Payback

by Jonnie Jacobs

There was a moment’s silence. “I have terrible news.” His voice was raspy. “Carol’s dead.”

  “What?” Marta must have misunderstood.

  “Dead. She’s dead.” He choked back what sounded like sob. “I’m sorry, I’m having trouble getting my head around this.”

  How could Carol be dead? “What happened?”

  “A hit-and-run. It happened last evening, probably on her way home from work.”

  “Were there any witnesses?”

  “No one who has come forward. She was apparently getting out of her car in the parking lot at the mall. One of the grocery employees found her body when he left work about eleven.”

  Marta’s chest felt tight. “I don’t know what to say. I’m numb.”

  “I can’t believe it, either. I keep hoping I’ll wake up and discover it was all a bad dream.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “I called the cops, actually. I didn’t get home until almost eleven myself. When she wasn’t here, I got worried. And she didn’t answer her phone. I kept telling myself I was getting worked up about nothing—I’ve done that before. But this time I was wrong.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mark.” Marta searched her mind for something more to say, but there was nothing. Her own shock and sadness made it hard to think.

  Mark asked if Carol usually shopped at that particular mall.

  “I’ve never heard her mention it.” The area was a dated, lower-end strip mall that appealed largely to the agricultural workers who lived east of town. Marta couldn’t imagine Carol, who favored designer clothing and gourmet specialty foods, shopping there. “Maybe she had car trouble or something and needed a convenient place to pull over.”

  “It’s not convenient, though,” he pointed out. “Not if she was on her way home. And she never called to say her car had broken down. I was hoping you’d know if her being there had anything to do with a project at work.”

  “Nothing I can think of off the top of my head, but I’ll check her notes.” Marta paused, feeling torn. “I don’t think I’ll be able to do it right away, though. We have our own crisis here. Jamie has run away.”

  “That’s tough. No telling what kids will do.” Mark sounded like a man in shock.

  “The reason I called . . .” Marta knew she was going to sound insensitive, but it couldn’t be helped. “Carol contacted a private investigator in order to get background on a potential client. Would you know how to get in touch with him? I think he might have information that would help us find Jamie.” It made no sense, but hopefully Mark was too distracted to notice.

  “I remember her saying something about it, but if she ever told me the guy’s name, I don’t remember it.”

  “When you get a chance, could you take a look? Maybe Carol wrote him a check or made note of his name. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

  “Yeah, sure. When I can.”

  “And let me know about . . . about plans for Carol’s service. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but if I can help at all . . .”

  “I haven’t gotten that far yet,” Mark said. “I’m still . . . reeling.”

  “If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”

  Marta said goodbye and clicked off, then instinctively turned to Gordon and burst into tears. “Carol’s dead. She was hit by a car on her way home from work last night.”

  When he hesitated for a moment before putting his arms around her, she remembered he was barely speaking to her. She was grateful he hadn’t turned away.

  “How terrible,” he said when she’d relayed what little she knew.

  Marta nodded and blew her nose. “I can’t believe it. She was at her desk yesterday afternoon and now she’s dead. It’s just so random. So unexpected.”

  “It really is.” Gordon hesitated and looked at his watch. “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but we need to get to the police station. I can go alone if you’re not up to it.”

  “Of course I’m coming!” Carol was a friend, but Jamie was her daughter, for God’s sake. How could Gordon think she wouldn’t put Jamie first?

  Possibly because this whole mess was her fault.

  *****

  The officer who took their report was a middle-aged man by the name of Phillips. He had a full, fleshy face and smelled of cigarettes. He sat at a desk littered with stacks of manila folders, and appeared mildly bored as he covered the same ground the dispatcher had.

  “We gave all that information to the woman when we called,” Gordon explained.

  Phillips nodded. “I’ve got her report right here.”

  “Then why are you asking?” Marta felt the urge to yell at him but she kept her voice even. She wanted the police to be on their side, after all.

  Phillips didn’t seem offended. “Sometimes new details emerge. You’ll remember something you forgot earlier, or you’ll lay it out differently. It all helps.”

  In that case, wouldn’t it be best to go through the exercise over and over, like a Groundhog Day nightmare? But Marta wasn’t about to challenge him.

  She handed him a photo of Jamie. She and Gordon had debated between her recent school picture and a candid taken over Christmas. They’d finally decided on the school photo because it made Jamie appear younger.

  “Has your daughter done this before?”

  “Done what?”

  “Run away.”

  Jamie hadn’t simply run away. Why couldn’t the police get that through their heads? “No, she hasn’t,” Marta said.

  “How about other trouble? Problems with drugs, acting out, that sort of thing.”

  “No, Jamie’s not like that.” Marta hesitated, then added. “She’s cut a few classes recently, but that’s all.”

  Phillips scratched his cheek. “Any problems at home?”

  Marta hesitated and glanced at Gordon. “Nothing out of the usual, but Jamie and I did have a heated disagreement last night.”

  His ears perked up. “What about?”

  “A man she’s been seeing behind our backs.”

  “We think that’s who she’s with,” Gordon said. “He’s much older than she is—in his thirties.”

  “He goes by the name of Todd Wilson,” Marta added, “but that might not be his real name. Here’s his cell number.” She handed Phillips the number. “We’ve tried calling but he doesn’t answer. You can track him using cell towers, can’t you?”

  “With a court order. Assuming he’s naive enough to use his phone.”

  Gordon looked puzzled. “How about the FBI?”

  Phillips rolled his pen between his palms and took a moment before answering. “A seventeen-year-old who leaves home isn’t the same as an abduction. I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but this sort of thing happens more often than you’d believe. It’s not something the FBI generally gets involved with.”

  His words echoed those of the dispatcher, and they weren’t encouraging. Marta felt a grip of panic at the thought that they might never see Jamie again.

  Chapter 29

  The days that followed were a blur of fear and confusion, each more agonizing than the one before. Marta felt trapped in a nightmare that wouldn’t end.

  They were almost certain that Jamie was with Todd, nonetheless, they couldn’t rule out other possibilities. Maybe she’d simply run off because she was angry and hurt. Or maybe she’d intended to go to Todd and something terrible had happened in the interim. And even if she was with him . . . well, those possibilities were frightening in their own right. Marta couldn’t get the stories she’d heard about sex slaves and forced prostitution out of her mind.

  As the police suggested, she and Gordon contacted the runaway hotline immediately. The staffers were supportive and offered helpful tips, but none of their suggestions guaranteed Jamie’s return. Gordon took on the task of combing through Jamie’s computer and cell phone records while Marta focused on contacting her friends. She began with Alyssa, calling as soon as they’d returned from th
e police station Saturday morning.

  “You still haven’t heard from her?” Alyssa asked.

  “No. We’re fairly sure she’s with an older man she’s been seeing behind our backs.” Marta paused pointedly. “I take it you know about that?”

  Alyssa groaned. “I told her it wasn’t a good idea.”

  “What do you know about him? Do you have any idea where they might be?”

  “No idea. Jamie didn’t say much, but I could tell she was ape-shit over the guy. Sorry for the language.”

  “That’s okay. All I care about is information.”

  “I wish I could tell you more, but she kept pretty quiet about him. I know he picked her up most days after school, but I don’t know where they went. Jamie told me they mostly just drove around.”

  Not likely, Marta thought. “Did she ever say anything about running away with him?”

  “Not a word. I thought she was smarter than that. I mean, I knew she shouldn’t be seeing him, but I didn’t want to rat out my best friend. If I’d known she was going to . . .” Alyssa’s voice faded into a quivery whimper. “I’m really sorry. I should have said something.”

  Marta didn’t have time for hand-holding. Besides, her own behavior fairly reeked with should haves. “Can you give me the names of other friends I might not know about?”

  “Sure.”

  Marta took down names as Alyssa dictated. Most were familiar to her, a few were not, but those, Alyssa explained, were more school acquaintances than real friends.

  “Promise you’ll call me the instant you hear from her?” Marta asked. “It’s really important.”

  “I doubt she’ll contact me.”

  “Why’s that?” At one time Jamie and Alyssa had been practically inseparable.

  “He’s all she thinks about.” Alyssa sounded sad. “We hardly talk anymore outside of school.”

  Marta called the list of her daughter’s friends, none of whom had heard from her, or had any idea where she might have gone. Most didn’t even know she was seeing anyone.

  The exception was Harmony Shaw, who’d known Jamie was seeing an older guy, but hadn’t seen anything wrong with it.

  “He picked her up practically every day after school,” she said with something approaching envy. “Really cute guy. She seemed to like him a lot.”

  “Did she ever talk about going away with him?”

  “Not specifically.”

  “But she hinted at it?”

  Harmony laughed, a smirky sort of humorless guffaw. “Doesn’t every girl when she’s got a hot boyfriend?”

  This was the reason Marta hadn’t wanted Jamie hanging out with Harmony. The girl was incorrigible. In fact, she seemed impressed by Jamie’s boldness.

  Marta saved Oliver Glick for last.

  “You think she ran away?” he asked, dumbfounded. “Why?”

  “She’s been seeing an older man, and we told her it had to stop.”

  “Oh.” Oliver sounded both aghast and hurt. “He’s like, her boyfriend?”

  “I’m afraid that’s how Jamie sees it.”

  “You think that’s who she’s with?”

  “It seems that way.”

  Oliver took a moment to digest what he’d learned. “Is she . . . in trouble? I mean, is this guy bad news?”

  “She went with him willingly, so we’re hoping she’ll be okay. But we have to find her.”

  “Of course. Gosh, I can’t believe it. Jamie, of all people. She’s like one of the few sensible girls.”

  “You’re friends with her, right?”

  “I don’t know if she’d say that, but yeah, we talked at school and stuff. She was nice to me. I think of her as a friend.” He sounded wistful and a little sad.

  Marta recalled how thrilled she’d been when she thought Jamie was seeing Oliver. How she wished she’d been right. “You’ll let me know right away if you hear from her?”

  “For sure. But I’m pretty sure I’m the last person she’d contact.”

  Gordon turned up nothing useful from Jamie’s electronics. Yes, she’d been seeing Todd, but nothing about plans to go away or hints about where they might be. The police continued to offer verbal support, but little more. Following the initial, limited burst of news coverage, the media went on to other stories. The all-out effort to find Jamie that Marta had hoped for never materialized.

  As long as she and Gordon focused on Jamie, they managed to get along. Otherwise, he avoided her. He wasn’t outwardly angry or accusatory. Marta would have preferred that. At least then the issue of her infidelity would be out in the open. Instead, it lurked like the proverbial elephant in the room. They stepped around it but never acknowledged it.

  Wednesday morning, Marta got up early to make waffles and fresh-squeezed orange juice for breakfast. She set the table with a small vase of violas she picked from the garden. She hoped she could woo Gordon into at least acknowledging her presence.

  “I’m not hungry,” he said, walking past the table to pour himself a cup of coffee.

  “You usually enjoy breakfast.”

  “These aren’t usual times.”

  “No, they aren’t. But you’re making them worse.”

  He turned to glare at her. “Me? Whose fault is it that Todd Wilson came into our lives?”

  “I made a horrible mistake, I admit it. And I’m so sorry. I’ve told you that over and over. I’ve begged for forgiveness. I don’t know what else I can do.”

  “Maybe there’s nothing you can do.”

  He might as well have slapped her. “Please, Gordon, don’t say that. I need you, now more than ever.”

  “You didn’t need me when you were in Minnesota.”

  Would he ever forgive her? “Haven’t you ever done something you regret? You’ve never made a mistake?”

  Gordon straightened and his face flushed. He seemed on the verge of answering, then thought better of it. He sipped his coffee and avoided looking at her.

  “I told you Todd was trouble,” Marta reminded him. “That day he showed up pretending to look at the house down the street, remember? I told you, and you wouldn’t listen. You kept saying what a nice guy he was.”

  “I didn’t have your intimate knowledge of his true nature.” Gordon set his cup on the counter. “Besides, it was your argument with Jamie that caused her to run away.”

  “What was I supposed to do? Tell her she had our blessings to keep seeing him?” Marta was suddenly through begging. “Maybe if you’d been home instead of out schmoozing with friends from work—”

  “I’ve had enough! I’m going to the campus.” He grabbed his keys and left.

  Marta dumped the breakfast in the trash. She fought back tears but didn’t know if they were tears of sadness or anger. Maybe both.

  Her entire world had fallen apart. Her daughter had disappeared with an unscrupulous and dangerous man. Her marriage was on the verge of collapse. Her only friend had been killed, leaving Marta with both the grief of losing her and little hope for continuing the business. Worse, with the exception of Carol’s death, it was all her fault.

  A staggering sadness swelled from deep inside and threatened to consume her. She needed to get out of the house. Leaving the dishes unwashed and the kitchen a mess, she grabbed a sweater and her purse.

  Already, people she knew in town had begun to pull away. To her face, they were sympathetic, but she knew that behind her back they whispered disapproval. She was the woman whose daughter had run off with an older man. She was the clueless mom who hadn’t suspected a thing. She and Gordon were the sort of parents responsible people scorned.

  Without any specific plan, she started the car and drove east, past the high school and a collection of fast-food places, past the used-car lots and auto-repair shops, to the mall near the edge of town. She didn’t know exactly where Carol had been hit, but she pulled into one of the outer parking spots and turned off the engine.

  What might Carol have been doing here? Mark was right that this mall wasn�
�t on her way home from the office, so it had to have been an intended destination. But Marta couldn’t imagine what interest Carol would have in any of the businesses in this small, rundown mall. It housed a discount grocery store, an odd-lot dollar store, a nail salon, and a cleaners, as well as several vacant storefronts. None of them places Carol would have patronized, much less gone out of her way to do so.

  Despite the constant agony over Jamie, Marta had found time to look through Carol’s client contacts and files. She found nothing that might explain what Carol had been doing at the mall. And nothing she saw now jarred a memory.

  She sat there a few more minutes watching the customers come and go, and then drove off. Everything had turned sour in such a short period of time. Overnight, really. She thought back to Friday evening. Just Jamie and herself for dinner. She’d been looking forward to spending time with her daughter, and irritated that Jamie hadn’t felt the same way. But the real shockers were learning that Jamie was seeing Todd, and then finding her daughter gone.

  Carol had been killed that same night.

  Marta knew the saying “When it rains, it pours.” But still, what were the odds of so much bad news coming all at once?

  *****

  Mark called that afternoon with the name and number of the man Carol had hired to investigate Todd. His name was Larry Gray and he lived in Boston.

  “Thank you,” Marta said. “I know you have a lot on your mind.”

  “Hope it helps.”

  “I take it there are still no witnesses?” When she’d last talked to Mark a couple of days ago, the police had come up with nothing.

  “Nope. It happened at the back of the parking lot, in an area the security camera doesn’t cover.”

  “I drove out there earlier today,” Marta told him. “I was hoping I might remember something that would help explain why Carol was there. It didn’t work.”

  “We’ll probably never know.”

  “How are you doing?”

  “Not great. But I went back to work. It actually helps.”

  “You’ll let me know if I can do anything for you?”

  “Sure.”

  “And thanks for Gray’s name and contact info. I really appreciate it.”