Since She Went Away(72)

“I can talk to any reporter.”

“Not one with this much reach. And that girl, Natalie, she could be anywhere in the country now. So could Celia, for that matter.”

Jenna had to admit—Becky was no dummy. She knew the right buttons to push at the right time. She had managed to get Jenna out to that barn for the discovery of a set of deer bones. And she’d made it nearly impossible for Jenna to say no to Reena’s request. What had Jenna been told ever since Celia disappeared? “You never know which piece of information would solve the case. You never know what might help.”

“How long is it? I mean, this is going to be a short segment, right? Just a few minutes?”

“Well, probably a little longer than that.” Becky sounded cagey. She was going to turn over another card. “We wanted to have another guest on with you.”

“Who?” Jenna asked. “Ian?”

“Ian? Lord no. He won’t go on TV. He barely talks to us. No, we were really hoping to make this as personal as possible, to get someone on who really knew the victims. The missing victims. You know Celia, of course. Very well. And then we were hoping to have someone on who knows Natalie Rose well. We wanted Jared to come on with you.”

“No,” Jenna said. “No. No way. He’s not going on TV.”

“But—”

“No. You need to drop this about him. If you want me on, you need to leave him out of it.”

“Can you at least think about it?” Becky asked, her voice rising higher as she pled her case. “It would be fantastic.”

“No,” Jenna said. “Nonnegotiable. In fact, you know what?”

“What?”

“Forget the whole thing. You don’t get me, and you certainly don’t get my son.”

She hung up before Becky could say anything else.





CHAPTER FIFTY


The din of the cafeteria went on and on around them. Every once in a while, Jared stopped and listened to it. Really listened to it. The voices and shouts, the clattering of trays and silverware and scooting chairs, made a racket that assaulted the ears. Jared wondered how they all could handle being surrounded by it day after day.

But they did. Everybody sat there day after day. And their lives went on as they always had. So much human activity, so much life. So much of it mundane and pointless.

Jared chewed his food, his history textbook open before him. He’d told Syd and Mike about the detective coming by the night before, about the DNA match between Holly Crenshaw’s body and Natalie’s father. They both listened with their mouths hanging open, even though they’d heard a lot of it from their parents. Even Mike, who never acted as if he cared about anything, appeared captivated by the news. He hung on every word as if Jared were a celebrity. Or the president.

When Jared finished talking, Syd looked crushed. “And I left right before the cop showed up? If I’d stayed longer I would have heard all this myself.”

“It’s not that exciting,” Jared said. “The detective looks like she’s someone’s grandma. She looks like one of our teachers, kind of old and frumpy. I don’t even think she has a gun.” Jared made a mental note to check the next time he saw Detective Poole.

“Still,” Mike said, “it’s pretty wild. And it’s happening right here in Hawks Mill. It’s shitty for you and everything, but it’s kind of fascinating. If you could separate the part about human beings, real human beings, suffering from the crazy details, it would be pretty cool. I mean, like, if it were a movie or a TV show.”

Jared turned back to his book. “You can’t really separate that part. Ever.”

Jared lost himself in the reading, blocking out the noise as best he could. He read about Rome, the fall of the empire, and just as the barbarians invaded, he noticed Mike squirming around in his seat, looking above Jared’s head at something or someone moving behind him. Mike usually stopped and paid attention to the world around him only if a beautiful girl was walking by.

Somebody tapped Jared on the shoulder. He looked back.

It was Ursula. She stood over him, her face determined.

“I need to talk to you,” she said.

“Again?”

“Yes. Again.”

She wore a long-sleeve T-shirt and black leggings. Her boots came up to her knees, and Jared couldn’t help thinking of Nazis from World War II movies, the actors strutting around in crisp uniforms, their heels clicking as they saluted and talked.

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.