When she stopped speaking, Abby and Leo let silence fill the room to see if she would fill it. She did.
“Then there was the time she had that very short hair, and all the girls thought she was being very courageous. The boys were curious as well. It was as if she had decided to make a statement about the pressure on girls to please boys. And of course, it only made the boys want her more. She let everyone believe she was bold like that. She liked that people believed that about her.”
Leo slipped his phone back in his pocket like he was getting ready to leave. “So Emma did not come to see you?”
“No. Never.”
“And you did not know of any boyfriends at the time of her disappearance?”
“No.”
“And you had no idea she was pregnant?”
“No, none at all.”
“Is there anyone you can think of who might have helped her with her plan to run away? Any teachers or friends or parents of friends who may have had views on abortion or adoption or who were involved with troubled teenagers?”
She shook her head. “No. I would have told you back then. We all racked our brains trying to understand what might have happened to those girls. I remember answering all of these same questions—about men and friends and teachers and parents. I’m sorry. I left at the end of that school year.”
Abby was not ready to pack up quite yet. “Can I ask why?”
“I just needed a change. Public schools have different demographics. I can do more good here.”
“And public schools pay more, don’t they?”
Lisa smiled. “Yes. That, too.”
“I thought it might have been because of your fiancé,” Abby said.
“We met after I started work here. He teaches history.”
“Well,” Leo said, standing now. “Thank you for your time.”
Abby followed, reluctantly. She needed an answer to the one question Lisa Jennings could not answer. Why did Cass lead us back to you?
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help. I will keep thinking about it and let you know if I remember something.”
“Thank you.” Abby gave her a card. Leo did the same. They turned for the door.
“Her family must be elated. Please send them my regards,” Lisa said as a parting gesture.
Abby turned to face the woman, suddenly curious but not sure why. “Her family is complicated, as you know.”
“Yes, sadly. I was aware of the situation with the parents. I’ll never forget the real reason Emma cut her hair so short. We all thought that might be the end of the turmoil, however terrible that was.”
Leo stopped now as well. They both looked at her, then back at each other.
“I don’t know if things are ever really over in a situation like that,” Abby said cautiously. A new door had just been opened and she had no idea where it would lead.
“Or with a person like that. I thought it was child abuse. When I heard how Mrs. Martin cut her daughter’s hair in the middle of the night, well, I tried again to speak with the girls. Maybe that’s what Cass was remembering. I tried to help. But they would not talk about it—or anything, for that matter. You know, sometimes I wonder if I should have reported that to social services. I wonder if I could have stopped that runaway train. But you have to understand, I was following protocol. It was not a reportable event according to the school, and I worked for them.”
Abby flipped through her notes again, stopping on a random page. “Right, I remember that. Judy Martin cut her hair to punish the girls for wanting to live with their father. That must have been very difficult. It’s a shame they didn’t confide in you.”
Lisa Jennings held her palms to the sky. “Teenagers…”
“I remember being one,” Abby said. She smiled and touched the woman’s arm warmly. “Do you remember who told you about that—I mean, if the girls didn’t say anything?”
“Oh,” Lisa said. She was taken aback, then struggled to regroup. “You know, I think it was their father, Owen. Strange I can’t remember. It was a long time ago.”
Abby smiled. “Yes, it was.”
“And I’m sure you did everything you could,” Leo said. “You know what they say about hindsight.”
They said their good-byes. Abby rushed down the hall and out the door. Leo was right behind her. Neither of them spoke until they were outside, barreling down the stone steps to the parking lot.
“Holy shit,” Leo said.
“I know.” Abby was out of breath. Her heart was pounding. They stopped on either side of the car, looking at each other over the roof.
“What did Cass tell you about that story?”
“That only four people knew that it was Judy who cut off Emma’s hair.”
“Cass, Emma, Judy—”
“And Jonathan. Jonathan Martin.”
“Which means Owen Tanner could not have told her. No way Judy told her. And she would have remembered if one of the girls had told her.”
“She said she never met with the girls,” Abby continued.
“Which means Jonathan Martin told her. But why?”
Abby could see her thoughts playing out across Leo’s face. “The same reason she just lied about it.”
FIFTEEN
Cass
After my visit with Witt, I returned to Mrs. Martin’s house and began my mission to prove myself sane. It was day four of my return.
Mrs. Martin was beside herself with happiness. I had finally submitted to that psychological examination she wanted Dr. Winter to give me. It didn’t matter that it came back “normal.” What mattered was that my emotional state, my sanity, was now being discussed and examined along with the search for Emma.
When I first heard the words “psychological examination,” I imagined having to lie on a table with electrodes connected to my brain. I imagined it would be physically painful somehow, like shock therapy. But it had nothing to do with my brain. It was just a lot of paperwork, 567 questions on a form called the MMPI 2, whose answers were meant to indicate one thing or another. I could see the conclusions they would draw from the different answers. “I have bad thoughts more than once a week,” for example. Why would anyone answer yes to that? “Evil spirits possess me”? “I have acid in my stomach most of the time”? “If someone does something bad to me, I should pay him back”?
The questions jump around because they are trying to catch people who think they can trick the test. There were a few questions about sleep and other physical symptoms of stress or anxiety but then a question about self-esteem, for example. Some of them were very tricky, asking about authority figures and whether you sometimes feel alone in the world. No one understands you. I could see that if I answered them in a way to appear perfect, the test would flag me as being a liar. No one is perfect. And we all feel alone sometimes.