“We’re friends. I’m curious.”
“I already have a mom, Sally.” The words came out like a slap. Jenna even cringed after they were out of her mouth, but Sally didn’t say anything. Only silence came from the other end of the line. How many people was she going to put off that day? “Look, Sally, I’m sorry, but—” She looked up. Jared was pacing in the hallway, right outside her bedroom door. He was listening to everything. But more important, what was his problem? He was acting like a child. “I have to go, okay? Can we talk more about this another time?”
“We don’t have to talk about it at all,” Sally said. “You know what you’re doing.”
“I don’t, Sally, not really, but—”
“It’s your life, Jenna. Whatever.” Her friend hung up.
? ? ?
Jenna stepped into the hallway and tried to stop thinking of Sally. “Okay, what is it? You’re pacing like a caged tiger.”
“You have to hear this.”
She followed Jared out to the living room, where the combination cordless phone and answering machine, a relic from when Jenna and Marty were first married, sat on a small table. The message light was blinking, and Jenna’s heart jumped.
“What gives, Jared?” she asked, running through every scenario in her mind. Had Celia called? Natalie?
Jared reached out and pressed PLAY.
The voice sounded pleasant, a little high-pitched but still a man’s.
“Jenna, I’m so glad I reached out this way. I’m coming to town and I want to talk to you about Celia some more. I think you’ll be interested to hear what I have to say.” Pause. “Oh, I didn’t say who I was. This is Domino fifty-five.”
Jenna stared at the phone and its blinking red light as though it were a poisonous snake. The light mesmerized her, held her in place unable to move or speak.
“Is that the guy from the Web site?”
She found her voice again. “Yeah. He’s the one who wrote the other night when I called the police. He never said he was showing up before.”
“You are going to call the police again, right? He says he’s coming here. He must know our address. I told you not to leave the number listed. Celia wouldn’t need it.”
“He must be joking, right? He’s just a nut.”
“Do you want to take that chance?” Jared asked.
“No, of course not. Go make sure the doors are locked.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Jared went to every door, making sure they were locked. And they were. Then he checked a few windows, but the windows in the house hadn’t been opened since November when the last Indian summer days blew away. Right when Celia disappeared.
If the guy on the answering machine really possessed the information he claimed, why hadn’t he gone to the cops and collected a reward? And besides, his voice sounded like air leaking out of a balloon, high and squeaky and annoying.
But they couldn’t take chances, could they?
As he returned to the living room where his mom was still on the phone with Detective Poole, a bizarre possibility popped into his mind: What if Domino55 and William Rose were the same person? Jared had never heard William Rose’s voice, so it was possible. Or what if they were friends, working together as partners in crime?
Then why show up in Hawks Mill, where everyone was after them?
His mom got off the phone. He saw two lines along the side of her mouth, lines he would have sworn weren’t there just a few months earlier. She’d always looked and acted so young compared to a lot of other parents, even ones the same age. Celia’s disappearance was etching itself on her face.
“They’re sending a car around to keep an eye on things,” she said.
“Good.”
“They’re busy, though. They’ve stepped up the patrols with William Rose on the loose. And they’re having some kind of press conference tonight. Just an update on everything, something about a connection between William Rose and Henry Allen. I’m curious, but I don’t want to watch it.”
“Right. I heard—”
“You heard what?”
Jared stopped. He took a mental step back. He wanted something from his mom, so he couldn’t just go wandering into the conversation as if it were an unseen minefield. He needed to be careful. He knew she would be reluctant to let him go on TV. But he could try to bargain. . . .
He desperately wanted to speak on Natalie’s behalf. To plead for her on TV.
To do something to save her from William Rose.
“I know what that stuff’s all about. The Henry Allen and William Rose stuff.”
“What is it?” she asked. She wore the same serious look she had when she worked on her taxes or paid bills.
“I need something from you first.”
“What?”
“It’s a big favor.”
“Are you trying to negotiate with me? You know, I can talk to Detective Poole any time I want. I can read about this in the paper. What do you want?”
“I want to go on TV tomorrow night. With you.”
His mom stared at him for a long moment. Her eyes blinked a few times. “Are you nuts?”