Tabitha’s house was dark. He saw that much. No lights glowed anywhere, not even from the back of the house where he’d seen them before. But Jared vowed not to accept that as enough. Maybe they were holed up inside, hiding out. Or maybe Tabitha was home, acting under orders from her father to lie low and show nothing.
Jared took the porch steps two at a time, and as he reached out for the bell, his heart raced twice as fast as it did in the park when Ursula’s little gang confronted him. He cursed himself for not figuring out what to say in advance if her dad answered the door. He decided he’d play it cool and simply ask to see her. If he said no, Jared wanted to rush in, right past the hulking body, and find Tabitha.
He rang the bell again. And waited. He pushed it again, but nothing happened.
“Shit.”
He wasn’t scared for himself anymore. He was scared for her. Was that love? When you worried more about someone else than yourself? It sounded like a good definition. He understood why his mom kept secret his role in her tardiness on the night Celia disappeared. She wanted to protect him. She cared more about him than about her own reputation.
Jared turned and went back down the steps. He walked around the side of the house, the side he’d spied from the other night when he threw the rock. The kitchen window was dark, and someone had taped a piece of cardboard over the hole he’d made.
Jared stood there, accepting the pointlessness of his trip. The sky above was clear, the stars beginning to speckle the sky. He faced the walk home and then explaining everything to his mother. And when all that was finished, he still might never see Tabitha again. He wouldn’t know if she was safe or in danger, in town or gone somewhere else.
He headed back out to the street, his head sinking down into his shoulders. He kicked at a loose stone, which did nothing to make him feel better. An embarrassment settled over him, the sense of being a child who wanted something he could never have, something far out of his reach.
“Hey there.”
Jared looked to his left. An old guy stood on the porch next door. He wore a T-shirt despite the cold. His hair was slicked back and long sideburns framed his face, making him look like some kind of throwback to the 1950s, the kind of dude who’d hang out shooting pool or leaning against a jukebox. He held a can of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
The guy pointed with his cigarette. “You know them?”
“Kind of,” Jared said.
“You’re looking for them, though. Probably that girl, right?”
“We go to school together.”
The man took a drag from the cigarette, shaking his head as he did so. When he blew out a plume of smoke, he said, “I wish girls looked like that when I was in school.”
“Have you seen them?” Jared asked.
“No, sir. But there was some commotion over there a little over an hour ago. A fellow come over in a nice car, business type. You know, suit and tie and all that. I was out here smoking because I don’t in the house anymore. I heard some yelling, I think, but that was it. I didn’t see the girl, but I don’t see her much.”
“And that was all?”
“I ain’t a spy,” the man said. He flicked his cigarette out into the yard, the red glow falling like a star. “I didn’t see or hear anything else.”
“Did they move out?”
“Move out? I doubt it. I’d have seen a truck. I’m here most of the day. Somebody busted a window over there, but there are a lot of punks in the neighborhood. If they tried that over here, they’d answer to me.”
“Thanks,” Jared said.
“What’s the girl’s name?” the man asked.
“Tabitha.”
“Tabitha. Her folks fans of Bewitched?”
“Of what?”
“Never mind.” He tipped the beer can up to his mouth. “You know, I didn’t see a van or anything when they moved in. Maybe they’re the quiet types. Or maybe they don’t have much. Lot of that going around.”
“Thanks.”
“You be careful going home. You heard there’s some maniac on the loose. Took that woman right over in the park. Killed another one today.”
“I heard.”
“Like I said, if they were to come messing with me . . .”
His voice trailed off as Jared walked away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Jenna calmed down a little as time went by. She didn’t have a choice.
Right after Jared went out the door, she grabbed her car keys, intending to pick him up. But she knew better than that. Jared would have ducked down side streets and through backyards, probably even cut across the park, and she would have driven in circles hoping to come across him by chance.
She also considered calling. But she knew he wouldn’t answer. And if he did answer, she also knew what he’d say.
Don’t worry. I’ve got this.
She stared at her phone, scrolling through her contacts. Detective Poole’s name popped up. But then what? Bother a detective in the middle of two major crimes because her teenage son ran off?
She owed her mom a call, so she dialed. Her mom sounded distracted when she answered, and Jenna asked if it was a bad time.
“I’m playing cards,” her mother said.
“Okay. We can talk another time.”