Sheep's Clothing

by Josi Kilpack

  “She wasn’t supposed to IM?”

  Brad nodded. “She downloaded it without our permission. But after I caught her, we talked about it, and she promised it was just for friends.”

  “How about e-mail?”

  Brad shook his head, then realized that he would have said no to the instant-message question just last week. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. If she was instant messaging behind his back, maybe there was even more going on. He closed his eyes and took a breath he hoped would stave off his panic. Why hadn’t he paid more attention? Especially with the computer. Kate stayed far away from it, but he used a computer all the time. Why hadn’t he installed protective software?

  The officer made some notes. “Can I look at the computer?” He turned to his partner, who so far had remained silent. “Why don’t you go check out the bedroom?”

  “It’s downstairs—last room on the right,” Brad said to the second officer before leading the way into the study, anxious to see what might be hiding on the computer.

  “Do you know what the IM program was? MSN, AOL, something else?” the officer asked after almost a minute of doing the same things Brad had done trying to find the program on Friday. “It’s not on the desktop.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “It was really early in the morning, around five-thirty, and I didn’t get a good look. She’d exited the program by the time I figured out what she was doing.”

  “Five-thirty on a Friday morning?”

  “Yeah, she said she was chatting with her friend down the road—and she promised me she never chatted with strangers.”

  “But if she’d already met someone online, they wouldn’t be considered a stranger to her.” He let out a breath and stopped searching; then he stood up and opened his notebook again. “I’d like the name of the person she claimed to be chatting with. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to call in a computer forensics team to see what they can find.”

  Brad nodded, relieved that they were doing something—anything. “Britney. Britney Peterson. She’s a sophomore, same as Jess, at the high school. Jess said Britney had an assignment she was trying to get done, and that’s why she was online too.”

  “And what was your daughter working on?”

  “She said she was working on a report of her own—on appendicitis.” It was sounding more and more ridiculous to Brad every minute.

  The officer nodded and wrote some more.

  After another minute, the officer stood, flipped his notebook closed, and looked at Brad with compassion. “Look, I know this is scary, but teenage girls get angry with their parents all the time. Chances are she’ll be on her way home by the time school is over.” Exactly what Kate thought.

  “Jess isn’t just some teenager,” Brad said, though he sensed the officer was attempting to offer some comfort. “She’s a good girl. I mean, she’s never done anything like this. It’s hard to imagine she’d run away.”

  The officer just nodded.

  The second officer returned upstairs. “Who went through her room?” he asked.

  “Well, I did. I wanted to know what she’d taken with her, if she’d left anything else.”

  “If there was any evidence there, it’s gone now—but it looks like she went out the window. The screen is out of place.”

  Brad looked at the ground. He hadn’t thought of messing up any evidence.

  “Did she have a diary?”

  “Yes,” Brad said. “But I haven’t seen her write in it for years. Not that that means she didn’t.”

  “I didn’t find one in the room,” the second officer said.

  “If you find it, call us,” the first officer said. “What was she wearing?”

  “Uh,” Brad said. “I’m not sure. But she had a necklace—a silver medallion on a chain with her name engraved on the back. I didn’t find it in her room and I know she was wearing it last night.”

  “Did she take any extra clothes?”

  “Uh, I don’t know. But her jacket is gone.”

  “The grey backpack down there—is that hers? Did she have any other type of bag she’d use to pack clothes in?”

  “I don’t know,” Brad answered and wished Kate was home. He wished she was taking this as seriously as he was. “My wife would know that.”

  “Well, have her check on that,” he said almost casually. “And let us know.” The officers turned toward the door.

  “What about an Amber Alert?” Brad suggested.

  “We don’t have a vehicle description, and there is no sign of forced removal. Amber Alert is for emergency situations.”

  That was it? “There has to be something more we can do. My daughter is gone. You treat it as if it happens every day.”

  “It does happen every day,” the officer said, turning to face Brad in the hallway. “Chances are she’s going to turn up.”

  “Is that what you people said about Elizabeth Smart?” Brad said as calmly as possible, though he didn’t feel calm.

  “She was taken. Your daughter, by all accounts, left. I will, however, stop at the high school and talk to her friend, Britney. And I’m getting the computer checked. That’s more than a lot of jurisdictions would do with a missing teenager that left a note following a fight with her parents. I suggest you continue doing what you can do on your end.”

  Brad nodded and tried to keep his frustration from showing further. Was he the only person who knew something very wrong had happened? This wasn’t normal; it wasn’t typical. He was certain of it, but everyone else seemed to be taking it all in stride.

  “The IT crew will be by sometime today or tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Brad said.

  The officer shrugged as if to say that was the best he could do, as if daring Brad to say it wasn’t enough. Brad walked to the door and held it open, unable to trust himself enough to open his mouth for fear he’d say something he’d regret later. That anyone would treat this as one more thing on their to-do list was inconceivable. The officer nodded on his way out the door.

  Brad slammed the door and stood rooted in the foyer of his home. It was so quiet—oppressively quiet. He didn’t know what to do, where to turn. How important was the computer in all of this? What was he supposed to do?

  Did you think to pray? a voice asked in his head, and he paused. He’d been bartering with the Lord all along: Just bring Jess home and I’ll do better, or give me strength for this, and I’ll be sure it doesn’t happen again. But he knew that wasn’t enough, and he hadn’t really let himself pray. He finally gave in, having trusted in his arm of flesh as long as he could and having gotten nowhere. He fell to his knees, bowed his head, and pleaded with his Father in Heaven to please help him know what to do next. The tears came and soon he was crying, begging for Jess to come home safe. What can I do? he pleaded. What is my part in this? Where do I go from here? And then he thought of the journal. His mother had given it to Jess when she was baptized. Maybe it would be useless, but maybe it wasn’t. Jess hadn’t been talking to anyone else in her life; maybe she was using the journal as her only confidant. What’s more, finding it was something he could do. Scrambling to his feet, he ran to her room as if every second counted. If it was in the house, he would find it.

  60

  Kate bent her head over Chris as she hurried into the house, Justin trailing after them. It had started to rain about an hour ago and didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon. She reached the front door and opened it, shooing Justin inside.

  “I need medicine!” Justin cried, still traumatized by the immunizations he’d had to get at the doctor’s office. Kate had held him tight, but he’d howled, reminding her of how little she could do for her children sometimes.

  “In a minute,” Kate said, putting Chris down and shutting the door. She helped both boys out of their jackets and turned toward the kitchen, only to find Brad sitting on the couch. He was looking at the floor and held a book—Jess’s journal—in his hands.

  “Brad?” she asked.r />
  “I need medicine!” Justin wailed again. Kate looked at Brad one more time, but then hurried into the kitchen to get Justin some children’s Tylenol. As soon as she finished she sent the boys downstairs and went into the living room.

  “Brad?” she asked again, her heart pounding. Had something happened? Maybe Jess had called.

  “I found Jess’s journal,” he finally said, looking at the book. “It was wedged in between her bed and the wall.” Kate stared at the book and swallowed. Did Jess even write in her journal anymore?

  She sat down on the love seat across from him. “Did you read it?”

  Brad looked at her, a hesitant expression on his face. “We should take it to the police.”

  “Without reading it?”

  “I read it,” he said.

  “What did it say?”

  Brad shrugged. “Too much. Will you go check her room and see if there are any clothes or bags missing? The police wanted us to check.”

  Kate stood, her eyes still on the book in his hands and finally nodded, suddenly afraid to know what he was afraid to tell her. “Yeah,” she said on her way to the stairs. Several seconds later she stood frozen in the doorway of Jess’s room.

  It was a mess. She knew Brad had gone through it earlier that morning while she’d been getting the boys ready, but now she stared at the evidence of his panic. He really thought something was wrong, didn’t he.

  She didn’t dare go inside, but after nearly a minute she forced herself to do so. She opened Jess’s drawers almost reverently, fingering through her pants to see what was missing. Then she went to the closet. She was well aware of the clothing Jess owned, especially her favorite items, and the only things missing seemed to be her new Gap jeans they’d bought a couple months ago, Jess’s favorite black T-shirt, and her coat.

  As soon as Kate determined those were the only things missing, she fled the room, overwhelmed by the emptiness of it. But she’s coming back, right? she asked herself. If she weren’t coming back, Kate would be panicked, right? She’d know, wouldn’t she?

  “She didn’t take any extra clothes as far as I can tell,” she said upon entering the living room. Brad was still sitting in the same place, gripping the journal so hard his knuckles were white. “What?” Kate asked. “What is it?”

  “I need to get this to the police,” he said with a nod. He suddenly stood and hurried past her, into the kitchen. “Have you seen my keys?” he asked.

  Kate followed him. “What does it say?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I just had ’em,” he said. “I did a neighborhood drive-by, then I came into the kitchen and . . . no, I went into the study first.” He passed her again and she turned dumbly, watching him.

  “What did it say!” she shouted, surprising herself with the force of her own voice.

  Brad was silent for a second. “She met someone, Kate.”

  “Someone?” Kate asked. “Someone, who?” Had she sneaked out to see a boy from school? Overnight? Kate’s head began to spin.

  “Someone online,” he said, looking at her with fear in his eyes. “She was meeting him late Wednesday night, but planned to come home.”

  Kate inhaled sharply and took a step back, encountering the wall behind her. The edges of her vision were going dark. Brad hurried over to her. “Kate?” he asked.

  “I’m okay,” she said, but was feeling dizzy. “Online?” she asked, looking into his face, wishing the room would go still again. “How?” It was too much. Brad helped her to the couch, where she leaned back and closed her eyes, not wanting to fall apart.

  She took deep breaths, but they weren’t helping. Jess had met someone—a stranger? She’d left to meet him? Jess? She listened to Brad go into the kitchen. He dialed a number and filled up a glass of water.

  “There were some officers at my house a short time ago taking a missing person’s report on my daughter,” she heard Brad say. Then suddenly he was in front of her, offering her the water glass he’d just filled, the phone held to his ear. She took it but didn’t drink. Brad continued. “I found her journal—should I bring it to the police station?”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Yes, it was an Officer Jensen and Malkov. . . . Yes, they were sending someone to check the computer . . . bring it in too? . . . Okay.”

  He hung up, but didn’t move from his spot directly in front of Kate. She had tears coursing down her cheeks, but she opened her eyes, trying to get a grip.

  “I need to take the journal and computer in,” he said, looking worried. “Uh, maybe you’re right, maybe the best thing to do is keep things as normal as possible.”

  Kate’s chin trembled even more. He was protecting her. There were things in the journal he didn’t want her to see. She took a deep breath and lifted her chin. “It’s fine,” she said. “I have laundry and floors to do—I’ll be better here.”

  She reached out and took his hand. He responded by holding hers tightly. It was the most touching they’d had since all this started. She wanted more but refused to ask for it. There was a twisted kind of safety in the distance between them. She needed the insulation.

  61

  “Mr. Thompson?”

  Brad jumped to his feet. He’d been waiting almost half an hour just to hand over the journal, and he’d taken the opportunity to read more. Every page made his heart get heavier. He’d had no idea what was going on in his little girl’s head, in his own home.

  He reached out and shook the hand of the portly man standing before him.

  “I’m Detective Smithton,” the man said.

  “Brad Thompson.”

  “You found your daughter’s journal?”

  “Yes,” Brad said. He gestured toward the computer tower. “I brought the computer too.”

  “Excellent,” Detective Smithton said. “We appreciate it, and we’ll get right on it.” He pulled a small notebook from his breast pocket. “What number can you be reached at?”

  “I’ll wait,” Brad said, handing over the journal, both anxious to not have the temptation of reading more and hesitant to let go of this shred of his daughter’s life—the secret parts. The parts he didn’t dare let Kate read. It was shocking to know the depth of Jess’s life he’d never imagined existed.

  “Uh, it may be several hours,” Detective Smithton said, furrowing his thick eyebrows. “It would be best if—”

  “I’ll wait,” Brad said again, sitting back down to prove his point. Kate was at home, and he didn’t know how to be around her with the secrets he now felt he was keeping. He had nowhere else to be but here. Waiting.

  62

  Julie looked up from scrubbing the grout in the kitchen tile when Britney came in from school. She sat back on her heels and forced a smile. All the worry and fear for Jess had given her a nervous energy that she was using to deep-clean her kitchen. When she’d talked to Kate this afternoon it sounded like she was doing the same thing. She was worried about her friend, worried about Britney, and scared to death for Jess. Sheila lay on a blanket in the living room, grabbing her toes, and filling the air with baby sounds.

  “How was school?” Julie asked, but the question sounded lame considering the situation with Jess. She’d actually wondered if Britney should stay home, but in the end they both decided she’d try it out and call if she couldn’t handle it.

  “A policeman came and talked to me,” Britney said, pulling out a kitchen chair and sitting down. Julie got to her feet and pulled out another chair, her heart pounding. The police were involved?

  “What did he want?” she asked, aching for her daughter and yet suddenly on edge. She couldn’t help but wonder if Britney knew anything and had been keeping it from them.

  Britney shrugged. “Just wanted to know if I knew where Jess was, that kinda thing.”

  Julie nodded. She had a hundred questions of her own, but hesitated to take on that role. Britney fidgeted with the strap of her backpack. “Jess told her dad that she and I were instant messaging on Friday.”
r />   “And you weren’t?”

  “At five o’clock in the morning?”

  Julie nodded her understanding. No one in the Peterson household was conscious at five a.m., and Julie’s thoughts began to head down a new path. If not Britney, then who was Jess IMing? And why would she lie?

  “Have the police come here yet?” Britney continued, interrupting Julie’s thoughts.

  “The police?” Julie said, her eyebrows lifting. “Why would they come here?”

  “I told the police something, and they said they would probably come and talk to you about our computer. I thought maybe they’d have come already.”