Along the horizon a red band stretched as the sun disappeared, and birds, black dots against the sky, flew past in a giant mass. A chill approached, encroaching on the town as the night came on. Jenna pulled her coat tighter, thinking she’d only imagined hearing her name.
But the voice said it again. It was faint, a soft, childlike voice. She looked around. Most of the cars were gone, the other employees and patients clearing out. Late Friday afternoon, just before five. People had plans, or else they just wanted to get home to their families, order pizza, and watch mindless TV. All of those things sounded appealing to Jenna. She’d survived the day, working as hard as she could, trying to keep Holly Crenshaw’s death out of her mind. Nothing in her life, even raising a child, had ever required such deep wells of patience.
Jenna carried a canister of pepper spray in her right hand, and her grip on it tightened as she saw the figure approaching. But as the young woman emerged from the dark, Jenna decided she didn’t intend to cause anyone harm. The girl looked scared, her eyes wide and pleading in the darkness.
“Tabitha?”
The girl wore the same old coat, the same scuffed shoes. She carried something in her hand, something awkward and blocky. Jenna saw it was a book, a thick paperback, its cover worn and its pages dog-eared. Had she seen it before?
“Mrs. Barton?” she said. “I wanted to ask you a favor.”
“Is Jared with you?” Jenna asked, although it seemed obvious he wasn’t. She’d texted her son before she left the office, letting him know she was on her way. He wrote back quickly, telling her he was home.
“No.” She hesitated, looking around the lot as though someone might be spying on them. She acted as if they were two agents making a dead drop under watchful eyes. “He must have told you we broke up.”
“No, he didn’t.” Jenna felt a little heartsick for her son, and she understood why he’d been in such an unpleasant mood. “But I could tell something was wrong.”
“I know he’s probably upset.”
“Yeah. He seems like he is. Now I know why.” She studied the girl, remembering Jared’s question about the fatherly kiss. Had that been part of the breakup? “What are you doing here? Is there a problem?”
Tabitha held the book out in front of her. “Would you give this to Jared? I borrowed it from him, and I know it’s one of his favorites.” She hesitated, emotion flashing across her eyes. “It’s hard for me to see him now, but I knew you worked here. I was out doing some other things, but I have to get home.” She looked around at the darkening sky. “Would you mind?”
“No.” Jenna took the paperback from her. The Great Book of Amber by Roger Zelazny. She’d seen it in Jared’s room, seen him toting it around the house on more than one occasion. The thing must have had a thousand pages, and she shifted to tuck it under her arm. “Can I ask you something?”
The girl looked poised to go, but Jenna’s voice stopped her.
“It’s none of my business,” Jenna said, “but was the decision to break up mutual or not?”
Tabitha’s eyes darted around.
“It’s okay,” Jenna said. “I’m not trying to take sides here.”
Tabitha relaxed a little, the rigidness in her shoulders easing. “It was my idea,” she said. “I can’t get involved with anyone now.” She searched for the right words. “My dad, he wants me to go to college, and he says now isn’t the time to get serious with a boy or spend my time doing other things.”
The words came out in a torrent. Something about them sounded practiced, forced, as if Tabitha was just repeating what someone had told her to say.
“Your father’s pretty strict, isn’t he?”
“He wants what’s best for me.” The answer sounded less robotic. “He really does. That’s part of the reason we moved here. The schools are better. He . . . he’s trying to give me a better life.”
The light slipped away, making it more difficult to see the girl’s face. Jenna cocked her head to one side, studying Tabitha. Again she was struck by the familiarity of the girl’s features: the set of her eyes, the shape of her chin. She’d seen this girl somewhere before, or more likely, a relative of hers. She got the same feeling when she saw Ursula, and embedded in the teenager’s face was the ghost of her mother.
“And did you say your father isn’t from Hawks Mill? I knew some other Burkes, not just Tommy. What’s your dad’s name?”
“His name is Ed.”
“Ed Burke,” Jenna said.
The girl nodded. “But he’s not from Hawks Mill. He lived here once, a long time ago, I guess. But we don’t have any other relatives from here.”
“But he has friends here or something?” Jenna asked. “If he’s lived here before.”
“Work friends. He could get a job here.”
“Where does he work?”
“I have to go, Mrs. Barton. I’m late. I shouldn’t even be here. I really shouldn’t. My dad’s not home, and I need to get back.”
“Are you a patient here?” Jenna asked, pressing. “Or is your dad? I’ve seen you somewhere, haven’t I?”