Have You Seen Her?

by Karen Rose

  “I know what a gossip you are,” Jenna shot back, anger making her tongue loose, not caring when he flinched and hurt filled his eyes. She turned to Allison, fury making her body tremble. “And, Allison, even though it is absolutely none of your business, I made the man dinner last night.”

  Allison’s lips thinned in disapproval. “At midnight?” Jenna lurched to her feet, her palms narrowly missing her plate of meat loaf as she slapped them down on the table. “Yes, at midnight. As you so noted, he is a policeman. He got called to a case, so I made him dinner later so he wouldn’t go hungry. Although if we’d screwed like weasels on Mrs. Kasselbaum’s welcome mat it wouldn’t have been any of your damn business.”

  Allison’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Charlie’s eyes widened. Garrett looked like he’d swallowed his fork.

  “Jenna,” Seth started and Jenna held up her hand to stop him.

  “I’m not finished. You say you want me to get on with my life. But the first chance I get, I’m disgraceful,” she sputtered, then pointed her finger at Seth. “I am tired of your gossip and meddling.” She turned her finger to Allison. “I am tired of your bossiness.” She felt a sob building in her chest and fruitlessly battled it. “And I am tired of your damn Wednesday

  meat loaf.” Leaving the table in stunned silence, she rushed out, managing to grab her purse as she barreled through the front door and down the steep driveway. She held off the tears until she got to Adam’s car.

  No, not Adam’s car. Adam was dead. D-e-a-d, dead. Two years ago this Saturday. This was not Adam’s car. This is my car. “My car,” she gritted aloud. My car. My life. Her hands shook as she tried to put the key in the lock and the sob broke free. She leaned her forehead against the car and felt the waves of emotion crash in her head and the tears come. And come. And come.

  My life. My totally out of control life.

  A hand gently pulled the key from her fist and turned her body into his. Jenna felt Seth’s arms wrap around her shoulders and his head pushing her cheek into his shoulder. And she cried.

  Seth held her as she cried, rocking her, stroking her hair as her own father would have done. She cried over Adam, over the boys at school, over Steven. She even cried over the stupid meat loaf. And when her tears were spent, Seth held her a little longer, still stroking her hair.

  “I understand you’ve had a rather taxing week, young lady,” he said gently and she nodded, her cheek still pressed to his shoulder.

  “My life sucks,” she moaned and he chuckled. For some reason that made her feel better.

  “You know, you’ve made me work pretty hard this week,” he said and she pulled back to look at him. He pulled a cotton hankie from his pocket and she took it, mopping her wet face.

  She sniffled. “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, you told me about the tires and your ankle. But the rest I had to find out from Mrs. Kasselbaum and—” He closed his mouth. “And others,” he added.

  Her eyes narrowed. “What others?” she asked suspiciously.

  His white brows lifted. “I don’t disclose my sources,” he said loftily, then he sobered. “Why didn’t you tell us about the problems at school, Jenna?” he asked. “The vandalism to your classroom. The water in your gas tank. The possum. We’re your family. Why didn’t you tell us?”

  Jenna dropped her eyes. “I didn’t want to worry you.” “So instead you keep it all in until you explode all over Allison’s meat loaf?” he asked, a smile in his voice, and her lips quivered.

  “That was bad of me,” she admitted. “You are a meddling gossip and Allison is bossy, but I shouldn’t have let it come out like that. I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “Accepted.” Then he grinned. “But I didn’t hear an apology about the meat loaf.”

  “I couldn’t pull that one off with a straight face,” Jenna returned, her own grin wobbly.

  “Come on back, Jenna. You have a family that’s worried about you.” He lifted her chin so that she looked up the driveway to where Allison, Garrett, and Charlie stood watching intently.

  So she climbed the driveway to the people that cared about her. They were her family. Despite their eccentricities and terrible food.

  “I’m sorry, Jenna,” said Allison and Jenna felt tears well again. Allison had been crying, too.

  “I’m sorry I called you bossy,” Jenna said and hugged Allison tightly.

  “What about the meat loaf?” Charlie asked and Jenna hiccuped a laugh.

  “Shut up, Charlotte Anne,” Jenna and Allison said in unison, then they both laughed and Jenna felt true peace for the first time in days.

  And then, of course, the phone rang. Garrett answered it, his expression puzzled. “Yes, she’s here.” He cupped the phone. “Jenna, it’s for you. It’s a Father Leone and he says it’s urgent.”

  The peace fizzled abruptly as she listened to Father Mike ask her to meet him at his parish.

  Wednesday, October 5, 7:30 P.M.

  “Where are we going?” Jenna asked after she’d strapped herself into Father Mike’s car.

  “Out past Shotwell Crossing,” he answered, turning out of the rectory driveway. “We should just beat Steven and Brad there.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Jenna said, holding up her hand. “Brad runs away.” She ticked off one finger. “So Helen calls Steven who, thankfully, agrees to leave his job and come home.” She ticked off another finger.

  “So you’ve noticed Steven’s propensity to work,” Father Mike said, looking straight ahead.

  “I’ve noticed Steven hides from his kids. I don’t know why.” Jenna studied Father Mike’s profile. His perfect poker face. “And you’re not going to tell me, are you? Even though you know.”

  “No.”

  Jenna sighed. “Okay, fine. So moving right along, Steven starts for home, but on his way Helen calls him back and tells him Brad’s grandmother on his mother’s side has called and Brad is there.” She ticked off a third finger.

  “Right so far.”

  “So Steven gets mad, surprise, surprise, and decides he’ll go get Brad and teach him a lesson by, of all things, making him volunteer in the search for this missing teenager.” She ticked off a fourth finger and frowned. “What is the man thinking?”

  “That Brad needs to grow up and stop throwing childish tantrums,” Father Mike responded.

  “Hell of a way to grow up,” Jenna said, then bit her tongue. “Sorry, Father. I just don’t believe searching for a girl who’s likely a corpse is the best way to effect maturity.”

  “And on that we agree,” Father Mike said, maneuvering his car onto the highway.

  “So wrapping things up”—she ticked off her thumb— “Helen gets upset and calls you. She tries to call me, thinking I have some magic wand I can wave to make Steven behave, and though I’m not home somehow she manages to figure out where I am. I still want to know how she tracked me down. And what possessed her to believe he’ll listen to a blessed thing I have to say.”

  “He, Steven, or he, Brad?”

  “Either. Both.”

  Father Mike glanced over. “Did you learn more than counting when you got your Ph.D.?”

  Jenna smiled. “They taught me lots of stuff, but frankly, none of it of any great use lately.”

  “Your parents must be proud.”

  Jenna raised a brow. “If that’s your way of inquiring into my past, you don’t have to be so clever. I’ll tell you what you want to know if you tell me how Helen tracked me down.”

  Father Mike grinned. “Fair enough. Where did you grow up?”

  “Maryland suburbs outside D.C. Lower middle class. My dad worked for the government.”

  “Doing what?” “Don’t know.”

  Father Mike looked over in surprise. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I mean I don’t know. Dad worked for the Department of Defense. He took an oath of silence or something. I know what building he worked in, but that was all.”

>   “That must have made for an interesting childhood.” Jenna pursed her lips. “You could say that.”

  “So what about your mother?”

  Jenna carefully considered her response. The man was a priest after all. “She didn’t take an oath of silence,” she finally answered.

  “Hmm, I see,” Father Mike said. “A tad dominant? Demanding?”

  “A tad,” Jenna said dryly.

  “Made you an overachiever?”

  Jenna didn’t have to think back. She could hear her mother’s voice in her mind as clearly as Father Mike’s. Demanding straight A’s, saying her classes were too easy when she brought home perfect report cards. Critical. Always critical. “I was the valedictorian in high school, graduated top two percent from Duke, magna cum laude from Maryland, and with honors from UNC.”

  “And your mama never said she was proud of you.” Jenna was annoyed to feel a lump in her throat. She didn’t like to think about her mother, much less feel wistful that she’d never gained her mother’s approval. “No.”

  “And you were your daddy’s girl?”

  “Down to my Mary Janes.”

  “Which you could see your face in.”

  Jenna smiled ruefully. “If she weren’t dearly deceased, I’d swear you’d met my mother.”

  “I’ve met enough mothers like her. And fathers too. Any brothers or sisters?”

  “None that I know of,” Jenna replied cheerfully. “Just little old me.”

  “Little old you that goes on to get a bunch of degrees, then goes to work teaching high school kids.” He looked thoughtful. “I have to admit I haven’t figured that one out yet.”

  Jenna shrugged. “No secret. I met a man in the doctoral program at UNC. Fell in love, got engaged. The two of us went to work doing pharmaceutical research. Then he got sick and died. I’d taken leave to care for him, but afterward, I didn’t want to go back to research. It reminded me too much of him. My best friend is an English teacher at Roosevelt High and knew they needed another science teacher. Presto, chango, and voilà! I am now a science teacher.”

  “Who flunks quarterbacks.”

  Jenna’s lips thinned. “Yep, that’s me.”

  “And reaches out to bright kids that flunk chemistry.” Jenna softened. “Yep, that’s me, too.”

  “Well, I’d say that was the reason Helen thought Brad would listen to you. I think you know why she thought Steven would listen to you.”

  Jenna thought of Steven’s face as he walked away the night before, so angry. And only God knew why. Her eyes narrowed. Or maybe Steven’s priest. “Shows how much you know,” she muttered. “Exactly how much do you know?”

  “Nothing,” Father Mike replied. But she saw his jaw tighten.

  “That’s what I thought,” Jenna said, then shrugged. “So how did Helen track me down?”

  “You’d be much easier to find if you had a cell phone,” Father Mike replied.

  “No welching, Father. I kept my end of the bargain. How did she track me down?”

  “Ready to count on your fingers again?” he asked with a grin. “Okay. Matt’s best friend on his soccer team has a big brother at Roosevelt who has . . . noticed you. From afar of course.”

  Jenna felt her cheeks heat. She was aware of the stares of the adolescent boys, which was one of the reasons she always wore business suits—to be as unsexy as possible. That didn’t extend to her underwear, though, which was the only place she could be truly feminine. Which nobody knew about. Except Steven. She cleared her throat. “Of course.”

  “Matt’s friend’s big brother told Helen your best friend was Miss Ryan, the English teacher.”

  “But Casey’s unlisted.”

  “This is true. But enter Steven’s trusty assistant Nancy, add one simple search of the Bureau of Motor Vehicles, and presto, chango, voilà! Miss Ryan tells us you routinely have Wednesday meat loaf with your former fiancé’s family, who, incidentally, she finds ‘totally weird.’” He punctuated the air. “Her words, not mine.”

  “It’s a fair cop,” Jenna said. “Except I didn’t have meat loaf tonight.”

  “What did you have?”

  “Nothing.” To her surprise her stomach growled. “And I’m starving.”

  “Well, we’re coming up to our exit and they have one of every fast-food joint there is. What’s your pleasure, Dr. Marshall?”

  The answer was simple. “Anything that doesn’t look like possum roadkill.”

  Father Mike choked on a laugh. “I don’t want to know. Truly do not want to know. You do realize that you’ve just eliminated nine out of ten of the fast-food places on the pike.”

  Jenna looked at the upcoming throng of neon arches and crowns. “At this point I’d be satisfied with loaves and fishes.”

  Father Mike grinned. “I like you, Jenna. I have no idea what you see in Steven, but I know what he sees in you. There’s a fish place about a mile from here that looks like a dump but has good fish and buttermilk biscuits to go.”

  “Then lead the way, good Father. My treat.”

  Wednesday, October 5, 8:00 P.M.

  If looks could kill, they’d both be dead, Steven thought grimly, pulling the Volvo alongside Harry’s Toyota. Brad sat sullenly staring ahead.

  “Unbuckle and get out,” Steven said, jerking at his own seat belt.

  “Or what?” Brad asked, his voice sharp as a knife. “Or you’ll lock me up?”

  Steven twisted in his seat to study Brad’s profile. The profile of a total stranger. “Do I have to? Do I have to lock you up to keep you from running away again?”

  Brad turned to look at him, defiance in his eyes. “I’ll be eighteen in four months.”

  Steven clenched his teeth. “I know when your birthday is, Brad.”

  Brad looked away. “Yeah, I guess you do,” he muttered. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Steven asked sharply. Once again his son met his eyes and this time Steven saw contempt mixed with the defiance. “Just that you should know my birthday. It’s nine months to the day of your senior prom.”

  Steven felt the blood drain from his face. “Your mother and I never made any secret of the . . . circumstances of your... conception. You were free to figure it out from the day you learned how to add and subtract.”

  Brad’s smile twisted. “The circumstances of my conception. I like that. Very good, Dad.” He looked out the window. “You are such a damn hypocrite.”

  “Don’t take that tone with me, Brad.” Steven drew a breath and counted to ten. In Latin. Backward. “I don’t know what your problem has been this last month or who the hell you think you are, but I have news for you, son. I am your father. And I will continue to be your father in the four months until you reach the sacred age of eighteen. And I demand respect for no other reason than I am your father.”

  “Yeah, you brought me into this world, you can take me out,” Brad said bitterly.

  “I have never, never said that to you,” Steven gritted. “In your seventeen years I have never, never laid a hand on you. Although at this moment, the idea holds considerable appeal.” He reached over Brad, pulled the door handle, and pushed the door open, letting in the cool night air. “Now get your defiant ass out of this car or I may give in to my desire to whip the shit out of you.”

  “Why, so I can participate in the family business?” Brad asked with a sneer and Steven saw red.

  “No, son. I don’t need your help. I don’t even want your help. What I do want is for you to take a look over there.” Steven pointed at twenty bobbing lights in the distance. “Do you know what those volunteers are doing?”

  “Looking for a body.”

  “Dammit, Brad, no. They are not looking for just a body. They are looking for a human person. They are giving of themselves. And that’s something I haven’t seen you do in weeks. Do you know who they’re looking for? Do you even care?”

  Brad’s defiance faltered and Steven watched his son swallow hard. “A sixteen-year-old girl.”

  “
Yes. A girl whose parents loved her. Who for some reason nobody may ever know left the safety of her bed in the middle of the night to find something. Excitement maybe. Who knows? Instead, we’re looking for her with cadaver dogs, Brad. Do you know what that means?”

  Brad swallowed again. “That she’s probably dead.” Steven nodded, his heart in his throat. “So you get the Kewpie doll. I am sick and tired of watching you mope around. I am sick and tired of you not bathing or shaving or studying, but most of all I’m sick and tired of what you’ve done to our family.”

  Brad’s jaw clenched. “What I’ve done to our family?” he asked softly, then laughed and the sound sent chills down Steven’s spine. “You have one hell of a lot of nerve, Dad.” He got out of the car. “I’ll help those men search, because I want to. Not because I give a damn about you.”

  Clutching at the steering wheel, Steven watched his oldest son walk away, tall and slender. In every physical way totally the same as he’d been two months ago. In every other way, a total stranger. Brad reported to Sheriff Rogers who, after glancing over at Steven for an okay, handed him a flashlight and walkie-talkie and pointed him to the woods.

  Steven closed his eyes and shuddered out a breath. Then breathed in again and knew he was hallucinating. Her perfume. As real as if she was sitting next to him.

  “Steven.”

  His eyes flew open. She was sitting next to him. Dressed in a conservative suit with her hair down around her shoulders. Instantly he remembered the last time he’d seen her, not twenty-four hours before. The heat, the greed that hadn’t yet subsided. It had been embers all day, embers that now fanned into a full-fledged flame. His body responded. Of course. His hands clenched the steering wheel harder to keep from grabbing her where she sat.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked slowly, carefully. She blinked those violet eyes, moistened her full red lips, tucked a stray lock of black hair behind her ear. “To be honest, I’m not really sure. But your aunt and your priest believe I have some influence over your logic, which at the moment seems very flawed.”

  His aunt. He should have known.

  His priest. Who Sandra was investigating at this very moment for possible murder.