When they returned home, Jenna approached the house cautiously.
Domino55 might be around. Whoever he was.
Jenna carried her pepper spray in one hand and insisted on walking ahead of Jared.
“Shouldn’t I go first?” he asked. “I’m supposed to be the man of the house.”
“Not until you pay rent,” she said. “Until then, I’m the man of the house.”
But there were no problems. No sign of anyone lurking in the bushes. No sign of any break-in. As Jenna slipped her key into the lock, the bright glare of the porch light illuminating her work, a police cruiser rolled by, the extra protection promised by Naomi Poole.
Jenna breathed easier as they went inside. But she still made sure to turn the dead bolt behind her, to do whatever she could to keep out everything that needed to be kept out.
Jared went out to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He slid containers and jars around while Jenna stopped behind him, leaning against the counter.
“Do you want me to make you something?” she asked.
“I’m good. I’m not really hungry. I’m just looking.”
“I feel terrible for Ursula,” Jenna said. “She seemed so alone. So small and lost.”
Jared took out a jar of pickles and closed the refrigerator. “Sure. You’re right.” He opened the jar and started munching, pickle juice dripping onto the floor.
Jenna pointed at the mess.
“Sorry,” he said and leaned over the sink. “She’s . . . yeah, I feel bad for her. She lost her mom. She’s trying to get by as best she can. I should be sympathetic when she’s cold.”
“I need to do a better job for her,” Jenna said. “I hope getting back in touch with Ian allows me to do that. Celia would have liked it, don’t you think?”
“You talking to Ursula? Or Ian?”
“Ursula,” Jenna said quickly. “Well, both.”
Jared shrugged and took another pickle from the jar. “Sure. I guess.”
Jenna’s phone rang. She looked at the screen. “Shit. It’s Naomi.”
“So?”
“I jump out of my skin every time she calls.”
The phone kept ringing.
“Not answering it doesn’t change whatever she has to tell you,” Jared said.
Jenna watched him wipe pickle juice off his chin. “When did you get so wise?”
She took the call.
“Can I bend your ear for a minute?” Naomi asked.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, no. There’s no news.”
Jenna’s heart was beating fast. She took deep breaths, trying to slow it down. Would she be jumping this way at the sound of a phone for the rest of her life?
“I guess that’s good,” Jenna said.
“I hear Reena is on your case to do the show again,” Naomi said.
“She is.” Jenna felt angry just thinking of Reena’s smug face. “I told her I’d think about it. She wants Jared to go on as well.”
“So, what are you thinking?” Naomi asked.
“I think I’d hate myself if I could have gone on that show and made a difference. If one person knew something about Celia or Natalie and my going on there could have tipped the scales. I know it’s crazy.”
“Not entirely. But you don’t sound certain.”
“I’m not, Naomi.” Jenna tried to keep her voice level. “I hate that bitch. I hate her overly made up, sanctimonious guts. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let her anywhere near my son.”
“That’s good.”
“You know who I’d feel like if I went on there?”
“Who?” Naomi asked.
“Charlie Brown.”
“Trying to kick the football every year?”
“Exactly. Tell me, Naomi, tell me I don’t have to go on. Tell me it won’t really make a difference.”
“Jenna, the word about Celia and Natalie is out on loads of news outlets and social media sites. You don’t have to carry the whole burden alone. You know that, don’t you? You’re not in this alone.”
The detective’s words brought a catch of emotion to Jenna’s throat. Simple. Direct. Calming.
She wasn’t alone.
“Then can I tell Reena to screw off?” she asked.
“I wish you would,” Naomi said.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Jenna didn’t want to watch the next night.
She tried to channel Ian, his detached calm, his refusal to get drawn into any of the messy emotional scenes surrounding Celia’s disappearance.
She tried reading another romance novel. She tried cooking. She stood over the stove with her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and made an omelet and bacon, the little splatters of grease hitting her wrist and hands and decorating the backsplash.
But she knew Reena was in town. In town and on TV.
And she wouldn’t be in town and on TV unless she had something important to say.