The images on the screen shifted. Jenna’s pale, ugly photo remained, but it was joined by a portrait of Celia, the one most widely distributed in the wake of her disappearance. In the photo, Celia looked radiant. Perfect smile, shining brown hair. Wide brown eyes. She looked like everybody’s sister, friend, daughter, girlfriend. The all-American dream.
“This friend, this Jenna Barton, I’m starting to wonder if she has been entirely forthcoming about the events of that night, November the fourth. She says the two women, who had been best friends since junior high, were just going out for some girl time. But why were they going out at midnight? Who does that? Why did Jenna call Celia up that night and invite her out for a drink at midnight? Jenna says they were just reliving their old glory days when they were wild and free young people. But who does that? Who does that when they’re parents? Both of these women are parents to teenagers. And Jenna is a single mom, so who was home with her son when she went out that night? Who does those things at that age? I think there’s much more to know here, and I hope . . . no, I pray that the police start asking these questions of Jenna Barton. This language she used today . . . it tells me this is not a normal person.”
Jenna groaned.
Sally fumbled around, looking for the remote.
But Reena shifted gears.
“As if this case wasn’t getting strange enough,” she said.
“Wait,” Jenna said. And Sally stopped looking.
“There’s another piece of news breaking about this case, and maybe, just maybe, we’ll finally get some light shed on these events.”
Jenna’s mind raced. What else could be going on besides the bones in the barn?
“This is breaking news,” Reena said, “something we are just learning as we went on the air. Apparently the earring, the match to the earring that was found near the park where Celia Walters is believed to have disappeared, has been found.”
Jenna stood up, her hands hanging limp and useless at her sides.
“We’re still learning about this, and we’ll have more to report as the show goes on here. But what we know is that someone was taken into custody just this evening for trying to sell that earring, the match to the one that belongs to Celia Walters, at a pawnshop. Police have taken a man into custody, and that’s all we know right now. But we’ll keep you up-to-date. And we’ll be right back.”
“No,” Jenna said, stepping toward the screen. “No. You can’t do that. You can’t just start and stop like that.”
“It’s a commercial,” Sally said. “She’ll be back. She’s teasing us because she doesn’t know anything.”
Sally muted the TV. Jenna stared at the images. The president talking at a lectern, a teaser for a foreign affairs show. And then a commercial for orange juice.
“Honey.” Sally came up beside her and placed her hands on Jenna’s shoulders. “It will be okay. They’ll come back.”
“What if they found the guy?” Jenna asked, not really addressing her words to anybody. “What if this is it?”
Sally guided her to a chair. Jenna dropped into it, her body moving without any conscious thought on her part. She felt like a robot, an automaton.
“We’ll know more in a minute,” Sally said. “Well, maybe not even then. They’re piecing the story together. Becky is probably running around bugging the shit out of the cops.”
“I should call Detective Poole.”
“Why don’t you wait and see what Reena says? Here.” She handed Jenna a glass of wine. “Let’s see if it comes back on.”
Jenna finished the little bit of wine in the glass.
The show returned, but Reena went to another story, something about a woman who discovered she had a sister she didn’t know about until her mother was murdered.
Sally muted it. “Let’s talk while they go through these other things.”
They sat in silence for a moment, and then Jenna grabbed the wine bottle and filled her glass. She needed it. She could slow down tomorrow. She took a long drink and then said, “I haven’t eaten anything.”
“Do you want to order something?” Sally asked. “Or do you want me to make you some eggs? Or a sandwich?”
“I’m good.”
“Do you want to be alone?” Sally asked.
“No. No way.” Jenna gave Sally a smile that she hoped conveyed the depth of her gratitude. “I like your company. I like having someone to talk to. It’s been hard to talk to some of my other friends about all this. It’s so freaking awkward.” She pointed to the TV screen. “I think this is what everybody thinks about me. People I’ve known for years. They have these questions. They blame me. You just said that everybody’s scared and on edge in town. You’ve felt it. When people get scared, they look for someone to blame. No one will say it, but they do blame me. I wish they’d actually just say it instead of dancing around it.”
“I doubt they feel that way about you. I think a lot of this is in your head. It’s guilt talking.”
“I don’t know. . . .”
Sally took a swallow from her own glass. She looked thoughtful. “I’ve never asked you anything about the case because I figured you’d had your fill of talking about it. And we’ve only started to get to know each other well.”