather my thoughts. I wish I could say the night was as enjoyable for me as it was for you. I have to tell you that when I read your e-mail I was hurt, not just because I was planning to chat with you but mostly because the idea of you dancing with other boys really brought home just how important you have become to me. I know we’ve only known each other a little while, but this dance made things very clear to me. You’re the kind of girl I could fall in love with, Jess.

  I hope I’m not being too forward, it’s taken me hours to write this e-mail and I understand if you don’t feel the same, but I couldn’t keep my thoughts to myself. After hearing so much about you from Emily for so long, and getting to know you so well, I just can’t help but feel this way. I hope you’ll still talk to me again.

  I can’t believe I’m saying these things. Please don’t tell anyone about me, especially Britney or your parents, I know they won’t understand. The only feelings that matter are yours and mine.

  Love, Colt

  ”Helloooooo?”

  Kate looked up from the book she was reading to Justin, sitting on the living room floor stacking Cheerios, and Chris, asleep in her lap, and smiled. “Marilyn,” she said, feeling instantly calmed by her mother-in-law’s presence.

  Marilyn came into view a moment later as the front door shut behind her. Her silver hair was nicely styled, as always, and her dentured smile was big and bright. Marilyn had always been a breath of fresh air—like the sweet old ladies in fairy tales.

  “Gramma!” Justin yelled, jumping up and running into his grandmother, wrapping his arms around her legs.

  Marilyn grunted at the impact, then mussed up Justin’s hair. He looked up at her, and Kate shifted Chris from her lap so she could stand.

  “What brings you out on a night like this?” Kate asked, embracing Brad’s mother, then pulling back and smiling. It had been raining all day, and since Brad’s father had passed away a few years ago, Marilyn didn’t like driving by herself in “weather.”

  “Frankly, dear, I was worried about you,” Marilyn said with a decisive nod. She had a cloth sack and shifted it from one arm to another while shrugging out of her jacket. Kate was too alarmed by the comment to help her. What did she mean? Why was she worried? Did she know something was wrong? Marilyn could be very insightful.

  Justin let go of his Grandma’s legs and went running downstairs yelling to the other kids that Grandma was there.

  “Kate,” Marilyn said, laying her jacket across the back of the couch and watching her closely. “Is something wrong?”

  Kate smiled again, meeting her mother-in-law’s eye. “Nothing,” she said, perhaps too quickly.

  Marilyn held Kate’s eyes until Kate had to look away. She busied herself with returning to the living room and picking up the Cheerios now scattered across the carpet.

  “Kate,” Marilyn began again, but was cut off by the voices of two more grandchildren—Sharla and Keith—as they ran upstairs. Jess and Caitlyn were still at Mutual.r />
  “Grandma!” they all yelled, and Kate was saved from whatever else Marilyn was going to say. It always amazed Kate how well Marilyn could give each child such individual attention. After a few minutes of listening to the chattering, Marilyn reached into her sack and pulled out a container of ice cream.

  “How about dessert?” she announced. The kids screamed their agreement, waking Chris, whose blue eyes blinked a few times before he too scrambled off the couch. But he ran to Kate, not Grandma, likely in fear of the screams that interrupted his sleep.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Marilyn said, looking at the whimpering toddler as Kate hoisted him into her arms.

  “No problem,” Kate said, smiling. “Ice cream would be wonderful.”