by David Bell
Her voice grew faint, disappearing into the traffic sounds and the soft whooshing of the wind through the naked trees. Ursula looked small, more like a child than a teenager. The wind lifted her hair, brushing it across her face.
Jenna closed the distance between them, reaching out as she came alongside Ursula. She’d known her since the day she was born. Had held her and changed her, babysat for her and bathed her. She placed her arm around Ursula’s back, felt the girl stiffen at her touch.
“This isn’t easy for any of us,” Jenna said. “Maybe you’re right. But I’m not crazy about any of us going on TV right now. Maybe we can reach out to a different reporter. I’m not getting burned by Reena.”
Ursula’s body remained stiff, as if infused with iron. But Jenna didn’t let her go.
“I just want it all to be over,” Ursula said. “You know? I just want it all to be over. I’m sick of this limbo life we’re all living.”
“I know,” Jenna said.
She felt the girl soften a little under her touch. Ursula didn’t give in and fully accept the hug, but she moved closer to Jenna, her body easing in.
“Your mom . . . she loves you very much,” Jenna said. “I’m sure you know that.”
Ursula closed her eyes. Jenna thought tears would come then, bursting out through the girl’s closed lids. But they didn’t. She kept that look on her face for a moment, and then slipped out of Jenna’s grasp.
“Do you want a ride?” Jenna asked. “I drove and it’s cold.”
“I’m meeting a friend.”
“Will you call me if you need anything?” Jenna asked. “You can. I hope you know that.”
Ursula stopped on her way to the side of the band shell, the place she’d emerged from minutes earlier.
“I need this to be over,” she said. “That’s all.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
When they returned home, Jenna approached the house cautiously.
Domino55 might be around. Whoever he was.
Jenna carried her pepper spray in one hand and insisted on walking ahead of Jared.
“Shouldn’t I go first?” he asked. “I’m supposed to be the man of the house.”
“Not until you pay rent,” she said. “Until then, I’m the man of the house.”
But there were no problems. No sign of anyone lurking in the bushes. No sign of any break-in. As Jenna slipped her key into the lock, the bright glare of the porch light illuminating her work, a police cruiser rolled by, the extra protection promised by Naomi Poole.
Jenna breathed easier as they went inside. But she still made sure to turn the dead bolt behind her, to do whatever she could to keep out everything that needed to be kept out.
Jared went out to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He slid containers and jars around while Jenna stopped behind him, leaning against the counter.
“Do you want me to make you something?” she asked.
“I’m good. I’m not really hungry. I’m just looking.”
“I feel terrible for Ursula,” Jenna said. “She seemed so alone. So small and lost.”
Jared took out a jar of pickles and closed the refrigerator. “Sure. You’re right.” He opened the jar and started munching, pickle juice dripping onto the floor.
Jenna pointed at the mess.
“Sorry,” he said and leaned over the sink. “She’s . . . yeah, I feel bad for her. She lost her mom. She’s trying to get by as best she can. I should be sympathetic when she’s cold.”
“I need to do a better job for her,” Jenna said. “I hope getting back in touch with Ian allows me to do that. Celia would have liked it, don’t you think?”
“You talking to Ursula? Or Ian?”
“Ursula,” Jenna said quickly. “Well, both.”
Jared shrugged and took another pickle from the jar. “Sure. I guess.”
Jenna’s phone rang. She looked at the screen. “Shit. It’s Naomi.”
“So?”
“I jump out of my skin every time she calls.”
The phone kept ringing.
“Not answering it doesn’t change whatever she has to tell you,” Jared said.
Jenna watched him wipe pickle juice off his chin. “When did you get so wise?”
She took the call.
“Can I bend your ear for a minute?” Naomi asked.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, no. There’s no news.”
Jenna’s heart was beating fast. She took deep breaths, trying to slow it down. Would she be jumping this way at the sound of a phone for the rest of her life?
“I guess that’s good,” Jenna said.
“I hear Reena is on your case to do the show again,” Naomi said.
“She is.” Jenna felt angry just thinking of Reena’s smug face. “I told her I’d think about it. She wants Jared to go on as well.”
“So, what are you thinking?” Naomi asked.
“I think I’d hate myself if I could have gone on that show and made a difference. If one person knew something about Celia or Natalie and my going on there could have tipped the scales. I know it’s crazy.”
“Not entirely. But you don’t sound certain.”
“I’m not, Naomi.” Jenna tried to keep her voice level. “I hate that bitch. I hate her overly made up, sanctimonious guts. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let her anywhere near my son.”
“That’s good.”
“You know who I’d feel like if I went on there?”
“Who?” Naomi asked.
“Charlie Brown.”
“Trying to kick the football every year?”
“Exactly. Tell me, Naomi, tell me I don’t have to go on. Tell me it won’t really make a difference.”
“Jenna, the word about Celia and Natalie is out on loads of news outlets and social media sites. You don’t have to carry the whole burden alone. You know that, don’t you? You’re not in this alone.”
The detective’s words brought a catch of emotion to Jenna’s throat. Simple. Direct. Calming.
She wasn’t alone.
“Then can I tell Reena to screw off?” she asked.
“I wish you would,” Naomi said.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Jenna didn’t want to watch the next night.
She tried to channel Ian, his detached calm, his refusal to get drawn into any of the messy emotional scenes surrounding Celia’s disappearance.
She tried reading another romance novel. She tried cooking. She stood over the stove with her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and made an omelet and bacon, the little splatters of grease hitting her wrist and hands and decorating the backsplash.
But she knew Reena was in town. In town and on TV.
And she wouldn’t be in town and on TV unless she had something important to say.
Jenna shook her head. She didn’t regret skipping the interview. Not at all. She wasn’t sure how she would have reacted if she’d been in the same room with Reena. She wasn’t a violent person, never had been. And it was rare for one woman to ask another to step outside and solve a problem with their fists.
But Jenna wanted to. She wanted to channel months of frustration and fear and sadness into one punch that connected with Reena’s overly powdered nose.
So Jenna was glad to be at home.
But she found herself in front of the TV when the ominous and overly dramatic theme music for Reena’s show started playing.
Jared came into the room and sat on the end of the couch. “You’re going to watch the freak show?”
“I’m ashamed of myself.”
“It’s kind of like porn, I guess,” he said.
Jenna looked up. She remembered Sally’s assertion that all men, including Jared, looked at porn. She started to ask but stopped herself.
“I’m glad we didn’t go on there,” Jared said.
“Are you?”
“Yeah. I don’t think it’s a good scene. I don’t think it helps. Like I said, it’s a freak show.”
“I think you’re right,” Jenna said. “No, I know you’re right. I just want Celia and Natalie to be found. I’d give anything for that.”
“I know you would,” Jared said. He slid down off the arm and onto the couch seat. “God, her makeup is horrible.”
Reena came on the screen. A live shot in front of the police station. The scenery around her looked so wholesome, so safe and homey, it was hard to believe such horrible crimes had happened in Hawks Mill. That people looked at each other with suspicion, that no one felt safe in their houses anymore.
Reena loved the contrast. It played right into her hands. She loved to sit on TV and scare middle America.
Reena jumped right in. She didn’t bother to bring her audience up to speed on either Celia’s or Natalie’s cases. She acted as if the unseen audience were an old friend, someone who was able to just pick up on the never-ending story of murder and betrayal and mayhem that Reena brought to their homes every night.
“I’m here in Hawks Mill, live in front of the police station in this beautiful town, because there is breaking news in the case of Celia Waters, the missing Diamond Mom. And, of course, we have the latest news on the case of Holly Crenshaw and yet another murder here in this picturesque little town. And this time the victim was a middle-aged man.”
Jenna’s hand moved toward the remote, an involuntary gesture. She knew she should turn it off. She knew she should look away.
But Jared was there, watching. And Jenna knew she couldn’t avert her eyes. Reena’s show was too much of a train wreck.
“. . . and you know I’ve had my doubts about Jenna Barton, the friend of Celia Walters who showed up late that night, that tragic night Celia disappeared. Snatched away by some animal.”
Reena’s bright red lips pursed. She shook her head, so disgusted by all of it. Jenna knew Reena loved every minute, every controversial, overblown minute of the spectacle.
“We’ve now learned why Jenna Barton was late that night. This is an exclusive, people, one you need to pay attention to. One that involves a lie Jenna Barton told, and a crime committed by a minor.”
Jenna looked over and locked eyes with Jared. He paled, his lips parting but no words coming out.
“What is she talking about?” Jenna asked, not expecting an answer.
“She couldn’t,” Jared said.
They turned back to the TV.
“As it happens, Jenna was late to meet Celia that night—and this information comes from a reliable source. A rock-solid source. Believe me, I never bring anything on the air unless it’s rock solid.” She pointed a manicured nail at the screen. “You can count on that.”
“What a fake-ass bitch,” Jenna said.
“It turns out Jenna’s son was involved in an underage drinking incident. He’s fifteen. That’s why Jenna was late that fateful night. That’s why she didn’t meet her best friend. That’s why Celia Walters was taken off the streets by a maniac. And yet Jenna Barton lied about it—”
Jenna threw the remote as hard as she could. It missed the TV—fortunately—but shattered against the wall.
“Mom?”
“Turn it off,” she said, her voice barely under control. “Just turn it off so I don’t have to see that witch’s face ever again.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Jared’s fingers scrambled around the edges of the TV until he found the power switch. He pressed it, and Reena’s face disappeared. He looked down at the floor. The remote was in a few pieces, the batteries scattered.
He couldn’t remember ever seeing his mom throw anything in anger.
He turned to face her.
“Did you tell anybody else?” she asked, her voice level and strong. Every word fell like a brick.
“I told you. I mentioned it in the park to those guys and—”
“Ursula,” she said, finishing the thought. “What about Mike?”
“He wouldn’t say anything. Never.”
His mom pulled her phone out.
“Mom? What are you doing? I mean, this is all over the TV. She just called me a criminal. You too, I guess. Are we going to get in trouble for this?”
She looked up from the phone. “No. Not at all. You have nothing to worry about. I promise.”
Her firmness made him feel better. A little.
He guessed there were worse things than being outed for holding alcohol. Maybe it would make other kids at school think he was a wild partier, even if it wasn’t true.
“Who are you calling?” he asked.
But she didn’t answer. He saw the veins standing out in her neck, the whiteness of the knuckles that held the phone.
Ursula.
His mom’s voice went up a little bit on the phone. He heard her say, “Ian.”
He’d expected that. First Ursula pushed Jared to go on TV. Jared could remember, like probing a healing bruise with his index finger, the touch of Ursula’s hand against his knee.
And then she went to the media—to Reena—with the story about his mom’s lie. The lie that covered up for Jared.
Why?
Jared wandered back to his room, giving his mom privacy. It was Friday night, and he had no plans. That wasn’t unusual, since he didn’t always have plans. And even when he did, they consisted of going to Syd’s or Mike’s, or having one or both of them come over to his house.
He wished Natalie could be there. He wished they could go out and do something.
His mom came by his room. Her cheeks were red, and she carried her phone in her hand. “Are you okay if I step out for a minute?”
“Sure.”
“Really, Jared. You’ll be here alone. Maybe I shouldn’t go.”
“What’s going to happen to me?” he asked. “Will I get a ticket for underage drinking?”
She smirked and raised her eyebrows, as if to say, We all know what can happen to people. We know it all too well.
“Are you worried about this Domino guy too?” Jared asked.
“That’s part of it.”
“I’ll lock the door,” he said. “I promise.”
“Do you want me to call Grandma? She can come over and sit with you. Or Sally?”
“Grandma? She’s going to call and chew you out now that she knows I had booze in the house. And I’m not a child. Remember?”
“I’m going to call Detective Poole. She’ll send a patrol car by just to be safe. Okay?”
Jared sighed. “Okay. Hey, Mom? Are you okay?”
His mom let out a sound of throaty frustration. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking. I’m just pissed. Very, very pissed.”
“We’re going to need a new remote.”
She laughed a little. “I guess I’m not always a good example, am I?”
“I kind of thought it was cool. Just like when you cursed on TV that day.”
“I’m teaching you a lot of good lessons.” She started to go, then stopped. “Hey, aren’t you wondering where I’m going?”
“I know where you’re going.”
“Where?”
“You’re going to ask Ian what the hell’s wrong with his daughter.”
She nodded. “Doors locked. You hear?”
“I hear.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
• • •
Once she was gone, Jared pulled out his phone. He sent a text to Mike, asking what he was doing.
Nada, he replied.
Are the country clubbers partying tonight?
Probably.
Can u find out where?
Will check my sources.
Jared changed hi
s clothes and pulled on sneakers. He checked his hair in the mirror once, tousled it around with his hands, and decided he looked relatively cool. Certainly not rich, but also not someone who would hang out on the bottom rung of the social ladder. He was somewhere in the middle, which wasn’t a bad place to be most of the time. It might not be enough to get into a rich kids’ party, but he intended to try.
His phone chimed.
You know that asshole Kirk Embry? His house.
We have 2 go.
Can’t. Grounded. Mom caught me w cigs. Take big Syd.
Need you. Get out.
There was a long pause. Jared thought Mike had ended the conversation. Or had his phone snatched away by his mother.
But then one more text came through.
K. Meet u behind school in 15.
He knew the cops might be out there, checking on the house. But they couldn’t watch every door all the time. Not because of a phone call that might be a prank.
Jared grabbed his coat and slipped out the back.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
It felt surreal for Jenna to be back in that house again.
Ian opened the door for her, and as she stepped into the foyer, the light above providing a soft glow, every surface below dusted and polished to perfection, she tried to remember that last time she’d been there. Two days after Celia disappeared. A flurry of activity that day. Cops and volunteers and media. People in the kitchen making signs and brewing coffee, hangers-on milling and gawking at the edge of the property line.
Ian closed the door, but before he did, he stuck his head out, looking first one way and then the other. She didn’t know if he was checking for nosy neighbors or media, and she didn’t ask.
He led her out to the kitchen. Jenna expected Celia to appear at any time. Up until a few years ago, it was always that way. Jenna would arrive at the house—late as usual—and she’d walk out to the kitchen, where she’d find Celia languidly enjoying a glass of wine or a gin and tonic. Maybe she’d be sitting with a much younger Ursula working on homework, or maybe she’d have a magazine or her cell phone in front of her, and when Jenna would walk in she’d look up, her face breaking into a smile.