Sheep's Clothing

by Josi Kilpack

  “I’ve been thinking,” Harrison said.

  Monique didn’t respond.

  “Remember that insurance policy we had on the kids? If any of them died before eighteen, there was a fifteen thousand dollar benefit to help with expenses.”

  Monique winced inside. She never wanted to make money off of her children. “I don’t want to talk about this,” she said, and her voice sounded weak. She pulled the blankets farther up to her chin.

  “I know you don’t,” Harrison said with tenderness. “But I need your permission for something.”

  Monique opened her eyes. “My permission?”

  “The police are investigating this on their end, but we all know that the chances of solving this are slim. Just getting her information listed on their databases takes several days. It’s been six months. It involves two countries. And Karl, Jamie, and I are having a hard time sitting here doing nothing. We’ve used up all our waiting.” Monique kept it to herself that she had no problem doing nothing. She was becoming quite comfortable with it.

  Harrison continued, “After the funeral yesterday Karl started designing a website of some kind—a website about finding Terrezza’s killer. He suggested an idea where we buy space on certain Internet listing sites—search engines, I think he called them. We also buy advertising on other websites and send e-mails all over the Internet. I don’t really know if it will do any good, and if Karl weren’t so excited I’d just tell him no. But he’s been working on it all night, and Jamie is on fire about it too. It’s almost like a tribute to their sister.”

  His voice went quiet, and she knew he was remembering all over again. She wished she could forget so that she could remember, instead of marinating in it the way she was.

  Monique said nothing, unable to find an answer. Harrison continued, “But what they want to do isn’t cheap. So I thought maybe we could charge it to our credit cards and then pay it off when we get the insurance.”

  Monique let out a breath and rolled onto her back. “What’s the point? It’s not going to change anything. It’s not going to make this better.”

  Harrison’s eyes filled up, and he looked at his roughened hands. “She was talking to this guy in our own home, Monique. He lured her away from us and killed her. We didn’t know.” He looked at his wife. “We never thought something like that would happen to our kids—in our house.”

  “Please don’t say this is my fault,” Monique whispered, clenching her eyes closed. The tears leaked out anyway. Without knowing it, he’d pierced her deepest fear, the thing that had sent her spiraling so fast. It was one thing when she thought Terrezza had just left. It was quite another to realize she’d been seduced while Monique watched Dr. Phil or washed dishes. She should have known what was happening—especially after the problems Terrezza had had. Monique should have paid more attention. “Don’t you think I’ve thought of that? Don’t you think I could just die for not knowing?”

  Harrison turned and placed his hands on either side of her face. She tried to avoid his eyes, not wanting to connect with him that way, but she couldn’t help it. His face was soft, his furrowed brows creasing his forehead. His eyes were like melted chocolate and she felt captured by them—like she’d always been. For all his hardness, his quiet presence, he was soft as butter on the inside and she knew this was tearing him up just like her—even if he could push through it and still be functional. “It’s not our fault,” he said in slow, calculated tones. “You are a wonderful mother, and Terrezza loved you.”

  Monique closed her eyes and shook her head. “Not good enough,” she whimpered. “I should have known.”

  “This man knew what he was doing, Monique. We were all blindsided—even Terrezza. But someone out there has to know something, and if we start asking questions, maybe we’ll find answers. Maybe we can find a little peace.”

  Monique started to sob, unable to think about any of it. Harrison reached out and gathered her into his arms, rocking back and forth for what felt like hours. She clung to him like she never had before and gave into the full heartbreak of her loss. Even when she’d considered Terrezza never coming home—even when she’d thought that something horrible may have happened—she’d had no idea it would hurt this much. How could she possibly know? And how could she be expected to move on?

  56

  By the time they pulled up outside the cabin, Jess had managed to work herself into a sitting position, though her muscles were still slow in responding to her commands. Inside she felt panicked, but outside she showed very little. She didn’t know what was happening, but she was scared and didn’t want to make Colt’s uncle mad. As they drove he’d talked about how Colt hadn’t been able to travel after spraining his ankle, so they’d changed the plan. He said he’d talked to her parents this morning and that they said it was okay. She knew that wasn’t true, but she desperately wanted to talk to Colt. He would help this make sense, she would make him take her home, and then . . . then she didn’t know what would happen. But Colt would help her. It was all the hope she had.

  As soon as the car stopped she opened the door and moved toward the cabin as fast as her heavy legs would allow. The door was locked, and she banged on it. “Colt!” she shouted, her voice cracking. Colt’s uncle came up behind her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she pulled away, shrinking from him and wiping at her eyes. Her parents knew she was gone. They had probably found the note. Was that why Colt had told her to write it? Was that why he was so insistent? But he hadn’t hurt his ankle until Monday, and he had told her to leave the note days before that. Nothing made sense. She had to talk to him.

  Her breathing was fast and shallow, and she looked around while Colt’s uncle unlocked the door. They were in the mountains, surrounded by tall trees and low-growing grasses. It was cold despite the sunshine, and she was shivering. She wrapped her arms around herself and began shaking.

  Run, a voice said in her mind. Don’t go inside. She looked at the door. Colt’s uncle opened it, looked at her with an expectant expression, and stepped inside, leaving her outside alone.

  Run, the voice said again, just as Colt’s uncle said, “We’re back, Colt, you need to explain things to her.”

  Jess looked at the road one last time; then she looked at the door of the cabin. Colt was in there. He’d explain everything, and she didn’t know what else to do. If she ran, where would she go? And could she run? Was her body up to it? Colt’s uncle hadn’t explained that, why she felt so weird, and she hadn’t dared ask questions. But Colt loved her, and even though things were so messed up, she couldn’t figure it out on her own.

  She made an instant decision to talk to Colt first, to convince him that she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t stay in a cabin in the mountains. She had to go home. He would help her. She knew he would.

  When she stepped into the cabin, it was dark—all the blinds were pulled shut. She peered into the darkness and took two steps inside. “Colt,” she said, her voice shaking, “you have to take me home.”

  Silence.

  The door slammed behind her and she jumped, turning around to see the shape of Colt’s uncle in the darkness. She heard him latch the chain on the door. She scanned the room again, her heart thundering in her chest, her stomach feeling like she was going to throw up. “Colt?” she asked again as tears again overflowed. But there was no one else in the cabin. No Colt.

  A sob broke from her chest as she wildly tried to make sense of this. She stepped away from the man by the door just as he took a step toward her. A slice of light from the side of a window crossed his face as he moved forward.

  “Jessie,” he said again, and in that instant she knew. She took a step back and was hit with such intense fear and panic that she felt completely frozen.

  There was no Colt.

  57

  “Look, Daddy!” Justin announced after Brad came in from yet another drive-by scan of the neighborhood, school, and mall. “It’s a flower.”

  Brad looked down at the bla
ck and brown mottled picture and managed a small smile. “It’s very nice,” Brad said, ruffling his son’s hair and leaning in to kiss his head. When he stood again, he turned to look out the window. His thoughts seemed far away.

  Kate’s heart ached, but she didn’t give into it. She knew that the best thing to do was keep life as normal as possible for the other kids. Showing her own panic would undo everyone else. She couldn’t take the risk. What good could she do if she was a basket case?

  “You’re making dinner?” Brad asked as he watched her put together the enchilada filling.

  “We have to eat,” Kate said. And she needed to stay busy. Kate continued what she was doing while he paced, stopping to look out one window then walking to the next and stopping before moving on to another.

  “I think I’m going to call the police again.”

  “Again?” Kate asked, looking up from her task of spooning enchilada filling into tortillas. “You already called them?” The chill of embarrassment seized her again. Wasn’t Brad the least bit hesitant to share this?

  “I called them once, and they said they don’t come out for runaways until the second day. I should never have told them about the note. I think that’s why they won’t take it serious.”

  “So why call them again?”

  Brad shrugged in a helpless way. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “I just . . . need to do something. Maybe if I make a big enough deal about it they’ll come out.”

  Kate just nodded. She didn’t know what the right thing to do was, but she couldn’t get over the idea that kids ran away from screwed up homes with screwed up parents.

  “What time is school out?” Brad asked.

  “Three.”

  “Okay,” Brad said with a sharp nod. “I’ll go drive around again, and then I’ll pick up the kids.” Kate watched him leave and felt the tears building up. What she really wanted was for him to hold her, tell her it would be okay and that he’d bring Jess home. But he hadn’t said those things, he hadn’t touched her and Kate didn’t know how to ask.

  The phone rang as soon as the door shut and Kate took a breath and wiped her eyes. It was her mother. Brad had tracked her down at the hotel she and Gary were staying at earlier in the day. Kate hadn’t talked to her yet, but all the fire she’d felt yesterday had disappeared. She didn’t feel . . . anything anymore.

  “No, she’s not back . . . yes . . . no, I don’t need anything . . . please don’t bring dinner . . . I’m okay . . . yeah, I’m sorry about yesterday too . . . okay, I’ll let you know . . . no, I’m fine, really . . . thanks.” She hung up and looked around the house. Everything looked so normal. This was her home, her family—and yet everything was different now. A certain innocence was gone. The house of straw analogy came back and she shuddered. How did this happen?

  She stood there for several seconds, but as soon as she noticed the tears rising again, she shook herself out of her dismal thoughts. She couldn’t break down. The kids needed her strength. Jess, she thought, please come home. Let us talk about this.

  58

  Brad came through the front door at nearly ten. He’d expanded his search area to include much of the west side of the Salt Lake valley and had been gone for nearly two hours. Kate stood up from where she’d been spot-cleaning the carpet and tried to hide what she’d been doing, knowing that Brad was aggravated by her determination to do such mundane things.

  “Anything?” she asked.

  He shook his head and went into their bedroom. Kate returned to her knees and kept scrubbing at the carpet. She was exhausted but knew she couldn’t sleep. She’d fielded phone calls all day from friends and ward members wondering if Jess was home yet. The bishop had come over that evening, then the Relief Society presidency. She’d wanted to scream. Yes, their intentions were good, but it was awfully hard to pretend everything was fine when so many people were so intent to remind her that it wasn’t.

  She’d used everything possible to get the kids to bed—bribery, threats of no TV the next day, ignoring the growing fear taking over her chest cavity, and eventually yelling at them until they gave in. Then she felt horrible for it. She never yelled and hated scaring the kids into obeying her. Marilyn had been doing dishes and took Kate’s place at bedtime without saying a word. Kate wanted to explain herself, but she just went into the living room, wishing the numbness wouldn’t wear off so quickly. Then she saw the spots in the carpet she’d been meaning to get to, so she grabbed a rag and started scrubbing. Now instead of dark spots on the carpet, she had light ones from overdoing it. Marilyn had left half an hour ago, after Kate promised she’d call if they needed anything.

  Brad returned from the bedroom and looked at the carpet. Kate tried to ignore his judgments and sat down on the couch, folding the rag into a tiny square and fantasizing about him pulling her into his arms and forcing her to feel something other than this gnawing fear and compulsion to deny everything. He didn’t.

  “The kids are getting scared,” Kate said, lining up the corners of the fabric, trying to keep her panic in check. She looked up and noticed a nick in the wall, next to the TV. It had been there for months, and she thought maybe if she scooted the TV over it would be hidden. Or should she fill it and repaint?

  “The kids?” Brad asked, looking at her strangely. “What about you?”

  Kate felt tears come to her eyes but continued looking at the wall, trying to lose herself in something trite and passing. The only other option was obsessing over what had happened, where Jess was, what Kate had missed. “I passed scared a long time ago.”

  Brad came to sit beside her, but they weren’t touching. She kept her hands in her lap, not knowing how to reach out to him. If she sought his affection, his physical comfort, would he judge her for that too? “It’s my fault, isn’t it?” she finally said, daring to shatter the hastily built wall she’d been hiding behind all day. “I thought all this was typical teenage stuff, and now she’s gone.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I can’t believe she did this, Brad.” She looked up at him, begging for some help. He made no reaction. Does that mean he agrees with me? she wondered. He was staring at the wall, maybe thinking the same thing about the nick. He didn’t answer.

  “I’m not so sure she did this,” he said. “It’s something bigger.”

  “Bigger than running away?” Kate asked incredulously, feeling her emotions rise. “Bigger than throwing away everything we’ve done for her, all we’ve taught her her whole life? How can anything be bigger than that, Brad?”

  Brad looked at the floor as if trying to decide whether to argue with her. Evidently he decided against it. “I’m going to go drive around again.”

  He’d been driving all day, but Kate wasn’t about to stop him. It was one thing to blame herself, but quite another to bear the weight of his silent accusation.

  “Are you going to go to bed?” he asked on his way to the door. “You probably should.”

  Kate agreed, she should sleep; but she knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t. Not with so many questions in her mind. “I’ll wait up a little longer.”

  Brad just nodded. “Let me know if she calls.”

  Kate nodded. She could do that. She didn’t watch him leave, just listened to the shutting of the door and tried to keep breathing. In and out, in and out. How had she missed this? What would she do when Jess walked through the door?

  59

  “And you have no idea where she could have gone? She wasn’t behaving strangely? Was she angry about anything?”

  It was almost one in the afternoon, and the three of them—Brad and two police officers—stood in the middle of the living room.

  “Jess and her mother argued the night she left.”

  “About what?”

  Brad relayed the details—the pregnancy, Jess’s reaction, Kate’s attempts to make amends.

  “And where is your wife?”

  “She had some errands to run,” he said, hating how horrible it sounded, as if this kind of thing happ
ened all the time. Kate was certain Jess would be home any time; she felt calling the police was overreacting. But Brad knew something was wrong. He could feel it. Jess didn’t just run away—there was more—and yet he’d searched her room, talked to everyone he could think of, and could find nothing.

  The officer made some notes. “And you’ve called all your daughter’s friends?”

  Brad nodded. “And neighbors and the school. No one knows who Terrezza is. I also drove around the neighborhood, over and over. Jess’s church leader said Jess was upset about something Tuesday night—but she didn’t know what. I can give you her name.”

  “How about the computer? Has she been on more than usual?”

  “Maybe a little,” Brad said. Then he thought about Friday morning. He’d taken Jess’s word about the report she was working on. His stomach sank. “I caught her using an instant-message account on Friday. Is that important?”