by David Bell
When he showed up alongside her that day after school, she jumped a little as he said hello. He apologized, and she told him he’d materialized like a ghost.
“God, I hope not,” he said. “Not yet.”
He asked Jenna a lot of questions about her family and her life. What did her mom and dad do? What did she do for fun? Did she have siblings? She answered all his questions, trying to keep the nervous edge out of her voice so he didn’t think she was a babbling, bumbling idiot. But when she turned the questions back to him, when she asked about his family and his friends and his life, he didn’t reveal much. Even then, a screen existed, a barrier Ian didn’t seem to want to let Jenna see behind.
They said good-bye in front of her house, and only then did Jenna wonder about how far Ian would have to walk to get back home. She knew his family lived in a nice new subdivision, one a couple of miles on the other side of their school. She thought about calling him back, offering for her mother to give him a ride. But she didn’t speak up. Ian seemed so at ease walking away, so sure of who he was and where he was going, that she figured he had it under control. People like Ian always had a way.
The next day, Jenna told Celia that she didn’t have to worry about how she made it home, that Ian ended up walking her. Celia didn’t say anything. She gave Jenna a knowing look, one that Jenna didn’t fully understand at the time, but two days later she did when Celia and Ian were a couple, and the barrier that had always existed with Ian, the one Jenna hoped over time might fall away, became permanent. They spent time together over the years, but always with Celia there. And only in the context of Jenna being Celia’s friend and not really Ian’s.
The waiter came back one more time, as the restaurant started to fill. People stood near the front door, waiting for tables. And Jenna sat by herself with only a glass of water in front of her. She checked her watch. Twenty minutes had passed. Maybe Ian had been held up. Maybe he just didn’t want to deal with her.
“Are you sure you don’t want to order something?” he asked. Between the lines, Jenna heard what he really meant. Are you ever going to order something?
“My friend, the person I’m meeting, he should be here very soon.”
And then the crowd at the door parted a little, and Ian stepped through. He looked across the restaurant and made eye contact with Jenna. He nodded, his lips a compressed line.
He was there.
• • •
When Ian reached the table, Jenna didn’t know what to do.
Since that awful November morning, the two of them had found themselves in the same room on more than one occasion. The police station, the volunteer headquarters. But every time Jenna wanted to speak to Ian, to offer him some form of an apology for her part in the events that led to Celia’s disappearance, she couldn’t get close. Either circumstances beyond their control intervened, or Ian steered himself away, walking in the opposite direction in a manner that didn’t feel entirely purposeful but still left Jenna feeling shut out. And blamed.
Jenna stood up, and the waiter retreated. In full adulthood, Ian stood six-four. He was long and lean like a basketball player, and his suit—the jacket and pants black, the white shirt open-necked without a tie—fit him as though it was custom-made, which it no doubt was. He wore a look of caution, his face impassive, his hands close to his body. Jenna took a half step forward, wondering if they were going to hug. Wouldn’t two old friends do that? Wouldn’t two old friends who had shared a mutual loss do that very thing?
But Ian kept his distance. He reached for the chair and not Jenna, so she had no choice but to follow suit and take her seat again, this time across from him. The waiter rematerialized and handed Ian a menu, which he set aside, ordering water and placing his hands on the table. Jenna was able to study his face and saw that the previous few months had taken a toll. His hair contained some strands of gray that Jenna swore had never been there before, and his eyes looked tired. Lines were starting to form in their corners, and she believed the lids looked heavier, weighted down by the seemingly endless days that had passed since Celia disappeared.
“If you’re hungry you can order something,” he said. “I’m not that hungry. I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”
And Jenna noticed that change to his body as well. Ian wasn’t just trim and fit. His face looked gaunter, the skin on his cheeks drawn tight.
“I guess I’m fine,” she said.
“My treat.”
“It’s okay,” Jenna said. “I can pay if I order something.”
Ian reached out for his water and took a long drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. When he put the glass down, he said, “What did you want to talk to me about?”
What did she want to talk to him about?
How did she sum up the feelings of the past few months? “Detective Poole came and talked to me today. First time in almost a month.”
Jenna let her statement hang in the air, expecting Ian to ask what the detective wanted to talk to her about. But he didn’t say anything. He waited for her to go on.
But Jenna couldn’t do it. She couldn’t talk about other things until the original problem between them was addressed. “Ian, I have to tell you something.”
“Okay.”
Jenna glanced out the window, where she saw people coming and going from the small clothing shop next door. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry, that she wouldn’t let the emotion of the moment get the best of her. She certainly didn’t want to cry in front of Ian. He’d always been proper, always been a little reserved, but as an adult he’d become ever more serious. Stoic, withdrawn Ian.
She didn’t look at him when she said, “You know I’m sorry about that night. I’m sorry I ever called Celia. I’m sorry I was late and that I even proposed meeting in that way. I’ve spent the last three months wishing I could undo that one phone call, those plans. You know I’d do anything to change that, and I’m sorry.”
She thought she was out of words, so she turned back and faced him. She was surprised to see the emotion registering on his face. He looked down at the tabletop, and while she studied him, choking back her own tears, she thought she saw his chin quiver ever so slightly. Just as quickly, he composed himself, clearing his throat and reaching for the water again. When he put the glass down, he said, “I know. It’s okay.”
“I feel like the whole town blames me.” She waited a moment. “Like you blame me.”
He looked up at her, the most animation she’d seen in years spreading across his face. Some of the weight seemed to lift from his features. The lines smoothed, the skin became less taut. “Not at all. Never. Look at everything that could have happened. She thought someone was following her.”
“Do you think that’s true?” Jenna asked. “I mean, did you notice anything?”
Ian took a moment to answer. “No, certainly not. But I wasn’t home a lot. Celia thought a car followed her a couple of times. And then she thought she saw the car parked on our street. If I’d known . . .” His top teeth bit down on his lower lip. “If I’d known there was really something to worry about, I’d have gone out to that car myself. But it could be nothing. She couldn’t identify the car. It was always dark.”
“And you told the police about it as soon as she disappeared, didn’t you?” Jenna asked.
Ian gave her a look as if she were stupid. “Of course I did, Jenna. How could I not?” He leaned in. “I even gave them a name. A business associate of mine, someone I thought might have wanted to harass me or my family. They looked into it. Thoroughly.”
“They did?”
“They followed a lot of leads, Jenna. If they could make something stick, they would.”
“And now Benny Ludlow and the earring. You remember him from school, don’t you?”
“Sure, he was a total weirdo. A scary guy.”
“So, did he . . . was he
ever a threat to Celia?”
Ian bit down on his lower lip. “Who knows? Didn’t he slime around every girl in the school? Maybe he was following her.” Color rose in his cheeks. “If it’s someone like that, some worthless little man who hurt Celia . . .” He looked angry and hurt. “I guess I should assume it’s a worthless little man of some kind. Who else would go around hurting women?” His jaw clenched. “Jenna, I’m so damn tired of getting my hopes up. It just wears me the hell out, you know?”
“It’s like being kicked in the stomach repeatedly.”
“I was going to say kicked in the balls,” Ian said, “but I get your point. Look, you were, are, Celia’s best friend. You can’t be held responsible for what happened. You were just living your life, doing the things you two always did. Don’t worry about it. Lord knows every one of us could go back and find a million things we’ve done wrong.”
Jenna wanted to feel immediately lighter, to sense the burden she’d been carrying floating away above and beyond the ceiling. When that didn’t happen, she pressed ahead.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice close to a whisper. “And Ursula?”
“She wouldn’t think that way about you. She’s always been crazy about you.”
“Good. How is she doing?”
Ian’s gesture, a slight lifting of his shoulders in a kind of shrug, said he wasn’t entirely sure about his daughter. “She’s doing her best. She’s a little more like me than Celia in the sense that she doesn’t open up. I know she’s grieving and lost, but she puts on a brave face. I’ve offered to have her homeschooled or anything she wants really, but she tells me she’s fine. She goes to school. She spends time with her friends. In some ways, her life is no different. But there’s no mom in the house for her. My mother tries to fill in, but it’s not the same.”
“If I can help, let me know.”
Ian nodded. “Thanks.” He looked around the dining room until he made eye contact with the waiter. “I am hungry after all. Just a little. You?”
“Sure,” Jenna said.
Ian ordered a sandwich and Jenna a salad. When the waiter was gone again and the menus cleared, Jenna contemplated the normality of the scene. There she was, sitting in a nice restaurant having lunch with Ian Walters. The scene could have happened at any time during the past twenty-seven years, but it took Celia’s disappearance for the two of them to share the most commonplace experience.
“I saw the news last night,” Ian said.
“Oh, God.”
“Becky McGee called me too, trying to get me to show up out there at that crime scene that wasn’t a crime scene. I told her no, of course.”
“I guess you’re smarter than me.”
“It’s not easy to say no. It feels like being there, if something happened, would somehow complete things.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought. I thought—”
She stopped the stream of words just in time.
Ian nodded, his face full of sympathy. “You didn’t want Celia to be alone.”
“Yes.”
“I understand. I had to weigh that against . . . well, against being a pawn in some journalist’s game. Against being put on display like a monkey.”
“I played right into their hands. They can loop video of me for the next few days. They can make the bleep louder and longer.”
One end of Ian’s mouth turned up as he laughed. A low, subtle sound, but a laugh nonetheless. “I don’t normally watch that coverage. I can’t stand to see that Reena Huffman and her hysterics. But Ursula saw the clip somewhere and showed it to me.”
“Great. Everyone is seeing it. I’ve been avoiding my mother. She’s thrilled, I’m sure.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “It reminded me of what you were like in high school. Definitely a loose cannon.”
“Some things never change, I guess.”
“And your mom’s still uptight? Thinks you’re not ladylike enough?”
“Naturally.” Jenna swallowed. “Ian, are the police still treating you like a suspect?”
“Lord, Jenna, you’re not holding anything back, are you?”
“I’d like to think this isn’t the right time, but who knows when I’ll get to talk to you again?”
“It would be nice to have a break from all that.”
“You can’t expect that with me.”
“I’m not a suspect. Officially. I’m sure plenty of people think I am.”
He paused, as though he expected Jenna to contradict him, but she didn’t.
He said, “They sure as hell treated me like one for the entire month of November. About the only thing they didn’t do was give me a rectal exam.”
“They always suspect the husband.”
“Of course. And I cooperated fully.” He looked around the room and nodded to an older man who seemed to know him. “My alibi’s thin, I know that. I was home, with my daughter. I made a phone call to my mother. That’s all I’ve got. I can’t change what I was doing. It was late at night. Talk about hell . . . your wife disappears and then you become a suspect. A nice double whammy.”
The food came, and for a few minutes their conversation died while they ate. The voices around them murmured on. A middle-aged woman in a business suit came over and shook Ian’s hand, making some comment about golfing together again in the spring.
Jenna was halfway through her salad and wishing she’d ordered an iced tea or a Coke when Ian asked, “What did the police want with you? As if I don’t already know.”
“You think you know?” Jenna asked.
Ian ignored her question, his voice taking on a new urgency. “You tell me. What exactly did they want?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jenna set her silverware aside.
“Poole wanted to ask me about Holly Crenshaw. You know the woman who disappeared from Clay County? She wanted to know if I knew her. Or I guess she wanted to know if I knew if Celia knew her.”
“She didn’t. Neither one of us did.”
“Not even casually?”
“Okay, I can’t account for everyone either of us ever said hello to at the club, but we didn’t know her. She worked in the office. They’re looking for a connection, and it isn’t there. Not that way.”
“But it could be the same person,” Jenna said. “There could be someone hurting women. Celia and Holly Crenshaw do resemble each other. And maybe I only know this from watching TV shows, but don’t these creeps have a type? You know, brown hair or blond hair or whatever. Maybe even Benny Ludlow.”
Ian held his sandwich in his hands, but he set it down. He looked as if he had a bad taste in his mouth, and Jenna wished she hadn’t started offering half-baked theories about kidnappers.
“I’m sorry, Ian. I don’t know what to make of any of it. But it seems like there hasn’t been any progress in a long time, so if they follow this Holly Crenshaw trail and it takes them somewhere, I’m all for it.” He wasn’t looking at her, so she waited until he did. “I want her back. I want to know she’s okay. If this maybe helps us, I don’t mind answering the questions.”
Ian moved his head the slightest bit, his attempt at an understanding nod. But he didn’t look convinced by any of it. The things she spoke about weren’t reaching him, and she still wondered what he meant when he said, “As if I don’t know.”
The waiter brought a piece of cake to the party next to them, and then came up to their table and asked how they were doing. Ian dismissed him with the slightest wave of his hand, almost like a magic trick, or as if the two of them had worked out a signal that said leave us alone. But Jenna knew it wasn’t a signal. It was power and class, the ability to barely lift your hand or arch your eyebrow and make someone go away.
She remembered another look, the one Detective Poole gave her when she asked about Ian and Celia’s marriage.
“That
wasn’t all she wanted to ask me about,” Jenna said, her tone tentative. “She was hinting around about your marriage.”
“She shouldn’t do that.”
“Should or shouldn’t, people do ask these things when someone disappears. It’s the same as you being a suspect. It’s natural.”
“Natural?”
Jenna sipped her water. “Maybe I’ve been a fool. I’ve been going around ever since Celia disappeared telling everyone who asks what a great marriage the two of you have.” She watched Ian’s face. It didn’t change as she spoke. “I just told that to Detective Poole again today. But do I really know that? Did I even really know Celia anymore? I certainly don’t know you well.”
“Jenna—”
“I don’t want to be made a fool of anymore. I’ve been doing that well enough on my own. Tell me, Ian. Why was Poole asking about your marriage that way?”
He held her gaze a long time. Then he said, “You do know Celia very well. That’s true. You’re her best friend. I know her well too. But that doesn’t mean I knew everything.” He didn’t look away as he spoke, so Jenna saw in his eyes the effort the words were costing him. Each one that emerged from his mouth added a layer of pain. “It wasn’t the first time,” he said. “This most recent one. The one going on right when she disappeared.”
Jenna felt as if she’d fallen behind in the conversation. Had she missed something? Ian seemed to be talking in code, one that implied something about Celia.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I’m assuming you didn’t know this, or you would have had the good sense to tell the police. Tell me you didn’t know about this, Jenna. Celia said you didn’t.”
“Know what?”
And then the picture started to clear. Ian’s hints, his inability to say it directly.