“I don’t know why she did it. I don’t know if I did something wrong or what it was.”
“I doubt it was you. And I’m not just saying that because I’m your mom. When I talked to her the other day in the parking lot, I could tell she cared about you a great deal. That’s why she brought that book back to me. She wanted me to tell you that. She cared.”
“Really?”
“Really. I suspect it’s her dad. Or something else we don’t know about. Has she been back in school?”
“No. No one’s seen her. They think she’s gone. Moved away.”
“Are they looking into it?”
“I asked Mrs. Timmons. You know, the counselor. The one who looks like a hippie? She said they have to file some reports when a kid stops coming to school. They’re doing that with the proper authorities.” He shrugged, trying to put away all his awful feelings with one gesture. Jenna knew it wouldn’t work. Nothing was ever that easy.
Jared took a second serving, and Jenna poured some wine for herself while he ate. She offered him ice cream for dessert, but he shook his head, saying he might eat some later.
“Can I ask you something else?” he said.
“Sure.”
“I always thought Ian was kind of cold and, you know, had a stick up his ass. Like, way up. Not mean or anything. Just . . . distant.”
Jenna tensed at the mention of Ian’s name. Her hand tingled where his thumb had rubbed. In that very room, at that very table.
“He can seem that way,” she said. “But he’s not. He’s just serious about work. He has a lot of responsibility at the foundry.”
“I know he’s your friend. And you know him well, right?”
He gave her a sidelong look, one that seemed to anticipate her response, as though the words she used to answer him might be surprising or revelatory in some way. She kept her eyes on Jared, her hand on the wineglass, resisting the urge to look down at the back of her hand. Had he seen something the other night when he came home?
“Pretty well. We were better friends in high school. Why are you asking about this?”
“The other night when he was here, and I walked to the door with him, he was pretty chill. You know, friendly and everything. Friendlier than I’ve ever seen him.”
“You’re older now. Maybe he feels more comfortable around someone your age than a little kid.”
“Maybe. And Celia was cool. Is cool, sorry. I always . . . I like her. She’s friendly and warm.”
“What is this all about?” Jenna asked.
“How did Ursula end up being such a royal bitch?”
Jenna held in a laugh and a mouthful of wine, which burned against the back of her throat. She finally swallowed. “She’s going through a brutal time. Cut her some slack.”
“She wasn’t that bad when she was a little kid. She was tough and bossy, but not mean. You don’t see her at school. She picks on other kids, weaker kids. She’s always trying to undermine everybody’s confidence in class. I think I really hate her.”
“I always thought you had a crush on her,” Jenna said. “Celia did too. We could tell the way you looked at her.”
“That’s gross.”
“Look, some people in our lives are just difficult,” Jenna said. “Hell, look at Grandma.”
“That’s true. But she’s old. Ursula’s young. She’s always had a lot going for her.”
“She’s a pretty girl.” Jenna paused. “Just like her mom.”
Jenna heard the moroseness creeping into her voice and wished she’d cut it off.
Jared must have heard it too. He tried to keep it light, and he did. “I may be single now, after my three-week relationship, but that’s one girl I’m not interested in.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Detective Poole called as Jenna finished cleaning the kitchen. She dried her hands on a towel and answered, trying not to guess about what the detective was calling for.
“I was thinking of calling you,” Jenna said.
“Great minds think alike,” Naomi said. “I promised I’d do my best to keep you in the loop, so I’m letting you know the latest on Benjamin Ludlow.”
Jenna felt cold. She shivered, even though she’d been working in the small kitchen. “I’m guessing this isn’t the news we’re looking for.”
“He has a rock-solid alibi for the time Celia disappeared. It took us a while to follow up on it, but it’s solid. There’s no way he could have harmed Celia.”
Jenna pulled a chair out from the table and sank down into it, her butt hitting the wood with a solid thump. She didn’t even feel relief. She felt fear, a tugging, dragging ache in her heart. It’s not over, she thought. It’s still not over.
“Jenna?”
“I’m here. I’m just . . . worn down, I guess.”
“There’s more,” Naomi said.
Jenna almost hung up. She took the phone away from her ear and looked at the screen, her thumb hovering over the red button. More?