Since that awful November morning, the two of them had found themselves in the same room on more than one occasion. The police station, the volunteer headquarters. But every time Jenna wanted to speak to Ian, to offer him some form of an apology for her part in the events that led to Celia’s disappearance, she couldn’t get close. Either circumstances beyond their control intervened, or Ian steered himself away, walking in the opposite direction in a manner that didn’t feel entirely purposeful but still left Jenna feeling shut out. And blamed.
Jenna stood up, and the waiter retreated. In full adulthood, Ian stood six-four. He was long and lean like a basketball player, and his suit—the jacket and pants black, the white shirt open-necked without a tie—fit him as though it was custom-made, which it no doubt was. He wore a look of caution, his face impassive, his hands close to his body. Jenna took a half step forward, wondering if they were going to hug. Wouldn’t two old friends do that? Wouldn’t two old friends who had shared a mutual loss do that very thing?
But Ian kept his distance. He reached for the chair and not Jenna, so she had no choice but to follow suit and take her seat again, this time across from him. The waiter rematerialized and handed Ian a menu, which he set aside, ordering water and placing his hands on the table. Jenna was able to study his face and saw that the previous few months had taken a toll. His hair contained some strands of gray that Jenna swore had never been there before, and his eyes looked tired. Lines were starting to form in their corners, and she believed the lids looked heavier, weighted down by the seemingly endless days that had passed since Celia disappeared.
“If you’re hungry you can order something,” he said. “I’m not that hungry. I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”
And Jenna noticed that change to his body as well. Ian wasn’t just trim and fit. His face looked gaunter, the skin on his cheeks drawn tight.
“I guess I’m fine,” she said.
“My treat.”
“It’s okay,” Jenna said. “I can pay if I order something.”
Ian reached out for his water and took a long drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. When he put the glass down, he said, “What did you want to talk to me about?”
What did she want to talk to him about?
How did she sum up the feelings of the past few months? “Detective Poole came and talked to me today. First time in almost a month.”
Jenna let her statement hang in the air, expecting Ian to ask what the detective wanted to talk to her about. But he didn’t say anything. He waited for her to go on.
But Jenna couldn’t do it. She couldn’t talk about other things until the original problem between them was addressed. “Ian, I have to tell you something.”
“Okay.”
Jenna glanced out the window, where she saw people coming and going from the small clothing shop next door. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry, that she wouldn’t let the emotion of the moment get the best of her. She certainly didn’t want to cry in front of Ian. He’d always been proper, always been a little reserved, but as an adult he’d become ever more serious. Stoic, withdrawn Ian.
She didn’t look at him when she said, “You know I’m sorry about that night. I’m sorry I ever called Celia. I’m sorry I was late and that I even proposed meeting in that way. I’ve spent the last three months wishing I could undo that one phone call, those plans. You know I’d do anything to change that, and I’m sorry.”
She thought she was out of words, so she turned back and faced him. She was surprised to see the emotion registering on his face. He looked down at the tabletop, and while she studied him, choking back her own tears, she thought she saw his chin quiver ever so slightly. Just as quickly, he composed himself, clearing his throat and reaching for the water again. When he put the glass down, he said, “I know. It’s okay.”
“I feel like the whole town blames me.” She waited a moment. “Like you blame me.”
He looked up at her, the most animation she’d seen in years spreading across his face. Some of the weight seemed to lift from his features. The lines smoothed, the skin became less taut. “Not at all. Never. Look at everything that could have happened. She thought someone was following her.”
“Do you think that’s true?” Jenna asked. “I mean, did you notice anything?”
Ian took a moment to answer. “No, certainly not. But I wasn’t home a lot. Celia thought a car followed her a couple of times. And then she thought she saw the car parked on our street. If I’d known . . .” His top teeth bit down on his lower lip. “If I’d known there was really something to worry about, I’d have gone out to that car myself. But it could be nothing. She couldn’t identify the car. It was always dark.”
“And you told the police about it as soon as she disappeared, didn’t you?” Jenna asked.
Ian gave her a look as if she were stupid. “Of course I did, Jenna. How could I not?” He leaned in. “I even gave them a name. A business associate of mine, someone I thought might have wanted to harass me or my family. They looked into it. Thoroughly.”
“They did?”
“They followed a lot of leads, Jenna. If they could make something stick, they would.”
“And now Benny Ludlow and the earring. You remember him from school, don’t you?”
“Sure, he was a total weirdo. A scary guy.”