Tabitha’s mouth hung open a little. Her eyes glistened, as though she might cry, as though the story about Celia had happened to someone she knew well. “So how’s your mom?” she asked, her voice a little shaky.
“She’s doing her best. The first couple of months after Celia disappeared were a disaster for her. She tried to act tough and cool and everything, but I knew it was killing her. You know how parents are. They feel like they have to be strong for us, but it really put her through hell. The media kept bugging her. People looked at her funny at work or the store, even though she didn’t do anything. She blames herself, you know? She feels guilty about the whole thing.” Jared felt a protective instinct swelling in his chest, some desire to shield his mom from the scorn and the pain and the attention. “It can’t be her fault. After Celia disappeared, her husband told the cops she thought someone was following her.”
“Really?”
“Some creep, I guess. But then, how do you prove that? I guess she just felt freaked out a few times when she went places, like a car was following her or something. But maybe she was imagining it. How can anyone know?” He shrugged. “The whole town’s kind of gone crazy, you know? People have bought guns and security systems and dogs. They think a madman is on the loose. Maybe one is. It’s been hard on Mom. I know she thinks about it all the time.”
“That’s terrible,” Tabitha said, and her voice carried a weight that seemed heavier than her years. “Does everybody think she’s dead?”
Jared noticed that Tabitha didn’t pull any punches. So many people tiptoed around the topic of death. They said “passed away” or “deceased,” but not Tabitha. She didn’t play coy.
“I think everyone assumes that,” Jared said. “Once someone has been gone that long, everyone thinks the worst. And maybe some creep was stalking her. . . . Sometimes I watch those cop shows on TV. After forty-eight hours, it’s like impossible for them to find someone alive.”
“I know,” she said, again with the heavy weight in her voice.
Jared didn’t want her to be sad, so he tried to say something hopeful. “People do think they’ve seen Celia. More than once someone in another town, sometimes way across the country, says they’ve seen Celia somewhere. The cops always try to check it out, but they haven’t found her yet.”
“And they haven’t found her body?”
“No.”
“I guess that’s good. Kind of.”
“You must live in some kind of cave, or a news media blackout, if you’ve never heard of the Diamond Mom,” he said, trying to sound joking and casual.
Tabitha’s cheeks flushed. Her lips, which had remained parted, clamped tight into a wire-thin line. The sympathetic emotion in her eyes grew hard and flat, almost like a light going out.
“That’s not funny,” she said.
“What’s not?”
“That cave comment.” Her words came out in rhythmic bursts, like steel banging against steel. “It’s not funny.”
“It’s just an expression. Everybody says it.”
“I should go.” In one quick, fluid motion, she pushed herself away from the desk and grabbed her coat, moving to the door like someone rushing to catch a bus.
Jared barely had time to move. He walked a couple of steps behind her as she glided through the bedroom door, turning to the right and the front of the house. “Tabitha? Wait.”
He followed her, hurrying. The denim from her jeans made a sharp brushing noise as she walked away from him, and Jared had to jog to reach her before she made it to the living room.
“Wait. Please.”
She stopped. He started to reach out and touch her arm, but some instinct told him to back off, that no one as angry as Tabitha was wanted to be touched at a moment like this.
But she had stopped.
She kept her back to him, her shoulders moving as she breathed heavily with anger.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I was just . . . I didn’t mean anything.”
She didn’t respond. But she didn’t leave. He took that as a good sign, one that meant he still had a chance to keep her in the house for a little while longer.
“I didn’t mean to insult you or your dad. I don’t care where you live. I was just being a smart-ass. I do that sometimes.”
“It’s not . . . That’s not what I’m mad about.”
“What, then?”
“Forget it,” she said. “I should go.”
“No, I want you to stay. Please?” Jared decided to pull out all the stops, open up the way he wanted her to. If he was going to lay it all on the line, he figured this was the time to do it. “I want to tell you something else. About Celia. And my mom. About what I had to do with her disappearing.”
She turned to face him, her eyes open wide.
And she stayed.
CHAPTER THREE