Since She Went Away(74)
Jared ignored the criticism of his mother, but he couldn’t ignore Ursula’s ability to persuade him. Something about the way she spoke, the certainty of her tone, the force of her voice, made him feel as though saying no simply wasn’t an alternative.
But he didn’t trust her. He knew someone like Ursula used people only for her own ends, but what if her goals and his overlapped? He wanted Natalie brought home safe. If he had to deal with Ursula to make that happen, then so be it.
And it didn’t hurt that she looked so good. Over the years, his mom had complained more than once about how easy and simpleminded men were when it came to attractive women. She was right. It was tough to say no to one.
“I’ll talk to her,” Jared said. He found himself already reconsidering his gut-level position against going on TV. He was the only one who could speak for Natalie. Her mother was dead. Her father a brutal criminal. And his mom didn’t know her the way he did. She wasn’t as invested in her safe return. She cared, of course, but not as much as he did. “I’ll try.”
“Do that.” Her hand came over and landed on his knee. Through the denim he felt her gently squeeze, and he couldn’t stop the reaction that rose again in the center of his body. His stomach tingled, and he felt the first stirrings of an erection. She just as quickly removed her hand. “I know I’ve been kind of a bitch to you and your friends.” She looked into the distance again. “It’s not you. I’m like that with everybody. I just, you know, get impatient. I get shitty with people. My mom . . . all this stuff makes it worse.”
“I know.”
She didn’t react to what he said. She squeezed his knee again and walked away, leaving Jared to wonder what exactly she was up to.
But in the end, if he got on TV and helped Natalie, did Ursula’s motivations really matter?
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
During her lunch hour, Jenna slipped out to the parking lot to make a phone call. The sun had appeared and reflected painfully off windshields and hubcaps, although it brought little warmth. Jenna packed a sandwich and a bottle of water, and she carried them to the car with her, seeking privacy.
She dialed the number at Walters Foundry, the one from the business card Ian had given her. While the phone rang, she flicked the card with her thumbnail, making a satisfying clicking noise inside the car.
A secretary answered, and Jenna asked to speak with Ian. When the woman asked who was calling, Jenna hesitated for the briefest of moments. And why? She couldn’t say. On some level, she thought Sally was right. Maybe she shouldn’t be calling Ian at all. But she wanted to talk to him before she went on TV.
“Jenna Barton.”
Did she imagine the pause by the secretary? She heard another phone chirping in the background, the low murmur of music. Had the secretary been instructed to put her through or turn her away?
“One moment, please.”
Then the music was in her ear, some canned, whispery Muzak, the kind of stuff her grandmother used to play in the afternoons when Jenna visited. She remembered the old woman humming along to “Theme From ‘A Summer Place,’” her mind someplace other than Hawks Mill.
Jenna expected the secretary to come back and take a message, but then Ian answered, saying hello in a formal voice.
“Are you busy?” Jenna asked. “Is this a bad time?”
“It’s good,” he said, his voice warming. “Is something going on?”
“Not really. Well, I’ve been thinking about something you said the other day, something about Celia.”
“About Celia?” His voice grew lower, as though he didn’t want someone to hear him speak her name. “What about her?”
“It’s nothing bad. It’s good. You said we needed to talk about happy memories instead of just always talking about the awful things that have happened. Are happening.”
“I saw the news,” Ian said, his voice rushed. “That girl . . . and she was right there in your house, spending time with Jared. To think of that. Well, Detective Poole gave me the lowdown on the whole situation. They want to see if this man, this William Rose, had anything to do with Celia.”
Jenna heard the struggle for composure and control in Ian’s voice. She wondered if it was a mistake to call. They had a suspect now, a man with a name and a face they could try to tie to Celia’s disappearance. They’d gone so long with nothing, not a hint or a lead, that she wanted to view the identification of a potential suspect as something to be celebrated, even mildly. But how could anyone think to celebrate or feel good about news like that?
“It scares the hell out of me to be so close to these things,” Jenna said. “How did this end up being my life?”
“I don’t know.” His voice sounded distant and hollow, like a corn husk rustled by an autumn wind.
Jenna rushed to fill the silence before it settled between them forever. “I got invited to do an interview on TV tomorrow night. Reena Huffman’s show. I know she tried to get you on as well, but I told her no. She’s awful, and she’s been saying such horrible things about me.”
“I don’t blame you for that. You’ve been trying to be accommodating, to be loyal to Celia, but you don’t need to go on TV with that monster.”
“Are you sure, Ian? It might help.”