Since She Went Away (17 page)

“What are they saying on the news?” she asked Sally.

“Not much, of course. Are you sure you want to hear any of it?”

“Absolutely.”

“I heard on the radio they found her in some remote area. I guess a farmer was out working his land in advance of spring, and he came across the body and called the police.”

“Not the same barn?”

“Oh, no. This was near the county line, but on our side. Not close to where you were Monday.”

“So it’s murder,” Jenna said. “She was murdered.”

“They’re not saying.”

“What are we supposed to think? She wandered out into some field and had a heart attack? She’s in her twenties.”

Jenna’s voice was harsh, sarcastic, and unforgiving.

Sally didn’t even flinch. “I guess we’ll know more as the day goes on,” she said, stepping over to pour herself a cup of coffee. “Do you want water or something? I’d offer you wine, but they frown on that here.”

“I want this cop to answer.”

“I’ve been reading about this girl, this Holly Crenshaw,” Sally said. “I understand if you’ve avoided it.”

“I know a little,” Jenna said. “Married. Young.” She took it all in for a moment, the phone in her hand and away from her ear. “Her parents, Sally. God. They’re going to have to bury their daughter.”

“Maybe you should head home,” Sally said.

Jenna didn’t want to leave. She’d missed enough time already, but how was she expected to stay and work with all this craziness swirling through her mind?

“I’m staying,” Jenna said. “I think. I don’t know. Shit, Sally, I’ve missed a lot of work. I have a kid who wants to go to college. He wants to get a car. I need to work.”

“That’s fine,” Sally said. “Would you like me to sit here with you?”

“I’ll be out as soon as I can,” Jenna said. “Thanks.”

Then Naomi called back. Jenna answered, and she didn’t even try to keep the eagerness out of her voice. “What can you tell me?” Jenna asked.

“My information is limited,” Naomi said. “Why don’t I call you back when I know more?”

“No,” Jenna said. “You tell me now. I don’t care if it’s only part of the picture.”

Naomi sighed. “Okay. I’ll tell you what I know, which isn’t much. And really, I shouldn’t be telling you anything at this point, but it’s getting out on the news, so I’ll share some things. We did find a body, a woman’s body, out near the county line this morning.”

“How do you know she isn’t Celia?” Jenna asked.

Naomi paused. “Given the condition of the remains and other identifying factors at the scene, we can tell this body hasn’t been there that long. Certainly not as long as Celia’s been gone.”

“But what if Celia didn’t die right away?” Jenna asked, holding out hope as long as she could.

“It’s not Celia,” Naomi said. “It’s Holly Crenshaw. The coroner will make an official identification and do an autopsy, but we can tell. It’s Holly.”

Jenna’s hands shook as she pulled a chair out from the table. She sank into it, her weight dropping down like a sandbag.

Naomi said, “We don’t know a cause of death yet. We don’t know many other details. Some idiot talked when he shouldn’t have talked and now it’s all over Twitter and the rest of the news. I had to scramble to get in touch with her husband and parents before they found out from some disc jockey’s tweets.”

Jenna stared at the random scattering of items on the table. Napkins, a coffee cup, the newspaper, and some old full-color ads. The objects seemed foreign to her, artifacts from another world, one where women didn’t disappear and end up dead.

“But she was murdered, right?” Jenna asked.

“I’m not going to jump to any conclusions, but we’re certainly treating it as a crime scene.”

“And you’re searching the area. . . . What if whoever did this, what if Celia is there?”

“We’re one step ahead of you,” Naomi said. “I’ve done this job before, unfortunately. We’re searching the area, of course. But, Jenna, don’t get your hopes up for anything.”

Jenna’s elbow rested on the table, and she cupped her head in her hand. It all seemed like a bad dream. Months of her life seemed like the most horrible dream imaginable.

And then she thought of Holly Crenshaw’s family again. They were suffering something unspeakable. The death of their child. The death of a spouse. A sister, a cousin, a friend. Would they ever know the truth about Celia? Would that day ever come for them?

“I have to get back to it,” Naomi said. “I’ll keep you in the loop as best I can, but it’s going to be a long day of sorting things out. And in the end, this case may have no connection whatsoever to Celia’s.”

“I know. You told me that.”

“Take care, Jenna.”

“Benny Ludlow,” Jenna said. “He’s a suspect.”

“Everyone is this early. We’ll talk soon. Okay?”

“Naomi?”

“Yes?”

“Will you tell Holly’s parents how sorry I am for them?”

“Sure I will.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I
n the parking lot, someone called her name.

Along the horizon a red band stretched as the sun disappeared, and birds, black dots against the sky, flew past in a giant mass. A chill approached, encroaching on the town as the night came on. Jenna pulled her coat tighter, thinking she’d only imagined hearing her name.

But the voice said it again. It was faint, a soft, childlike voice. She looked around. Most of the cars were gone, the other employees and patients clearing out. Late Friday afternoon, just before five. People had plans, or else they just wanted to get home to their families, order pizza, and watch mindless TV. All of those things sounded appealing to Jenna. She’d survived the day, working as hard as she could, trying to keep Holly Crenshaw’s death out of her mind. Nothing in her life, even raising a child, had ever required such deep wells of patience.

Jenna carried a canister of pepper spray in her right hand, and her grip on it tightened as she saw the figure approaching. But as the young woman emerged from the dark, Jenna decided she didn’t intend to cause anyone harm. The girl looked scared, her eyes wide and pleading in the darkness.

“Tabitha?”

The girl wore the same old coat, the same scuffed shoes. She carried something in her hand, something awkward and blocky. Jenna saw it was a book, a thick paperback, its cover worn and its pages dog-eared. Had she seen it before?

“Mrs. Barton?” she said. “I wanted to ask you a favor.”

“Is Jared with you?” Jenna asked, although it seemed obvious he wasn’t. She’d texted her son before she left the office, letting him know she was on her way. He wrote back quickly, telling her he was home.

“No.” She hesitated, looking around the lot as though someone might be spying on them. She acted as if they were two agents making a dead drop under watchful eyes. “He must have told you we broke up.”

“No, he didn’t.” Jenna felt a little heartsick for her son, and she understood why he’d been in such an unpleasant mood. “But I could tell something was wrong.”

“I know he’s probably upset.”

“Yeah. He seems like he is. Now I know why.” She studied the girl, remembering Jared’s question about the fatherly kiss. Had that been part of the breakup? “What are you doing here? Is there a problem?”

Tabitha held the book out in front of her. “Would you give this to Jared? I borrowed it from him, and I know it’s one of his favorites.” She hesitated, emotion flashing across her eyes. “It’s hard for me to see him now, but I knew you worked here. I was out doing some other things, but I have to get home.” She looked around at the darkening sky. “Would you mind?”

“No.” Jenna took the paperback from her.
The Great Book of Amber
by Roger Zelazny. She’d seen it in Jared’s room, seen him toting it around the house on more than one occasion. The thing must have had a thousand pages, and she shifted to tuck it under her arm. “Can I ask you something?”

The girl looked poised to go, but Jenna’s voice stopped her.

“It’s none of my business,” Jenna said, “but was the decision to break up mutual or not?”

Tabitha’s eyes darted around.

“It’s okay,” Jenna said. “I’m not trying to take sides here.”

Tabitha relaxed a little, the rigidness in her shoulders easing. “It was my idea,” she said. “I can’t get involved with anyone now.” She searched for the right words. “My dad, he wants me to go to college, and he says now isn’t the time to get serious with a boy or spend my time doing other things.”

The words came out in a torrent. Something about them sounded practiced, forced, as if Tabitha was just repeating what someone had told her to say.

“Your father’s pretty strict, isn’t he?”

“He wants what’s best for me.” The answer sounded less robotic. “He really does. That’s part of the reason we moved here. The schools are better. He . . . he’s trying to give me a better life.”

The light slipped away, making it more difficult to see the girl’s face. Jenna cocked her head to one side, studying Tabitha. Again she was struck by the familiarity of the girl’s features: the set of her eyes, the shape of her chin. She’d seen this girl somewhere before, or more likely, a relative of hers. She got the same feeling when she saw Ursula, and embedded in the teenager’s face was the ghost of her mother.

“And did you say your father isn’t from Hawks Mill? I knew some other Burkes, not just Tommy. What’s your dad’s name?”

“His name is Ed.”

“Ed Burke,” Jenna said.

The girl nodded. “But he’s not from Hawks Mill. He lived here once, a long time ago, I guess. But we don’t have any other relatives from here.”

“But he has friends here or something?” Jenna asked. “If he’s lived here before.”

“Work friends. He could get a job here.”

“Where does he work?”

“I have to go, Mrs. Barton. I’m late. I shouldn’t even be here. I really shouldn’t. My dad’s not home, and I need to get back.”

“Are you a patient here?” Jenna asked, pressing. “Or is your dad? I’ve seen you somewhere, haven’t I?”

Tabitha started backing away. “If you’ll just give the book to Jared. Tell him I really liked it. I didn’t finish it, but I liked it.”

Jenna moved forward, following the girl. She wanted to reach out, to offer the girl a comforting pat on the arm or a hug. Tabitha didn’t have a mother. She lived with a very strict father, one who might even be—

“Tabitha? Wait.”

“Bye, Mrs. Barton.”

“I can give you a ride. If you’re in some kind of trouble.”

Tabitha turned and broke into a run, hustling across the parking lot toward the far side where there was an opening in the fence.

Jenna broke in the same direction, running as best she could in her heavy coat. But she quickly saw she’d never catch up to the lightning-quick young girl.

“Tabitha?”

But she was gone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

J
ared was watching TV in the living room when Jenna walked in the door. She carried the book in her purse, its bulk pressing against her body like a cinder block. He looked up when she came in.

“Did you get stuck shooting the shit with someone?” he asked as he muted the TV. Jenna took a quick glance at the screen and saw it was a show about World War II. Grainy footage of airplanes diving and dropping bombs. She never knew what he’d find interesting. “Was it Sally? She always wants to bug you when you’re trying to get out of there.”

She sat on the couch, the bulky purse beside her. She still wore her coat, and Jared’s eyebrows lifted when he saw the way she was acting. He knew something was up, since she usually made a beeline for the bedroom and changed into yoga pants as if her work clothes were on fire.

“I didn’t talk to Sally. No.”

He turned the TV off and sat up in his chair. He tossed the remote aside as if it offended him. “Is it because of this body they found? I’m sorry, it kind of slipped my mind, but I read all about it on Twitter today. Did the cops want to talk to you?”

Holly Crenshaw. That name had slipped out of her mind ever since Tabitha walked up to her in the parking lot. “They did. This morning. I hate that stuff being all over Twitter.”

“People like to talk,” he said.

“Right. Look, honey, Tabitha came and talked to me as I was leaving work.”

Jared’s body jolted as if he’d been stuck with a knife. Every muscle went rigid, and his eyes widened. “Just now?”

“Just now. That’s why I was a little late. I’d stayed late anyway to catch up on some things, but then she found me in the parking lot.”

“What did she want? What did she say? Mom, she hasn’t been in school for days.”

Jenna brought out the book, its bulk making her hand sink toward the couch. She held it out to him, and Jared took it, handling it like something precious and fragile. “She said it belonged to you, and she wanted you to have it back. I tried to find out how she was doing, but she just took off. I even offered her a ride.”

He stared at the cover of the book, one hand rubbing its surface while the other held it. “Why did she come and give this to you?” He asked the question absently, not really expecting a response. His words were the words of someone who’d been wounded, stung by another’s rejection. “She could have brought it to me, here or at school.”

“She told me the two of you broke up.”

“She broke up with me,” he said.

“I got that feeling.”

“Was she okay?” he asked. “I haven’t talked to her or seen her. She hasn’t been in school. Did I mention that?”

“You did.” Jenna removed her coat and tossed it over the back of the couch. “Did it ever occur to you that Tabitha might be having bigger problems than your relationship? Maybe she’s in some kind of real trouble.”

Jared told Jenna that he’d tried to search for information about Tabitha online but found nothing. No social media, no trace of the life she’d lived before she arrived in Hawks Mill. And then he told her about a discussion he’d had with his guidance counselor, the woman who dressed like a hippie and seemed to want to be everybody’s friend. Jenna always felt put off by her clothes and demeanor, but Jared loved talking to her, and if she helped him navigate school and get into college, then so be it. Who cared what she wore?