Since She Went Away(92)

“They’re a family heirloom.” Jenna reached across the table. “Can I just see it?”

“There’s a few of them. Swipe left to see them all.”

The first one showed a woman from behind. She appeared to be in line in a store. Maybe a hardware store, given the screwdrivers and socket sets in the background. She had brown hair, just like Celia’s, but unless Celia had gained some weight since she disappeared, it couldn’t be her. The woman in the photo was wider through the hips and butt than Celia had ever been. Or would ever let herself be.

Jenna swiped again. This time the woman was photographed at a gas pump, filling up her car. Her hair hung across her face, obscuring most of it. Same color, yes. But it could have been just about any middle-aged woman with brown hair. The clothes, functional and plain, didn’t look like anything Celia would ever wear.

She swiped to another one. The woman wore sunglasses and carried grocery bags. There was no way to tell who it was, and disappointment crept through the center of Jenna’s body. She felt like a deflated balloon.

“These don’t prove anything,” she said. “This could be anybody with brown hair. And Celia wouldn’t wear these clothes.”

“She would if she was hiding out,” Rick said, his voice full of triumphant pride.

“Did you talk to this woman? Did you approach her?”

“I called her name once. I shouted, ‘Celia!’ And she stopped and looked at me. And then she kept going.”

Jenna put the iPad down. She felt sorry for the old guy. Sorry for his enthusiasm and his loneliness and the disappointment he was about to feel when he understood he hadn’t solved anything or moved them any closer to finding Celia. She could tell he desperately wanted to do something important and relevant, to be one of the stars of the Dealey Society, but some blurry photos of a middle-aged woman going through her daily life and a half-baked theory about Celia escaping to a place she went to as a child wasn’t going to cut it.

“It’s not her, Rick.”

“How do you know?”

“She wouldn’t wear those clothes and you can’t see her face. And Celia’s body didn’t look like that.”

“Maybe she gained weight or something. To blend in.”

“She wouldn’t gain weight if her life depended on it,” Jenna said. She reached across the table, past the iPad and the mugs of coffee, and placed her hand on top of Rick’s. “I really appreciate you trying so hard. It does make me feel good that so many people care about finding Celia. It does. I’ve been on those message boards. I know how much people want to help. But I think you have a blind spot here. It’s not Celia.”

Rick managed to smile even though she could see the disappointment—and some sadness—in his eyes. “Are you sure I’m not onto something here?” he asked. “It felt so right.”

“Did you show these to the police?” Jenna asked. “You said you didn’t think they’d listen to you, but they might look at these photos.”

“I talked to a detective back home,” he said. “He basically blew me off.”

“The photos aren’t very conclusive.” Jenna reached back to earlier in their conversation, before the ridiculous photos appeared. “You said someone on one of the message boards told you about Celia’s grandparents being from Indiana?”

“Yes. I showed her the pictures too. Online, in a private chat. See, I didn’t want to share them publicly and make a big stink before I knew more. But I showed them to this lady, and she had a different reaction from you. She said she thought they were Celia.”

“And this is the same person who told you about Indiana?”

“That’s right.”

“And who is this?” Jenna asked. Her phone rang. Jared. She had forgotten to check in. She held up her finger. “I’m sorry, Rick. I have to take this. It’s my son.”

“Jared.”

Jenna gave him a look, one she hoped said back off. She didn’t like him acting so familiar with her son. Rick looked down.

“Hey, bud, I’m sorry,” Jenna said. “I’m fine. I just forgot to call.”

“Mom, you’ve got to get home.”

He sounded frantic.

“What happened?”

“Just get home. You need to get back here.”

“Did you call the police?” Jenna asked.

“We don’t need the police. Just get here. I need your help. We need your help.”

We?

“I’m on my way.” She grabbed her purse and coat and stood up. “I have to get home.”

“Do you want a ride? You said something about the police. I can help—”

“No.”

She started to go, but Rick’s voice brought her back. “Do you want to know the person’s name so you can check her out?”

“Whose name?”

“On the message board. The one who saw the pictures.”

“I don’t care, Rick.”

“Teddy Bear,” he said. “That’s it. Teddy Bear.”

“Thanks for the muffin.” Jenna rushed out of the diner.





CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN


Jenna raced across the lawn. Then she was up the stairs and trying the front door, which was locked. She fumbled for her keys and knocked at the same time. She was worried something had happened inside, that whatever was upsetting Jared had rendered him unable to open the door.