“Do you want me to go up there and wake her?”
Ian rubbed his freshly shaven cheeks. His eyes remained cold. “Goddammit, Jenna, it’s always something with you. You’re always shooting off your mouth about something, always pushing people to talk when they don’t want to. Or do things. If you’d left Celia alone that night—”
He stopped. But Jenna’s cheeks burned. She ground her teeth together, holding her tongue.
Ian stood up, the chair scraping against the floor. “I’ll ask her. She’s my daughter.”
She heard him walk to the front of the house, heard his shoes on the stairs, rising above her.
Little Bear. She trusted her hunch.
It was nothing but a feeling. But it felt right.
It made sense. And she didn’t want to wait anymore.
She went out to the foyer where the stairs rose to the second floor.
When she arrived, she saw Ian coming down, his face perplexed.
“What is it?” she asked.
Ian paused halfway. He pointed behind him, somewhere up the stairs.
“She’s not there,” he said. “I thought she was home, but she must have . . .”
Jenna went up, moving past him, and entered Ursula’s bedroom. The bed was made, possibly never slept in. She looked around, pulled open some drawers. It looked as though things had been removed. Underwear, socks. She stepped into the bathroom. No toiletries were visible, no jewelry, no retainer or toothbrush or makeup.
She ran back out. “Ian? She left. Did you know this?”
“No. I swear. She was here last night.”
“So she didn’t hear they arrested William Rose?”
“Not from me.”
“She ran away.” Jenna moved down past Ian. She didn’t know where she was going, but she needed to move. “Her things are gone.”
He stayed rooted in place on the stairs. “My God. What have I done? How did I let her get past me and out of the house?”
“She’s not a baby, Ian. She’s fifteen. You can’t control her.”
“But her mother’s missing. And now she . . .” He fumbled in his pockets, his hands shaking. He brought out his phone. “Let me call her. She wouldn’t just . . . leave. Leave me.”
Jenna watched his face while Ursula’s phone rang. It rang and rang, and Ian’s complexion grew more pale. He hung up and tried again. He still didn’t get an answer, so he left a message.
“Ursula, honey . . .” He managed to keep his voice level, but Jenna could sense his struggle. “I need you to call me. As soon as possible. I need to know where you are. Right away, honey. Okay?” He paused but didn’t hang up. “You’re kind of scaring me, honey. I need to know where you are.”
He lowered the phone and stared straight ahead, his body slumping back against the wall of the staircase.
“Why don’t you come downstairs?” Jenna asked. “You can sit.”
“I have to call the police, don’t I?”
“Yes, you should. Right away. She could be in danger or running away. You need to know why she’s doing this. Why now.”
Ian nodded as he started dialing. “Why would she run now? After everything.”
“I have no idea,” Jenna said. “But you’re right when you say we need to know.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
Jared walked across town. The day promised to be bright and clear and warmer, but it was early enough for his breath to puff like little clouds as he moved.
He thought of Natalie. He didn’t know where she was or who she was with. Detective Poole said she’d go to the doctor and then into foster care. She told him to be patient, to wait as the process played out.
The time ahead of him stretched out like an endless highway, like walking through quicksand toward a destination that receded farther and farther away.
He needed to so something besides sit in his room and wait.
His mom. She was off looking into something about Celia. He knew it. Something that old guy, Domino, said. It set her off. The old guy who saved his bacon. He hoped he was okay, that his blood pressure hadn’t soared off the charts or blown up in his brain.
After fifteen minutes of walking, the sweat forming in his armpits and on his back, he came to Bobby Allen’s street. It was the same house he’d lived in when they were kids, just a half mile from Ursula.
Jared walked up to the front door and was about to ring the bell when he heard a car coming down the driveway. Bobby sat in the driver’s seat, and he looked over at Jared, standing on the porch with his hand raised.
Bobby didn’t look completely surprised. He stopped the car and rolled down the window as Jared moved across the grass.
“You looking for me?” Bobby asked.
Jared said yes, although it seemed obvious.
“I guess this isn’t strictly a social call,” Bobby said. “We didn’t even do that when we were kids.”
“I wanted to ask you something. I’m sorry, Bobby, but it’s something about your dad. And Natalie.”