Since She Went Away (29 page)

He wanted to beg off, citing the history book in front of him, but a fact remained just as true in high school as it was in their childhood—he couldn’t say no to Ursula. Back then it was because Ursula was three months older than he was. And maybe when he was a kid, the memory
of his sore head from the coffee table edge had kept him in line. As a teenager, he thought it was because she knew how to talk in a way that didn’t allow for arguments.

Jared packed his things and stood up. As they walked away, Mike said, “You know I’m always available to talk, Ursula, if you ever get tired of the snotty country club boys.”

She turned on her heel and looked at Mike as if he were a bug. “I’d have to get awfully tired to come talk to you.”

•   •   •

Jared followed her outside. He couldn’t help it—he again watched the movement of her hips, the shape of her butt, only this time, in the daylight, he was better able to see it all and feel the bubbling surge of lust in the middle of his body. He hated to think Mike was right, that there were many, many more fish in the sea besides Natalie, but he knew it was true. And even if Natalie came back, would they be together? One of the last things she did was break up with him and return his book.

Ursula led him to an area outside the cafeteria where students were allowed to mill around and talk before the next period started. In the old days, even before Jared’s mom went to school there, it was the smoking area where students could light up cigarettes and who knew what else.

It wasn’t miserably cold, and Jared was thankful for that, but it was cold enough that most of his fellow students stayed away. They opted to remain in the cafeteria, shooting the shit with their friends or preparing for all the tests and quizzes they hadn’t already studied for. About fifteen kids sat outside, mostly burnouts and freaks, the ones who wore black clothes and listened to the darkest, dreariest music imaginable. They never went to dances or football games, never joined any clubs. Jared knew he didn’t fit in everywhere, but he wasn’t as low on the social ladder as they were.

Ursula sat on a short wall, away from the other kids. A couple looked up, and one sneered when he saw them. Jared sat next to her, making sure not to get too close. They made an interesting pair—the girl whose mom disappeared and the guy whose mom everyone thought left her hanging on the night she was taken.

Ursula crossed her legs and stared off into the distance. She acted as if Jared weren’t there, and he wondered if she’d brought him along for any real reason, or if she just wanted to sit and intensely ignore him for a few minutes. He was on the brink of reaching for his history book when she said, “I hear you got invited to go on TV tomorrow night.”

“I did? What are you talking about?”

“No one told you?”

“No. How do you know anything about it?”

She still didn’t look at him. “That Reena Huffman bitch is coming to town to do interviews. She wants to talk to your mom. And you. She also wants to talk to my dad, but he won’t do it. She told him she invited you both on. I guess she thinks that will move him to reconsider, which it won’t.” She finally turned to face him. “He’s hopeless. Doesn’t he know how bad that makes him look?”

“You mean it makes him look guilty?” Jared asked.

Ursula studied him. In the dull winter sun, he saw the spray of freckles across her nose, fainter than when they were kids but still there. “Or unfeeling. Take your pick. Everybody already thinks of him as the ice man. He’s just feeding into it.”

“My mom didn’t mention it,” Jared said. But he had to admit she had seemed a little off her game as they got ready that morning. She didn’t talk as much, and she seemed to lack energy. He thought he’d heard the phone ring while he was still deep asleep. Had that been the cause of her mood? An invitation to Reena’s show? “She tries to shield me from the media and stuff.”

“I get it,” Ursula said, looking back off into the distance. “Here’s
the thing, my dad thinks your mom said no. That’s the vibe he got from Reena’s people. They called him again and again, trying to get more out of him. The media, they’re vultures. Reena just comes around and tries to get ratings off our suffering. It’s all bullshit.” A light breeze picked up, making Jared shiver a little. The breeze also brought a sweet scent from Ursula, something that smelled like flowers, either her shampoo or her body spray. “People think I’m unfeeling too,” she said. “It’s my mom this happened to. I’m closer to this than anybody.”

Even in profile, Jared saw the emotion in Ursula’s eyes. He felt for her because she looked so lonely and small, no longer the invincible tough girl everybody imagined her to be.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s fine. You know, whatever.”

“I really don’t want to go on TV,” Jared said. “You’re right, it’s kind of bullshit. I’m glad my mom took care of it.”

Ursula turned back to him quickly, her eyes boring in on his. She held his gaze for a long, uncomfortable amount of time, her gaze appearing to absorb information about him as if her brain were a supercomputer.

“What?” Jared asked.

“I think you
should
go on. With Reena. Your mom too.”

“Why? I thought it was bullshit.”

“It is. But we’re both in the same boat here. That guy, that William Rose or whoever he is, he took something important away from both of us. My mom and your girlfriend. And I’m thinking of Bobby too. You saw him the other night. He’s so torn up. His dad was murdered. Somebody has to tell the story for us, don’t you think?”

“You suddenly care about Natalie and me?” Jared asked.

Ursula shrugged. “Not exactly. I care about my mom. You care about Natalie.”

“Why don’t you go on, then?” Jared asked.

“My dad won’t let me. He hasn’t really let me near the media in a long time. It’s like your mom. He wants to protect me. He certainly won’t let me go on if he’s not willing to go on. How would that look? But your mom could go on. And so could you.”

“And how do you know all this?” Jared asked.

“My dad. He talked to Reena, and he told me. He’s been talking to me more than ever. You know, he’s trying to be both parents and all that. It’s kind of sweet in a way, how much he’s trying. He’s a little lost.” She looked sad but determined. “Anyway, if you just talk to your mom, explain to her how important it all is, she’ll probably go along.” She licked her lips. “Your mom hasn’t made the best impression on the media lately. So maybe you could both work on that.”

Jared ignored the criticism of his mother, but he couldn’t ignore Ursula’s ability to persuade him. Something about the way she spoke, the certainty of her tone, the force of her voice, made him feel as though saying no simply wasn’t an alternative.

But he didn’t trust her. He knew someone like Ursula used people only for her own ends, but what if her goals and his overlapped? He wanted Natalie brought home safe. If he had to deal with Ursula to make that happen, then so be it.

And it didn’t hurt that she looked so good. Over the years, his mom had complained more than once about how easy and simpleminded men were when it came to attractive women. She was right. It was tough to say no to one.

“I’ll talk to her,” Jared said. He found himself already reconsidering his gut-level position against going on TV. He was the only one who could speak for Natalie. Her mother was dead. Her father a brutal criminal. And his mom didn’t know her the way he did. She wasn’t as invested in her safe return. She cared, of course, but not as much as he did. “I’ll try.”

“Do that.” Her hand came over and landed on his knee. Through
the denim he felt her gently squeeze, and he couldn’t stop the reaction that rose again in the center of his body. His stomach tingled, and he felt the first stirrings of an erection. She just as quickly removed her hand. “I know I’ve been kind of a bitch to you and your friends.” She looked into the distance again. “It’s not you. I’m like that with everybody. I just, you know, get impatient. I get shitty with people. My mom . . . all this stuff makes it worse.”

“I know.”

She didn’t react to what he said. She squeezed his knee again and walked away, leaving Jared to wonder what exactly she was up to.

But in the end, if he got on TV and helped Natalie, did Ursula’s motivations really matter?

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

D
uring her lunch hour, Jenna slipped out to the parking lot to make a phone call. The sun had appeared and reflected painfully off windshields and hubcaps, although it brought little warmth. Jenna packed a sandwich and a bottle of water, and she carried them to the car with her, seeking privacy.

She dialed the number at Walters Foundry, the one from the business card Ian had given her. While the phone rang, she flicked the card with her thumbnail, making a satisfying clicking noise inside the car.

A secretary answered, and Jenna asked to speak with Ian. When the woman asked who was calling, Jenna hesitated for the briefest of moments. And why? She couldn’t say. On some level, she thought Sally was right. Maybe she shouldn’t be calling Ian at all. But she wanted to talk to him before she went on TV.

“Jenna Barton.”

Did she imagine the pause by the secretary? She heard another phone chirping in the background, the low murmur of music. Had the secretary been instructed to put her through or turn her away?

“One moment, please.”

Then the music was in her ear, some canned, whispery Muzak, the kind of stuff her grandmother used to play in the afternoons when Jenna visited. She remembered the old woman humming along to “Theme From ‘A Summer Place,’” her mind someplace other than Hawks Mill.

Jenna expected the secretary to come back and take a message, but then Ian answered, saying hello in a formal voice.

“Are you busy?” Jenna asked. “Is this a bad time?”

“It’s good,” he said, his voice warming. “Is something going on?”

“Not really. Well, I’ve been thinking about something you said the other day, something about Celia.”

“About Celia?” His voice grew lower, as though he didn’t want someone to hear him speak her name. “What about her?”

“It’s nothing bad. It’s good. You said we needed to talk about happy memories instead of just always talking about the awful things that have happened. Are happening.”

“I saw the news,” Ian said, his voice rushed. “That girl . . . and she was right there in your house, spending time with Jared. To think of that. Well, Detective Poole gave me the lowdown on the whole situation. They want to see if this man, this William Rose, had anything to do with Celia.”

Jenna heard the struggle for composure and control in Ian’s voice. She wondered if it was a mistake to call. They had a suspect now, a man with a name and a face they could try to tie to Celia’s disappearance. They’d gone so long with nothing, not a hint or a lead, that she wanted to view the identification of a potential suspect as something to be celebrated, even mildly. But how could anyone think to celebrate or feel good about news like that?

“It scares the hell out of me to be so close to these things,” Jenna said. “How did this end up being my life?”

“I don’t know.” His voice sounded distant and hollow, like a corn husk rustled by an autumn wind.

Jenna rushed to fill the silence before it settled between them forever. “I got invited to do an interview on TV tomorrow night. Reena Huffman’s show. I know she tried to get you on as well, but I told her no. She’s awful, and she’s been saying such horrible things about me.”

“I don’t blame you for that. You’ve been trying to be accommodating, to be loyal to Celia, but you don’t need to go on TV with that monster.”

“Are you sure, Ian? It might help.”

“No. Forget it.”

“It’s an opportunity to spread the word about Celia and Natalie. You know there’s a chance—”

She stopped herself. The words fell out of her mouth in a rush, so she slammed on her verbal brakes before she finished the sentence.

But Ian knew what she was going to say. He finished the thought for her. “There’s a better chance for this Natalie girl than for Celia. I get it. He’s her father. He’s kept her alive this long.”

“I’m sorry, Ian.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to go on there. When I first heard your voice today, I thought you were calling to talk me into going on.”

“I wasn’t going to try to talk you into anything. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with me saying no. I could go on and on about Celia, as you know. I could never run out of things to say about her, especially from when we were growing up.”

Ian grew silent. Jenna heard two deep breaths through the phone.

When Ian spoke again, his voice was phlegmy. “What I want everyone to know . . . I know what’s important.” He cleared his
throat, once and then twice. “I know Celia was a very good mother. I hope everyone knows that about her. You know that, right?”

“I do.”

“I have to go, Jenna. I have someone coming by.”

He was off the phone before Jenna could apologize.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

J
enna was walking in the front door of her house when her cell phone rang. She answered and heard the familiar voice of Sally. “Can I bend your ear for a moment?”

“Sure. I’m just getting home.”

When she came into the living room, the phone pressed to her ear, Jared appeared from his bedroom, an anxious look on his face. He started to speak but stopped when he saw she was talking to someone else.

“I just feel like we kind of gave each other the cold shoulder today,” Sally said. “I think that conversation last night at Haley’s didn’t go the way either one of us wanted.”

Jared lingered in the room, pacing back and forth with his hands swinging at his side. He looked like a hungry dog wanting to be fed.

“You’re looking out for me,” Jenna said. “I get it.”

“I am looking out for you. I know you’ve been through a lot these last few months. It’s really intense.”

Jenna went to her bedroom and kicked off her shoes. She sat on the bed, working her toes into the thick carpet. “I can take care of myself, you know? I’ve been doing it a long time.” As she spoke, she remembered all the other times Sally offered unsolicited advice and
opinions. Jenna knew she was no one to throw stones considering her own tendency to verbally fire from the hip and ask questions later. It was part of the reason she liked Sally so much—they both spoke their minds to each other, consequences be damned. But she’d spent the day thinking of Ian, thinking of the way they’d reached each other as they talked. No, she hadn’t been close to Ian over the years, but weren’t the normal rules out the window with someone from high school? Growing up together was almost like sharing the same DNA. How much talking did it take to feel that rekindled connection?