Have You Seen Her? (24 page)

Everybody moved but Sandra who remained seated. As the room cleared, her face clouded and Steven felt his gut twist. Twist more, anyway. She had something to say she didn’t want the rest of the team to know. Yet. Steven watched her look anywhere but at him. What Sandra had to say would be personal, then.

His mind went to Brad, God help him, and for the first time he admitted that whatever was troubling his son could be more than emotional. It could be illegal.

But not like this. He looked up to the bulletin board where he’d pinned the photo of Lorraine Rush’s body. He refused to believe whatever was troubling Brad could be anything like this.

When it was just the two of them, Sandra picked up her notebook and moved to the seat right next to him. “You want it sugar-coated or straight?” she asked.

“Just spit it out, Sandra,” he said, his voice coming out harsher than he intended.

“Okay. When I looked at all the games that were played in the week before the disappearance and crossed it with people who had access to both victims one possibility popped up.”

Steven swallowed. Brad didn’t know either girl. Did he? Steven realized he hadn’t even asked himself the question.
But why would he?
he asked himself defensively. “Who?”

Sandra sighed. “Father Mike Leone.”

Shocked, Steven could only stare. “No.”

Sandra shrugged. “I’m sorry, Steven, but it lines up. Both girls were part of his parish. And there’d been some kind of church league tag football game the weekend before. I asked Anna Eggleston if Samantha was involved and she said that Samantha didn’t normally go to those games, but that last weekend she did because it was a special game. Father Leone was there.”

The twisting in Steven’s gut became full nausea. “He was
there.
He didn’t
play a good game.
”

Sandra looked as ripped up as he felt. “It was one of those special games, Steven. Old versus young. The priests and church faculty played the church’s teen team. Father Leone played. And I understand from a few other teens who were there that he did play a pretty good game.”

Steven looked away, not sure how to manage this latest stress. “Does Harry know you were looking at Father Leone?”

Sandra shook her head. “No. I thought you should know first. I asked everyone so that no one would know what I was really asking. If he’s innocent—”

“You could ruin one of the best men that ever lived,” Steven finished bitterly.

Sandra laid her hand on his arm. “I know, Steven,” she said quietly. “But if he’s guilty...”

“He’s not,” Steven insisted. “I know this man. He’s simply not capable.”

“But you’ll let me investigate, won’t you?” Sandra asked, just as quietly.

Steven fixed his eyes on the photos of Lorraine Rush. Before, beautiful and vibrant. After... Someone had done this to her, had robbed a vibrant girl of her very life. Violently. It wasn’t Mike. Steven knew it deep down. But he also knew he had a responsibility to Lorraine and Samantha and their families. And crazy as it sounded, Mike would agree.

“Yes,” he whispered, then cleared his throat. “Don’t do anything without coming to me first.”

Wednesday, October 5, 5:30
P.M.

Helen set the casserole dish on the table. Tuna casserole. One of the boys’ favorites and one of the easiest things to make. She hated it worse than liver, but two outa three wasn’t bad.

“Boys!” she yelled up the stairs. “Dinner!”

Footsteps pounded on the stairs and Matt appeared and plopped in his chair.

“I’m starving, Aunt Bea.”

“You’re always starving, Matthew. That’s hardly earth-shattering news.” She turned toward the open doorway. “Brad! Nicholas!”

“I’m here,” Nicky said and slid into his chair. “Y’ don’t hafta yell.”

“Sorry,” Helen said, appropriately chastised. “Where’s Brad?”

“Probably sulking in his room,” Matt said cheerfully. “He’s grounded for life, after all.”

Helen frowned at him. “Your brother is not grounded for life. It’s only for a week.”

“Might as well be for life,” Matt said, shoveling casserole on his plate.

“And you would know,” Helen said dryly. “You, who have experienced the joys and woes of grounding for many weeks of your own life.”

“Yep,” Matt said, just as cheerfully, digging into his plate with a fork. “But not this week. I’m golden,” he added, his mouth full.

“Put down the fork and go tell your brother it’s time for dinner.”

“Golly gee whiz, Aunt Bea,” Matt whined and Helen lost control of her mouth and smiled.

“Go,” she said, popping him on the head with her oven mitt. “Now.”

Muttering, Matt complied and Helen turned to Nicky. “Well, how was your day, Nicky?”

Nicky shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

“Anything special happen?”

“No, ma’am.” He looked up and brightened and Helen felt a tug at her heart. “This weekend Jenna said she’d take me and Cindy Lou to the park to teach her to sit.”

“I remember,” said Helen and told herself to call Jenna and remind her of her promise. There was no way she’d let Nicky become disappointed if she could help it. “Where are your brothers?” she demanded, craning her neck to see around the corner.

She heard footsteps on the stairs, heavier this time, and Matt reappeared, his freckles standing out against his pale face. “I found this on Brad’s bed,” he said, quietly holding out a note.

Helen scanned it and felt her heart stop. “Oh, Lord God. Your brother’s run away.”

S
EVENTEEN

Wednesday, October 5, 6:00
P.M.

I
T GOT DARK TOO DAMN EARLY
. W
ELL
,
TECHNICALLY
it got dark the same time as it had the night before, Steven thought, but the night before they hadn’t mobilized twenty cops, forty-odd volunteers, and a canine cadaver unit to search for what in all likelihood was a very dead teenaged girl.

“There’s two hundred acres of wooded land inside the circle you drew,” said the local sheriff, a big burly man named Rogers. Rogers tapped the map they’d laid out across the hood of Steven’s car. “It’ll take us three days to cover that much ground, even with the dogs. You sure you boys can’t narrow the field a little bit?”

“We could call the killer and say pretty please, can you give us better directions,” Harry said sarcastically. Sheriff Rogers glared and opened his mouth to say something uplifting, no doubt.

“Harry,” Steven cautioned.

Harry made a face. “I’m sorry. I interviewed sex perverts all day and I’m no company for decent people.”

Sheriff Rogers relaxed. “Who said I was decent people?” he asked kindly. “It would help if you boys could get a chopper in here. You could see the clearings, assumin’ that’s where he’s put her.”

“That’s where he put the last one, and where he probably intended to put this one last Friday,” Harry said. “Except he was interrupted by the old man’s dog.” He looked over at Kent who was staring at the map. “How is the dog, by the way?”

Kent looked up and pushed his glasses up his nose. “He’ll pull through.”

“You’ve been keeping tabs on the dog?” Steven asked, surprised.

“He’s been keeping tabs on the lady vet that sewed up the dog,” Harry corrected with a smirk and Steven watched Kent’s cheeks redden. “Cute little thing, she is,” Harry added with a sly wink and Kent’s cheeks went even darker.

“Back off, Harry,” Steven said mildly, although the tone of his voice belied the turbulence inside him. Harry’s careless comment sent his brain flying to the mental picture of Jenna he couldn’t erase from his mind. Was she okay? He’d planned to call her this evening, to see if he could stop by and discuss the night before . . . Heat spread through him despite the chill in the air. Just as heat had spread through him each time he thought her name. This was ridiculous.

So why couldn’t he make it stop and concentrate? On his job? On Brad? On anything other than the kaleidoscope of emotions she made him feel? From undeniable want to a guilt that gnawed at him every time he remembered the hurt look on her face when he walked away last night.

He had to fix that. Make her bewildered hurt look go away. His mind flashed to the belligerent contempt he’d seen in Brad’s eyes this morning. He had to make that go away, too.

Dammit, he had to fix
something
in his life.

He forced himself to focus on the map spread out on the hood of his car. Rogers was indeed correct. There was no way they’d search the entire area on foot in anything less than three days. “I’ll call in a chopper at first light tomorrow morning,” Steven said. “For now”—he pointed at the lower left corner of the circle on the map—“we keep searching here. Everybody’s got flashlights. I’ve got a spotlight in my trunk, so when we find her, we can light up the area. We can at least keep the animals away until morning.” He set his jaw. “If she’s here, we need to find her.”

“Before every wild animal in the forest does,” Kent said. Harry grimaced. “I—”

Steven’s cell phone jangled and he pulled it from his pocket and checked the caller ID, motioning Harry toward the woods at the same time. “Check on those volunteers, Harry. I don’t want them trampling anything important.” He put the phone to his ear. “Hey, Helen. This really isn’t a good time. Can I call you back later?”

“No, Steven,” Helen said, her voice shaking. “This is important.”

Dread had him standing straighter. “What? What’s happened?”

“Brad’s run away.”

Steven sagged back against his car. “How do you know?” “He left a note.”

Like mother, like son. Another goddamned note. “Did he say where he was going?”

“No, no he didn’t.” Her voice wobbled and he knew she was crying. “Steven, I need you here.”

He looked around and made a decision. Harry was ready for an increase in responsibility. And even if Harry wasn’t, he’d have to become ready pretty damn quick. “I’ll be home in half an hour.”

Wednesday, October 5, 6:30
P.M.

Wednesday was meat loaf night at the Llewellyn house. Allison’s meat loaf recipe had belonged to her mother. The dear, departed Mrs. Llewellyn must have been a god-awful cook too.

Jenna looked down at the generous helping of meat loaf topped with ketchup and felt her stomach roll. It looked a little too much like . . . dead possum roadkill. She swallowed hard and heard a snicker to her right.

Charlie nudged her. “Possum pie,” she whispered with a grin.

Jenna swallowed again and frowned. “How do you know about that?”

“I heard about it from kids at school.” She lifted a shoulder philosophically. “You know how gossip is. It was all the talk in the cafeteria.” She grinned again, wider this time, the light from the chandelier glinting off her braces. “Especially since today the cafeteria ladies made goulash.”

Jenna grimaced and pushed her plate away. “That’s it. I’m done.”

Allison frowned from across the table. “You haven’t even started yet.”

“I’m sorry, Allison. I just don’t have a lot of appetite today.” Jenna nudged Charlie less than gently when the little girl snickered again. “Shut up, Charlie,” she gritted through clenched teeth.

Allison looked from Jenna to her daughter suspiciously, then set into her own meat loaf with fervor. “I suppose that’s understandable, under the circumstances.”

Jenna looked at Charlie who shook her head and shrugged. “What circumstances?”

“Well, Saturday, of course,” said Allison impatiently, then true horror flooded her face when Jenna made no show of understanding. “You’ve forgotten about
Adam
? Jenna, how could you?”

Saturday. October eighth. The day of Adam’s “passing.” Jenna closed her eyes as guilt layered over all the other emotions churning in her gut. How could she, indeed? But somehow between the revulsion at the gift left swinging from her ceiling, frustration at all the antics of Rudy and his friends and Blackman’s unwillingness to stop them, combined with a healthy shot of sexual frustration over Steven . . . she’d forgotten.

She heard the sound of Allison’s fork clattering against her plate.

“I think it’s just disgraceful,” Allison said, anger tightening her voice.

“Allie,” Seth started, but Allison cut him off. “Disgraceful, Dad,” Allison repeated with disgust. “Letting that man . . . that policeman she’s only known a week— not even a week! Coming to her apartment, staying until midnight last night. She’s let him make her forget about the man she was supposed to marry! I call that disgraceful.”

Jenna’s eyes flew open and immediately fixed on Seth’s face. He looked very guilty.

“Mrs. Kasselbaum,” Jenna said darkly. She could see the chain of events clearly now and it pissed her off. Temper flared and she was just too damn tired to clamp a lid on it.

“You know what a gossip she is,” Seth said weakly.

“I know what a gossip
you
are,” Jenna shot back, anger making her tongue loose, not caring when he flinched and hurt filled his eyes. She turned to Allison, fury making her body tremble. “And, Allison, even though it is absolutely none of your business, I made the man dinner last night.”

Allison’s lips thinned in disapproval. “At midnight?” Jenna lurched to her feet, her palms narrowly missing her plate of meat loaf as she slapped them down on the table. “Yes, at midnight. As you so noted, he is a policeman. He got called to a case, so I made him dinner later so he wouldn’t go hungry. Although if we’d screwed like weasels on Mrs. Kasselbaum’s welcome mat it wouldn’t have been any of your damn business.”

Allison’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Charlie’s eyes widened. Garrett looked like he’d swallowed his fork.

“Jenna,” Seth started and Jenna held up her hand to stop him.

“I’m not finished. You say you want me to get on with my life. But the first chance I get, I’m
disgraceful
,” she sputtered, then pointed her finger at Seth. “I am
tired
of your gossip and meddling.” She turned her finger to Allison. “I am
tired
of your bossiness.” She felt a sob building in her chest and fruitlessly battled it.
“And I am tired of your damn Wednesday

meat loaf.”
Leaving the table in stunned silence, she rushed out, managing to grab her purse as she barreled through the front door and down the steep driveway. She held off the tears until she got to Adam’s car.

No,
not
Adam’s car. Adam was dead. D-e-a-d, dead. Two years ago this Saturday. This was not Adam’s car.
This is my car.
“My car,” she gritted aloud.
My car. My life.
Her hands shook as she tried to put the key in the lock and the sob broke free. She leaned her forehead against the car and felt the waves of emotion crash in her head and the tears come. And come. And come.

My life. My totally out of control life.

A hand gently pulled the key from her fist and turned her body into his. Jenna felt Seth’s arms wrap around her shoulders and his head pushing her cheek into his shoulder. And she cried.

Seth held her as she cried, rocking her, stroking her hair as her own father would have done. She cried over Adam, over the boys at school, over Steven. She even cried over the stupid meat loaf. And when her tears were spent, Seth held her a little longer, still stroking her hair.

“I understand you’ve had a rather taxing week, young lady,” he said gently and she nodded, her cheek still pressed to his shoulder.

“My life sucks,” she moaned and he chuckled. For some reason that made her feel better.

“You know, you’ve made me work pretty hard this week,” he said and she pulled back to look at him. He pulled a cotton hankie from his pocket and she took it, mopping her wet face.

She sniffled. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, you told me about the tires and your ankle. But the rest I had to find out from Mrs. Kasselbaum and—” He closed his mouth. “And others,” he added.

Her eyes narrowed. “What others?” she asked suspiciously.

His white brows lifted. “I don’t disclose my sources,” he said loftily, then he sobered. “Why didn’t you tell us about the problems at school, Jenna?” he asked. “The vandalism to your classroom. The water in your gas tank. The possum. We’re your family. Why didn’t you tell us?”

Jenna dropped her eyes. “I didn’t want to worry you.” “So instead you keep it all in until you explode all over Allison’s meat loaf?” he asked, a smile in his voice, and her lips quivered.

“That was bad of me,” she admitted. “You
are
a meddling gossip and Allison
is
bossy, but I shouldn’t have let it come out like that. I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Accepted.” Then he grinned. “But I didn’t hear an apology about the meat loaf.”

“I couldn’t pull that one off with a straight face,” Jenna returned, her own grin wobbly.

“Come on back, Jenna. You have a family that’s worried about you.” He lifted her chin so that she looked up the driveway to where Allison, Garrett, and Charlie stood watching intently.

So she climbed the driveway to the people that cared about her. They were her family. Despite their eccentricities and terrible food.

“I’m sorry, Jenna,” said Allison and Jenna felt tears well again. Allison had been crying, too.

“I’m sorry I called you bossy,” Jenna said and hugged Allison tightly.

“What about the meat loaf?” Charlie asked and Jenna hiccuped a laugh.

“Shut up, Charlotte Anne,” Jenna and Allison said in unison, then they both laughed and Jenna felt true peace for the first time in days.

And then, of course, the phone rang. Garrett answered it, his expression puzzled. “Yes, she’s here.” He cupped the phone. “Jenna, it’s for you. It’s a Father Leone and he says it’s urgent.”

The peace fizzled abruptly as she listened to Father Mike ask her to meet him at his parish.

Wednesday, October 5, 7:30
P.M.

“Where are we going?” Jenna asked after she’d strapped herself into Father Mike’s car.

“Out past Shotwell Crossing,” he answered, turning out of the rectory driveway. “We should just beat Steven and Brad there.”

“So let me get this straight,” Jenna said, holding up her hand. “Brad runs away.” She ticked off one finger. “So Helen calls Steven who, thankfully, agrees to leave his job and come home.” She ticked off another finger.

“So you’ve noticed Steven’s propensity to work,” Father Mike said, looking straight ahead.

“I’ve noticed Steven hides from his kids. I don’t know why.” Jenna studied Father Mike’s profile. His perfect poker face. “And you’re not going to tell me, are you? Even though you know.”

“No.”