“The truth is that they wouldn’t,” I explained. “I’m not on the missing-persons task force. They can’t tell me every time they learn anything new. Besides, because of Stella’s and my relationship, they’re less likely to tell me anything until they know for sure. They wouldn’t want to get my hopes up.”
“But . . . if they found something, that wouldn’t get your hopes up. If they found her”—this time she couldn’t disguise the audible cry before she whispered—“body.”
“Nothing like that has happened. I promise you, if anything like that is found, you’ll be contacted.”
“It’s strange how grown children live their own lives and as parents we’re OK with that. Days and weeks can go by without speaking, and it’s all right, because it means your children are doing what you raised them to do, to be independent, to be adults, and then in an instant it can all change . . .”
I clenched my teeth as I listened. Stella’s mother had told me once that her therapist said talking to me would be helpful, therapeutic even for her loss. Sometimes the conversations were more upbeat, about Stella’s sister, the one who’d been divorced. She’d recently remarried. Apparently losing a sister—well, having a sister go missing—had made her reevaluate her choices. The man she’d married had been her friend and now they had a child on the way. Beverly was elated at the prospect of being a grandparent. And then she’d think again about Stella and how much she’d enjoy being an aunt. Some conversations were too difficult to continue.
“. . . thank you.”
I’d been listening, but also watching the moving traffic. I didn’t hear why she was thanking me, but didn’t want to ask.
“You’re welcome. I look forward to your calls.”
“I wish . . . well, a lot of things. I remember how excited Stella was that she’d asked you to our house for Christmas. I’m never giving up hope, but I want you to know, we’ll always think of you as part of this family, even if you”—she took a deep breath—“find someone else.”
“I’m not dating, but maybe someday. I’m not ready to give up either.”
“I meant to tell you.” Beverly’s voice filled with a new sense of excitement.
“What?”
“Bernard Cooper called me the other day.”
I felt my grip tighten around the steering wheel. “He did?”
“Yes. It wasn’t much, but since both Stella and Mindy went missing, apparently there’s been an internal investigation at WCJB. They hired some computer forensic guy. You know they never found either one of the girls’ personal laptops, but they’ve been able to uncover deleted files from the television station’s server.”
“They have? What have they learned?”
“Nothing yet. But he was very excited about the possibility of discovering more. I am too. Anything is better than nothing.”
“Please keep me up to date on Bernard’s progress.”
She sighed. “I will. I was afraid he hadn’t told you.”
“We spoke quite a bit when she first . . . but we don’t exactly see eye to eye on everything.”
“I get the feeling that Mr. Cooper feels responsible, like a father who didn’t do all he should have for his children. Both girls’ disappearances have been very difficult on him.”
I was sure they were. He should feel responsible. Sending Stella to Highland Heights. I told her over and over to stay away. She wouldn’t listen. It was when she went to Gabriel Clark’s mansion in Bloomfield Hills that my hands were tied.
Her fate was better than it could have been.
That’s what I told myself as I disconnected the call, made my way into my house in Brush Park, and checked on Fred. He was blissfully unaware of all that had occurred as he swam circles in his little bowl.
“It’s OK, little guy,” I said as I sprinkled betta pellets on top of the water. “The clock’s reset. We won’t need to have that conversation again for another week.”
CHAPTER 12
Jacob/Jacoby
I took Stella’s hand in mine, and at least this time, she didn’t pull away. I couldn’t ask her to go back to the Northern Light. It wasn’t fair. Sitting beside her, I tried to smile. If it was our last time together, maybe, just maybe, she’d have some fond memories of me. “Before we get into tomorrow, would you please tell me about your memory?”
“My memories? Of what?”
“No, your memory. When did it come back?”
She sighed and lay back on the bed. Though her feet were still on the floor, with her head back, her yellow hair fanned around her face, reminding me of a halo. On her neck was the silver cross necklace that I’d put around her neck the night of her first service. Like the wedding ring, she’d worn it consistently since that day. I didn’t deserve her, and she didn’t deserve this. Scooting up on the bed, she arranged the pillows and leaned against the headboard. As she did she scanned the room.
“What?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I just realized there’s only one bed.”
I stood and walked to the small table near the window and sat in a chair. “You can have it. I can sleep in a chair. I did that for over two weeks.”
She nodded and smiled at me. “Now that makes sense.”
“I promised.”