Since She Went Away(27)

Celia knew it, although the two friends never ever talked about it. But Jenna remembered how high Celia turned up the volume on her thousand-watt smile as soon as she saw Ian’s interest in Jenna. Once Celia set her sights on Ian, Jenna knew she didn’t have a chance. Celia was prettier, more polished. Celia came from a better family, one almost equal in stature to Ian’s in Hawks Mill. Like a fighter who knew when she’d met her match, Jenna bowed out gracefully and let things progress the way they were supposed to.

Despite Celia’s easy victory, or maybe because of it, a barrier always existed between Jenna and Ian, an invisible force field that seemed to repel them away from each other in even the most mundane situations. They rarely shared a joke or made much more than small talk. As the years went by, Ian worked more, spent more and more time invested in his career. The truth was, Jenna and Celia’s friendship existed independently of Ian and almost never involved him.

“That hasn’t been the case with us,” Jenna said, hoping the line of questioning would end. She was late for work, and if Naomi expected to hear something new from her about Celia’s marriage, she would be waiting a long time. “You’ve talked to Ian more recently than I have.”

“I guess so, then.”

“How is he doing?” Jenna asked.

“He’s holding up as well as he can.”

“He was treated pretty poorly when Celia disappeared,” Jenna said. “People assumed . . .”

“We didn’t.”

“But you questioned him. For a long time. Repeatedly.”

“Wasn’t I supposed to do my job?” Naomi asked, her voice acquiring a little edge. “Wasn’t I supposed to do that for Celia?”

“Of course.” Jenna felt bad for implying that the detective had been too hard on Ian. He was the missing woman’s spouse. Everyone knew the odds. And Ian could take care of himself. “I can only tell you what I know from Celia about their marriage, and that’s that they were doing as well as they always were.”

Naomi didn’t speak, but she held her gaze on Jenna’s face for a longer period of time than seemed normal. Something flickered in the woman’s eyes, a poker player’s glint that said she might just know something Jenna didn’t. But again, just like the emphasis on the word “closer,” was it something Jenna was simply imagining in her own off-kilter state?

“Well, I’ll let you get to work,” Naomi said.

They stood and shook hands, and Naomi promised to be in touch if she needed anything else.

“Can you do me a favor, Detective?” Jenna asked.

“Sure.”

“Can you tell Holly Crenshaw’s family I’m thinking of them? I know what this is like. I hate to think of other people going through it as well.”

“I’ll pass it along.”

“And you’ll let me know—”

“If we learn anything from Ludlow, anything I can share, I’ll call.”

As Jenna walked across the lobby, heading toward the entrance to Family Medicine, the sense came over her that Naomi was watching her walk away. Jenna didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want to know the truth, but couldn’t help herself. She craned her neck around and looked, but Naomi was gone.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


Jenna fell into the easy rhythms of the workday. She tried not to think about Ian. Or Celia. Or Benny Ludlow. She never thought she’d be thinking about Benny Ludlow again.

But how did he end up with Celia’s earring?

Were Celia and Holly Crenshaw hurt by the same person?

Was it Benny Ludlow?

Sally distracted her. They traded notes over how tired they were when they woke up that morning. “Are you kidding? The wine helps me sleep,” Sally said. “That’s why I drink some every night. Doctor’s orders.”

Jenna admitted her sleep had been lousy, the lingering effects of the previous day’s events, particularly the disagreement with Jared.

“The boys,” Sally said, shaking her head. “They develop the sassiest mouths. If mine hadn’t been so big, I would have kept right on spanking them.”

Just before eleven, Jenna stepped out to the lobby and called a patient back. A middle-aged man, someone she had never seen in the office before. Possibly a new patient or someone she simply hadn’t crossed paths with yet. When she called the man’s name, he looked up, a hopeful smile on his face. People usually smiled when they were called back. Their wait was ending. They were that much closer to getting an answer from the doctor or receiving treatment. More than anything, they didn’t have to wait anymore.

But as the man came closer to Jenna, the look on his face changed. His brow wrinkled, the smile disappeared. When she attempted to make the usual small talk—How are you today? Is it any warmer out there?—the man grunted.

She understood. Some people didn’t want to talk. They wanted the business conducted without any of the frills. Except the smile the man first showed marked him as a talker . . .

When they entered the exam room, Jenna pulled out the blood pressure cuff.

“Just relax your arm,” she said. “No need to roll up your sleeve.”

The man cleared his throat. “Is there another nurse who can do this?”

“Excuse me?”