by Jayne Denker
“Wha’?” she croaked. What time was it? She finally cracked open one eye. The light was pink. Not good. That meant it was way too early. Sydney was looming over her, looking pretty freaked out. “What’s the matter?”
“Skylar said she was going out to get more wood.”
“Nobody went with her?”
Syd shook her head, and her lank brown hair fell into her eyes. “And it was, like, an hour ago.”
That woke Jordan up all the way. “You mean she’s lost?”
“Maybe. But her stuff ’s gone.”
“Shit.”
She didn’t care that she just swore in front of the teenagers, all of whom started waking up when she and Sydney gave up on trying to whisper. Jordan pushed herself out of the sleeping bag. “Wake up Summer,” she instructed Sydney, then she turned to Danielle. “Did she do it?”
“Do what?”
“Come on, Danielle! Did she go with Dylan?”
Danielle looked away.
“She did,” Jordan muttered. “Fabulous.”
“He was going to pick her up at the logging road,” Destiny said.
Jordan took a deep breath. “Okay. Pack everything up. We’re going.” She rooted around and found her phone before Summer could find hers. “Amber Alert?”
Summer nodded. “Now.”
“These look familiar?”
Summer and Jordan peered into the back of Will’s cruiser at a sullen-looking Blue and Dylan. Both women nodded, and Summer leaned in to talk to the girl. Jordan straightened up and dragged her fingers through her hair.
Will came a couple of steps closer. “You’re shaking.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.” He pointed at her trembling hands with his pen.
Jordan clamped her lips together to keep them from quivering as well, but she couldn’t stop the odd flutter-heave going on in her chest. She tried to take a few deep breaths to calm down, but she wasn’t even able to do that.
“Jordan?” Will put his clipboard on the hood of his car and grasped her shoulders. “It’s okay.”
She nodded, a little too wildly, opening her eyes wide so she didn’t cry. She was going to cry? Oh, fuck it all. What was wrong with her?
“Everything’s fine,” Will said, and she realized he was using his calm-the-victim-down tone. It was kind of working, but mostly not. “I think that was the shortest recovery time we’ve had on an Amber Alert in, like, forever.”
It was true; the couple hadn’t been able to get far in Dylan’s old rear-wheel drive Lincoln Continental—not in the snow. Once he’d plowed part way up the logging road, the land yacht was completely immobilized. They had eventually started walking, but by then nearly every cop and state trooper within thirty miles was converging on that corner of the county. Will had picked them up, cold and tired, before they’d even reached the main road.
“You did fine,” he added, rubbing her arms. She almost couldn’t feel his touch through the heavy camo field jacket.
She just shook her head and walked away.
Chapter 30
Will did his best to comfort Jordan later, after all the other teens had been delivered to their homes and the two of them were hunkered down in her house, under his old quilt on the couch, with large cups of Gabe’s hot chocolate. Which she left untouched as she stared off into the distance. He had no idea why she was so upset, and if she wasn’t going to explain, he didn’t know what, exactly, he needed to talk her down from. She and Summer had done the right thing, and they’d acted quickly enough that law enforcement could track the couple down as fast as possible. Skylar was unhurt. Of course, Dylan, a twenty-one-year-old, was in serious trouble, but that was his own fault.
“Hey. Want to get out of here? Grab a beer at the Nail and Bail?”
Jordan just shook her head. “I don’t want to go out. I’m cold.”
“Do you think you’re coming down with something?”
She shook her head again. “No.”
“Okay.” He set his cup down on the end table and gathered her close, but it was like trying to hug a block of wood. “Jordan?”
“What?”
“Unclench.”
“Sorry.”
She shifted, but her change of position didn’t make it any easier to hold her. Her phone rang on the coffee table. She made no move to answer it.
“Are you going to get that?”
“It’s Summer.”
“How do you know?”
“I told you, I’m psychic.”
“Jordan.”
“Okay, it’s because I’m not stupid. She’s calling me because I’m off the program.”
“What?”
“Off, I said.”
“Are you trying to tell me you were let go? Because I don’t think—”
“It’s official. End of story.”
For the umpteenth time, he said, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Finally she looked him in the eye, but hers were blank, like she’d checked out. “Of course I did. It’s what I always do. Whether I intend to or not.”
“Cut it out.” He kissed her, but she barely kissed him back. “I think you’re just exhausted. Stretch out. Take a nap. Things’ll look better after you get some rest.”
“You’re so cute,” she murmured, but her voice was flat. Still, she did scoot down so her head was resting on his thigh. “Naïve, but cute.”
Jordan dropped off surprisingly quickly, and Will felt confident that fatigue was the only problem. He was restless, though. He wanted to help, but he didn’t know how. Acting as her pillow might have comforted her a bit—he couldn’t tell for sure—but sitting there until she woke up wasn’t as satisfying as getting to the bottom of all this. The investigator side of him kicked in. Tucking a throw pillow under her head, he eased himself out from under her, scribbled a brief note, and left it by her phone.
He headed to Nora’s Diner; Saturday night was always busy, which was what he was counting on. Sure enough, there were plenty of customers . . . including Summer. And Cam. In what looked like an intense conversation. As badly as Will wanted to ask Summer about Jordan, he didn’t interrupt them. Maybe they were talking about staying together. God, he hoped so.
Just as he moved to sit at the counter, Summer spotted him and waved him over. He shook his head, but she insisted. Curiosity about Jordan’s situation got the better of him, and he sat down with his brother and sister-in-law.
“How’s Jordan doing?” Summer asked immediately.
“Not good. She’s really down. Why’d she get fired, Summer?”
His pretty sister-in-law frowned, confused. “What are you talking about? She quit.”
“Wh—?” At Cam’s snicker, Will turned on him. “Now’s not the time, all right?”
“Don’t be a dick, Cameron,” his wife snapped. Cam retreated to his pile of fries. “Will, she said she didn’t want to continue. I really wanted her to stay, even though she finished her community service hours ages ago. She was doing so great with the girls. But she insisted. Why would she tell you she was let go?”
Will thought back over their conversation. “Well, she just said, ‘I’m out.’ She’s been so depressed, I just assumed you or Reverend Martin told her not to come back. I keep trying to tell her she did fine today, but she won’t listen.”
“I know.” Summer sighed, dragging her spoon through her soup. “I told her the same thing. She blames herself and I don’t know why.”
“It’s no big deal anyway,” Cam interjected. “It’s just Skylar.”
“Cam!” Summer gasped.
Cam was a little too blunt, as usual, but Will knew what he meant. Summer did, as well. This sort of thing was expected from the teen, what with her sketchy family history and the name she’d made for herself already (bullying and a bit of petit larceny here and there). All these years, the residents of Marsden had just been waiting for what they figured was inevitable—that she’d get into serious trouble one day. The fact that she�
��d tried to run off with a twenty-one-year-old guy—a member of the “no-good Glover clan,” no less? Typical Skylar. What else did she have up her sleeve? Time would only tell, but her neighbors expected the worst. Always had.
Oh. Will froze in the middle of reaching for Cam’s fries. That pretty much explained everything. Jordan had said it herself: “I’m them, a dozen years later.” She’d said it unapologetically, as a simple fact. She shouldn’t have blamed herself for Skylar’s choices, but if she saw no difference between the girls and herself, of course it would depress her. It’d depress anyone. He still thought she was being too hard on herself, though.
Will decided to head back to the house to check on her, first ordering two cheeseburgers to go. By now, she’d probably be awake—and starving.
When Will came down Maple Avenue, his stomach clenched at the sight of Jordan’s place: no lights on anywhere. Had she—? But then he realized her car was still in the driveway. She’d probably just gone to bed early. Hot on the heels of his relief was the disturbing thought that he’d been expecting her to disappear. Because this was still Jordan, after all. Would he ever trust her not to run?
He quietly let himself into the house, put the food in the fridge, went upstairs. Again, he felt relief, this time at the sight of Jordan’s slight shape under the blankets in bed. Fred was curled up in a tight ball on the other pillow, nose in his belly. Will undressed, draped his clothes on the chair in the corner, and slipped under the covers. He lifted Fred off the pillow, eliciting a surprisingly human-sounding grunt from the cat, and placed him at the foot of the bed. Offended at being demoted, Fred jumped down and stalked off to find a different place to sleep.
Will had barely put his head on the pillow, still warm from Fred’s body, when Jordan spoke in the darkness. “I know you don’t think it’s my fault, but it is.”
“Stop saying that.” He slipped an arm around her waist and pressed against her back, molding to her body.
“The other girls told me about Skylar and Dylan. They were worried, Sydney especially. She asked me to talk to Skylar, and I did.”
“Okay.”
“I didn’t believe they’d do it—not really—so I didn’t stop her. I didn’t even ask how old Dylan was. I didn’t tell her not to go. I didn’t take her seriously.”
In the subsequent silence, Will heard the echo of Celia’s scolding words at the wedding: Because you’re never serious. About anything. He knew that was exactly what Jordan was remembering and taking to heart. He pulled her closer, wanting to draw the guilt out of her like a poison, but she was stiff in his arms again, just like earlier. He couldn’t help her. God, he wanted to, more than anything. But he couldn’t.
When she spoke again, he wasn’t really surprised at her words.
“I . . . have to go. For a while. I’m not running away,” she added quickly. “I swear I’m not.”
“You know, it kind of sounds exactly like that.”
“I have things to take care of. I can’t do them here. It’s not about this. Well, not all of it.”
Will heard an ache in her voice, but his irritation that she wasn’t even trying to overcome her panic, even though she’d promised him she’d let him help if she ever felt that way, won out over his sympathy for her.
“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” He winced at how impersonal his voice was. “You need a good night’s sleep, and so do I.”
“It won’t be any different in the morning.”
Sighing, he removed his arm from her waist and rolled over onto his back. It was going to be a long night.
The sound of movement filtered through Will’s sleep, and it took him a few seconds to realize what was waking him up bit by bit. He wasn’t all that surprised when he opened his eyes to see a backpack and a duffel bag. And Jordan dressed and ready to go.
Rubbing his face with his hands, he groaned a little as he studied her. She was pale and grim-faced in the thin morning light. He sat up as she hoisted her backpack onto one shoulder.
All he said was, “Don’t.” It came out sharp and cold. He wasn’t sure he cared how he sounded.
She tugged on the duffel bag. “I need you to trust me.”
“Yeah, well, you’re making that pretty hard to do right now.”
“Take care of Fred, okay?”
“Jordan.”
“I’ll try to stay in touch. Don’t call me. I’ll be busy.”
“Jordan, come on.”
“I’ve gotta go.”
“Can you at least tell me where you’re going? Or how long you’re going to be gone?” Or if you’re actually coming back at all?
“Couple of places. Don’t know how long. Lock the door behind you when you leave, okay?”
“Jordan, for God’s sake—!” He was shouting. Because he just couldn’t contain himself any longer.
“Just let me do this, would you please?” she snapped back. “I can’t stay here right now!”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. She walked out of the room without another word. The front door slammed a moment later. Frustrated and furious, he hurled a pillow across the room, eliciting an irate yowl from Fred, whom he’d narrowly missed.
Will’s phone pinged. He almost didn’t check his text, just out of spite. Or resignation. Or defeat. He wasn’t sure which. Probably all three, and a few hundred other feelings besides. He didn’t have the energy to sort it all out. Instead, he stayed stretched out on his bed, the TV prattling away although he didn’t hear a word, and focused on scritching Fred under his chin. Motor running, the cat stretched his neck out: More please. Yes, there. A little to the left. At least the cat liked him, as long as he kept the scritchings and the food coming, of course. He couldn’t even keep Jordan with those same things.
He knew the text was from her. Maybe there was something to that psychic stuff she trotted out every once in a while.
. . . Nah.
The reminder alert went off, scolding him for not having read his latest communication yet. Heaving a sigh, Will pushed himself off the bed and reached for the device on his desk. Fred squinted at him, blatantly miffed that the scritchings had ceased, and silently commanding the human to resume as quickly as possible. Opening his texts with one thumb, Will obeyed, petting the cat again with his other hand.
Yep, Jordan actually had the audacity to text him.
This stuff couldn’t wait. Need you to believe me.
“Right.”
Take care of Fred.
“I’m already taking care of Fred,” he muttered at the words on the screen. He looked around the room. “And now she’s got me talking to myself.”
He refused to respond with a text of his own. Not because he had nothing to say, but because he had too much to say. And he just didn’t have the energy to put it all into words at the moment. He put his phone down and let Fred walk on his chest. The cat head-butted him in the chin, demanding more attention.
“Like cat, like owner, huh?”
He petted Fred more vigorously. At least he stuck around.
Several minutes later, another text came in. Jordan again.
This isn’t the same as last time. Don’t freak.
Pause.
It’s not because of you.
Will was so tempted to call her out on her variant of the old “it’s not you, it’s me” excuse, but he wasn’t about to chat with her now.
I am NOT saying “it’s not you, it’s me.” Quit it. And will you answer me?
Not a chance. Even after promising to come to him first if she got spooked and started thinking about running, she’d broken the rule at the first opportunity. Why should he give her a second chance?
Fine. I know you’re reading these, so I’ll say this. Then I’ll stop before you block me. (Don’t you dare block me!)
Will smiled a little, even though he hated himself for it.
The things I have to take care of are private. I can tell you later.
Like that was going to happen, Will thought. Fool me
once and all that nonsense.
But he didn’t block her. Instead, he texted back one thing:
Do what you want. Don’t bother checking in.
Jordan stopped texting.
He did just happen to be out by the senior home the next day. And if he happened to be at the senior home, he knew he really should drop in on Aunt Tilly. And before he left, he might as well say hello to Holly. Since he was passing the condos on his way out, and all.
Not that Holly had any answers.
“What do you want me to tell you, Billy honey?” she sighed, dropping into her favorite chair. “You know Jordan.”
“Do you know where she went?”
Her grandmother paused. “I do.”
“Did she go to her parents’ house?”
“Why? You want to follow her?”
As a matter of fact, the thought had crossed his mind. And lodged there, if he was going to be honest about it. Because aside from his initial snit about her leaving again, he couldn’t give up on her that easily. Because he didn’t want to just sit back and wait for her to get her head straight. Because he didn’t trust her to come back of her own accord.
Because he didn’t trust her.
Holly was speaking again: “Besides, you could look up her old address, but her parents aren’t there anymore.”
“They moved? Why?”
“She’ll have to tell you.”
“Where can I find her, Holly?”
“In my old house. On Maple Avenue. When she’s ready.”