Since She Went Away(63)

“He let her go to school,” Naomi said. “She wasn’t a prisoner all the time. And she didn’t tell you or anyone else at the school that she was being mistreated or abused. She could have run away, and she didn’t. Right?”

Jared’s shoulders rose and fell, a hopeless shrug. Or an admission of defeat. “I wish to God I knew more. I really do. I’d give anything to be able to see her again and learn more about her. But most of the things she told me were lies.”

Jenna reached over and rubbed his back. She ached for him. It was bad enough to get dumped, to lose his first love, but to lose it all in such a shocking way. She felt powerless to ease the boy’s pain. She might have to get him help. Real help.

“Is that all, Detective?” Jenna asked.

“No,” Naomi said. “I have to keep bugging you two.” She reached into the pocket on the inside of her jacket. Jenna thought only men’s clothes had a pocket there. “We’ve identified the body we found in that house. Or I should say, you found in that house. I need to know if you know him.”

She brought out a photo of a balding, middle-aged man wearing very unstylish glasses. “Recognize him?”

“No,” Jenna said.

But Jared said, “Sure. That’s Mr. Allen. I go to school with his son.”





CHAPTER FORTY-THREE


Jared picked up the photo, staring at the awkward, posed portrait. It looked like something taken at work, maybe for a company Web site, and the smile on the man’s face looked as if he’d rather be anywhere than sitting in front of a camera.

“How do you know him?” Detective Poole asked.

“I don’t really know him,” he said. “I know his son, Bobby. Bobby and I were on a soccer team once.” He looked up at his mom. “Remember that year I played soccer for the Optimists’ Club? Bobby was on the team.”

His mom nodded, although he couldn’t tell if she really knew who the kid was or not.

He said to the detective, “His dad used to come to some of the games. Once he got into an argument with a referee over something stupid. He thought Bobby had been fouled, but the ref didn’t make the call. The whole thing was insane. We were losing, like, ten to one. We were kids. But he ended up getting the team a red card. I felt awful for Bobby. He stood there with his head down while his dad made an ass of himself. That’s who it is, isn’t it?”

Detective Poole nodded. “Indeed. Henry Allen is the man you found deceased in that house.”

Jared stared at the picture again. It was hard to imagine that lump in the living room, that still, cold, bloated body, had once been a living man, someone capable of fathering a son and arguing with a referee. He had felt the same way at his grandfather’s funeral years earlier. He couldn’t reconcile the stiff, overly made up body in the casket with the vigorous man who had once lifted him in the air and swung him around. Jared knew everyone ended up that way, dead and cold, empty and lifeless. It didn’t matter if the body was in a funeral home or on the floor of a shitty house. Dead was dead.

Had Tabitha—Natalie—met the same fate?

“He was murdered, right?” Jared asked. “That’s why all the blood was behind his head.”

“We’re treating it as a homicide,” Naomi said. “Did you ever see Mr. Allen in the vicinity of Natalie’s house?”

“Never.”

“And Natalie never mentioned him to you?”

“Never.”

“But you went to school with his son, Bobby?”

“He’s a grade ahead of me.”

“Did Natalie know him?” she asked.

Jared paused to think about it. “She didn’t have many friends. She’d only been in the school a few weeks. I can’t say for sure she didn’t know him, but I never saw them together. She never mentioned him to me. Bobby ran with a different crowd than us.”

“What kind of crowd is that?” Naomi asked.

“The rich kids. In fact, you know who he’s friends with? Bobby? I just saw them together the other night. He hangs out with Ursula Walters. They were in the park a few days ago when I went walking through.”

Something crossed Detective Poole’s face, a look of mild surprise or curiosity. She didn’t have to say anything about it. Everyone in the room saw the strangeness of the circumstances: Bobby Allen, the son of a murder victim, is friends with Ursula Walters, the daughter of a kidnapping victim. And Bobby’s father is found dead at the home of another girl who was apparently kidnapped and in danger.

“And Ursula and Natalie weren’t friends?” Naomi asked.

“No. They were in a couple of classes together, I know that. The other night, when I saw Ursula in the park, she called . . . Natalie weird. You could tell she said it just to be hurtful. She didn’t really know her. Natalie. She just wanted to be nasty in some way. She’s a raving bitch.”

“Jared,” his mom said, “don’t say that. Ursula’s probably just jealous.”

“Jealous of what?” Jared asked. “Of me?”

“Not exactly,” his mom said. “Mean girls don’t like it when anyone makes them look bad. Let’s face it, Natalie is a gorgeous girl. Have you seen a picture, Detective?”

“I have. We got one from the school.”