Tabitha started backing away. “If you’ll just give the book to Jared. Tell him I really liked it. I didn’t finish it, but I liked it.”
Jenna moved forward, following the girl. She wanted to reach out, to offer the girl a comforting pat on the arm or a hug. Tabitha didn’t have a mother. She lived with a very strict father, one who might even be—
“Tabitha? Wait.”
“Bye, Mrs. Barton.”
“I can give you a ride. If you’re in some kind of trouble.”
Tabitha turned and broke into a run, hustling across the parking lot toward the far side where there was an opening in the fence.
Jenna broke in the same direction, running as best she could in her heavy coat. But she quickly saw she’d never catch up to the lightning-quick young girl.
“Tabitha?”
But she was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jared was watching TV in the living room when Jenna walked in the door. She carried the book in her purse, its bulk pressing against her body like a cinder block. He looked up when she came in.
“Did you get stuck shooting the shit with someone?” he asked as he muted the TV. Jenna took a quick glance at the screen and saw it was a show about World War II. Grainy footage of airplanes diving and dropping bombs. She never knew what he’d find interesting. “Was it Sally? She always wants to bug you when you’re trying to get out of there.”
She sat on the couch, the bulky purse beside her. She still wore her coat, and Jared’s eyebrows lifted when he saw the way she was acting. He knew something was up, since she usually made a beeline for the bedroom and changed into yoga pants as if her work clothes were on fire.
“I didn’t talk to Sally. No.”
He turned the TV off and sat up in his chair. He tossed the remote aside as if it offended him. “Is it because of this body they found? I’m sorry, it kind of slipped my mind, but I read all about it on Twitter today. Did the cops want to talk to you?”
Holly Crenshaw. That name had slipped out of her mind ever since Tabitha walked up to her in the parking lot. “They did. This morning. I hate that stuff being all over Twitter.”
“People like to talk,” he said.
“Right. Look, honey, Tabitha came and talked to me as I was leaving work.”
Jared’s body jolted as if he’d been stuck with a knife. Every muscle went rigid, and his eyes widened. “Just now?”
“Just now. That’s why I was a little late. I’d stayed late anyway to catch up on some things, but then she found me in the parking lot.”
“What did she want? What did she say? Mom, she hasn’t been in school for days.”
Jenna brought out the book, its bulk making her hand sink toward the couch. She held it out to him, and Jared took it, handling it like something precious and fragile. “She said it belonged to you, and she wanted you to have it back. I tried to find out how she was doing, but she just took off. I even offered her a ride.”
He stared at the cover of the book, one hand rubbing its surface while the other held it. “Why did she come and give this to you?” He asked the question absently, not really expecting a response. His words were the words of someone who’d been wounded, stung by another’s rejection. “She could have brought it to me, here or at school.”
“She told me the two of you broke up.”
“She broke up with me,” he said.
“I got that feeling.”
“Was she okay?” he asked. “I haven’t talked to her or seen her. She hasn’t been in school. Did I mention that?”
“You did.” Jenna removed her coat and tossed it over the back of the couch. “Did it ever occur to you that Tabitha might be having bigger problems than your relationship? Maybe she’s in some kind of real trouble.”
Jared told Jenna that he’d tried to search for information about Tabitha online but found nothing. No social media, no trace of the life she’d lived before she arrived in Hawks Mill. And then he told her about a discussion he’d had with his guidance counselor, the woman who dressed like a hippie and seemed to want to be everybody’s friend. Jenna always felt put off by her clothes and demeanor, but Jared loved talking to her, and if she helped him navigate school and get into college, then so be it. Who cared what she wore?
“She said something about having to accept the fact that I may never see Tabitha again,” he said. “She knew something, something she didn’t or couldn’t tell me. I’d swear it.”
“Why don’t you let me call Detective Poole?” Jenna said. “She could just do a little looking around if she has a free moment, which she may not.”
“No, Mom.”
Jared’s voice was insistent, as hard as steel. He rarely flashed an angry side, but when he did, he resembled his father more than Jenna wanted to admit. Marty had a short fuse and liked to play the role of the stern patriarch when he felt strongly about something.
“But if she’s in danger, the police can help.”