Since She Went Away(59)

But he decided he wanted to get out. He needed to dedicate himself to school and not his friends or a girlfriend. If he pushed himself hard enough and got the best grades possible, he could try to go to school anywhere he wanted. Maybe California or New England. Maybe he could use his dad’s address and apply to the University of Texas, which he’d heard was a great place to go and live.

He laid Mark Twain aside and stared at the book Tabitha had returned to his mom. He hoped the book would carry some piece of Tabitha with it. Maybe a strand of her hair that fell into the pages, or maybe a lingering whiff of the flowery shampoo he loved to take deep breaths of when they were close. But the book smelled kind of gross, as if it had sat in a dirty kitchen where someone fried a greasy hamburger. He didn’t have any other mementoes of her. No articles of clothing, no real gifts.

He received a text from Mike, asking him to provide a refresher on the book during lunch the next day. Mike never read anything, never even tried. Jared wrote back, promising the information in exchange for a dessert or a chocolate milk. Mike agreed, and Jared decided he needed to start raising his prices.

And then his mom pushed the door to his room open.

She always knocked. The only time she didn’t was the day she found Tabitha on top of him, her hand doing things he could only fantasize about with her gone.

Jared sat up because his mom looked scared, the book sliding off his chest and onto the bed. His mom’s cheeks were pale, her eyes nervous and darting.

“What is it, Mom?”

“I need you to come and look at something.” It sounded more like an order than a request. His mother didn’t usually bark orders, even when she was at her most pissed. She made it seem as if it were his choice to do something, even when it clearly wasn’t. She added, “Now.”

“Okay, okay.”

He followed her across the house to the little office she kept in a spare bedroom. She pointed to the chair in front of her laptop, indicating he should sit down, and she stayed back, just behind him, while he looked at the news story she had open on the screen.

None of it made sense at first. A picture of Tabitha’s dad appeared on the screen. Next to it a photo of Tabitha. Why? Was it some social media site he’d never heard of but his mom had?

Then he saw it was a news site.

“What is this?” he asked, although he wasn’t directing the question at anyone in particular. He was talking to himself.

He studied the screen more, and as he did, he felt his legs becoming weaker, felt a cold stain of fear spread from the center of his body to the tips of his fingers and toes.

Tabitha’s picture. But with a different name underneath it.

It said she was from Grand Junction, Nebraska. Not Florida.

Tabitha and her father. In the newspaper.

And a headline with the word “murder” in it.

The wheels in his head moved slowly, like a car stuck in the mud. He couldn’t seem to keep up, to process everything he was meant to process. It was like a dream he didn’t understand even as he was having it.

His body started to shake.

“Is that Tabitha’s father?” his mom asked. “Is it?”

“It is. But his name’s not William Rose. What is this?”

He saw the headline. SUSPECT IN MURDER SPOTTED IN LOUISVILLE.

Louisville. Not far away. Not far away at all.

His mom had her phone out, pressing the buttons. “Somebody saw him in a store up there. We have to call the police. You said the school reported something, so they’re already looking to some extent. I’m calling Detective Poole.”

While she dialed, Jared scanned the story. The words didn’t make sense. They might as well have been a jumble, like those puzzles in the newspaper. But he caught certain things. “The man was alone when spotted . . . no sign of his wife or daughter . . . believed to be dead, a victim of Mr. Rose . . .”

But Tabitha wasn’t dead. Not a few days ago.

“No one saw her?” Jared asked, his voice faint.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

He saw the darkened house in his mind, the closed doors and pulled shades. He’d been right there, knocking and looking around.

Had Tabitha been inside while he spoke to the neighbor?

Could she have been in the house dead?

He was up, brushing past his mother.

“No,” she said, her voice harsh and authoritative. “You need to stay here. The police need to talk to you.”

“But Tabitha—”

“No. They need the address. It’s dangerous. What if that man is back?”

But Jared was gone, out the front door without a coat, without a plan.

For the second time, he ran to Tabitha’s house, hoping to save her.





CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE


The house still looked shut up and dark. Abandoned. Devoid of hope and life.

Jared glanced at the neighbor’s house and saw no sign of Mr. Fifties, his cigarette or his beer.

He remembered the news story they saw on the Web, the one with Tabitha’s—Natalie’s?—picture. A witness saw her dad. A cop. But they didn’t see her. And the authorities thought he’d killed her mother. . . .

Where was she if she wasn’t with her dad?

Maybe she was in the bathroom of the store, and that was why the witness missed her. Maybe she was hunched down in the back of the car. Maybe she’d blended into the crowd.