The late-winter sky was gray and low. The sun seemed to have given up. It was cold, too cold for Kentucky in February, and Jenna again found herself wishing she could live someplace warm. Once the glory of spring came, she’d talk about how there was no place better to live than Kentucky, and she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
“Thank you for being so encouraging with Jared,” Jenna said. “I don’t really know what to say to him about this girl. Here I’ve spent a couple of months complaining about people who don’t know what to say to me, and now I’m in the same boat. I don’t know what sounds right or makes sense.”
“I try to be positive,” Naomi said, “until I can’t be anymore.”
“Do you really think this Natalie might still be alive?” Jenna asked.
“Her dad brought her here for some reason instead of killing her back at home. That means he had something in mind for her. It can’t be easy bringing a teenage girl along with you.”
“No. I guess I’m holding out hope he really cared about her in some way. Like you said, he let her go to school.”
“She didn’t run. If she was scared enough, that might motivate her to stay. He could have threatened her. Intimidated her. We don’t even know if the girl is aware that her father is a suspect in the mother’s death. That might change her tune if she knew that. But it doesn’t look like she has much family. She could be completely dependent on him.”
Jenna thought of the kiss Jared described. If you combined that with her father’s controlling, domineering nature, it seemed hard to come up with a benevolent scenario.
Detective Poole considered Jenna. The wind rose and tossed the detective’s short hair around on top of her head. “So, you don’t know Henry Allen, do you?”
“No. I don’t remember him from the soccer games.”
“Did Celia know him?” Naomi asked.
Jenna knew she should have expected the question, but it still knocked her off balance. “I have no idea, Detective. It’s a small town. Anything’s possible, and Jared said their kids are friends.”
“But you don’t know the parents of all of Jared’s friends.”
“Not his girlfriend’s dad. Thank God.”
The detective didn’t walk off. She seemed to be lingering, to be taking her time as if she were retired without a care or a deadline in the world. “Have you spoken with Ian anymore?” she asked.
“He came over the night the news broke about the affair.”
“He came over?”
“He didn’t have my number. I guess he was worried about the impact the news would have on me. He knew Reena was going to be targeting me and he wanted to offer support.”
“Did you talk about the case?”
“Not really. No.”
“It’s good you two are supporting each other that way.”
“Can I ask you something, Detective?”
“Sure.”
“Ian has a solid alibi for the night Celia disappeared, right?”
Naomi shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She winced a little as if something pained her, and she rubbed her back with her right hand. “Why do you ask?”
“No particular reason. People online have always said things about Ian needing to be investigated more closely. And I know the statistics. Usually it’s someone very close to the victim who commits the crime. Parents kill children. Husbands kill wives. . . .” Her voice trailed off. Just giving voice to the thought felt like a betrayal of Ian, even though she wasn’t sure what loyalty she owed him. Wasn’t her greater loyalty to Celia?
“This has all been made public, you know,” Naomi said. “Two people can place Ian at home at the time Celia disappeared. His mother, to whom he was speaking on the phone, and his daughter. Now, usually we want more than a family member’s account of things, but the phone records back it up. He was thoroughly questioned. More than once. Do you have reason to think he was involved?”
“No, of course not. And you asked me all this when Celia disappeared. I never saw any abuse or violence between them. Celia never mentioned being afraid of him. There was nothing.”
“But you didn’t know about the affair, so . . .”
“It’s not that. With Ian talking to me again I started thinking about it.”
Naomi studied Jenna for a long time. “The media have been a little rough on you lately,” she said. “A Reena Huffman type doesn’t like it when someone doesn’t keep jumping through her hoop. The media giveth and the media taketh away.”
“What does that mean?” Jenna asked.
“It means they’ll have a field day if you keep getting closer to Ian. They’re distracted by Holly Crenshaw now, but they may get back to you if they get bored.”
Jenna wanted to be offended, to protest her innocence, but she knew the detective had seen through her. It was her job, and Jenna had opened herself up enough to be read like an X-ray.
“Talk soon,” Naomi said as she walked away into the cold morning.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE