Since She Went Away (42 page)

“Wait,” Ian said. He looked pale. Terrified. “Jenna, you understand. These are . . . they might be my last moments with my daughter for a long time. Can you wait?”

“Please, Jenna,” Ursula said, her eyes pleading. “Mom wouldn’t want you to do this. You were such good friends. She’d want you to protect me.”

Jenna didn’t bend. “She’d want you to tell the truth. But you put her . . .” Jenna made a vague gesture toward the pool. Toward the secret floating below them. “You did everything to hide it. To cover it up. To try to get away with it. You told Reena about the affairs, didn’t you?”

Ursula didn’t answer.

Jenna and Jared walked out of the pool area and back toward her car. When they were inside, she started the engine and cranked the heat.

She took a deep breath and dialed the police.

After she made her report, insisting that the cop on the other line find and tell Detective Poole right away, she turned to her son.

“It wasn’t your fault, Mom,” he said. “Celia was dead and never even left the house that night. No one hurt her at the park.”

“Yeah.” Her own voice sounded distant. “I think they call that cold comfort. I still called her. She was leaving the house for me when Ursula . . .”

“You can’t think that way,” he said.

But Jenna wasn’t sure.

Two police cars arrived in the alley. The officers jumped out and headed onto the Embrys’ property.

“We should get going,” Jenna said. “You’re cold.”

“Sure.”

“You can change at home and get warmed up. The police know where to find us. They know that very well. And we’ll be talking to them for a while, but maybe we can visit Natalie later,” she said, trying to give them some hope. “We’ll find out where she is, and we’ll go by. What do you say?”

“Sounds great.”

She took one look back at the property where Celia rested and drove them home.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Once again I’d like to thank the many booksellers, librarians, bloggers, and reviewers who help spread the word about my books. With special thanks to Jennifer Plane Bailey and the staff of the Barnes & Noble store in Bowling Green, Kentucky, and Lisa Rice and the staff of the Warren County Public Library.

Thanks to my friends and family, especially Tomitha Blair, J. T. Ellison, John Hagaman, David Lenoir, Andrew McMichael, Mary Ellen Miller, Jane Olmsted, and Craig and Tracy Williams. Big thanks to Samantha McAllister for all her help and assistance. And thanks to Kara Thurmond for designing and maintaining my Web site.

Special thanks to Loren Jaggers and the publicity team at NAL/Berkley for getting the word out about my books.

Once again my amazing agent, Laney Katz Becker, guided me with her wisdom, high standards, and determination.

And, of course, my amazing editor, Danielle Perez, showed the way with her commitment, insights, and patience. And special thanks to everyone at NAL/Berkley.

And thanks to Molly McCaffrey for everything
else.

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

1. At the beginning of the novel, Celia has been missing for several months. In what ways are the various characters—Jenna, Jared, Ian, and Ursula—responding to and coping with the stress of her disappearance?

2. Jenna and Jared seem to have a solid mother/son relationship. Do you think this is because Jenna is a single parent? Do you understand why she sometimes worries about the job she is doing and the lack of a male role model in Jared’s life?

3. Since Jared is only fifteen and inexperienced with girls, does it make sense that he would fall so hard and so fast for Tabitha (Natalie)? Are you surprised that he would go to such great lengths to find out what happened to her, including breaking into her house? Do you believe that Tabitha (Natalie) would fall for Jared so quickly as
well?

4. Jenna and Celia have been close friends since childhood, but they have drifted apart in the years before Celia’s disappearance. Is it unusual for close friends to drift apart like this as their adult lives change? Do you think Jenna and Celia drifted apart because Celia had moved into a higher social class? Is it possible for friends to grow close again at some point? Draw from examples in your own life, if possible.

5. On the night Celia disappeared, Jenna was late to meet her because she discovered alcohol in Jared’s room and wanted to talk to him about it. Do you think Jenna handled this the right way? Do you blame her for putting her son ahead of her friend? Why do you think Jenna feels as guilty as she does about Celia’s disappearance? Should she feel so guilty?

6. Jenna and Ian have a complicated relationship, starting all the way back in high school when the two of them almost started dating. Do you think they have unresolved feelings for each other? Are you surprised that Celia “stole” Ian away from Jenna? Would Jenna have harbored anger toward Celia? Have there been times in your life when a friend betrayed you? Were you able to forgive?

7. What role does Sally play in Jenna’s life? Is she the kind of friend who tells someone the truth even when they don’t want to hear it? Do we all need a friend like that? Do you have a friend like that, or are you that friend?

8. What did you think of Reena Huffman? What part do the news media have to play when someone like Celia disappears? Do they sometimes overstep their bounds in an effort to get a story? How can the media affect people’s perceptions of a crime? Do you think Jenna made the right decision by not going on Reena’s show?

9. William Rose is obviously not a role model as a father, so why do you think he kept Natalie with him as he traveled around? Do you think in some way he really cared for his daughter?

10. Were you surprised to find out that Ian had Celia followed in the wake of her infidelity? Do you understand why he felt he had to take extreme measures to try to keep his family together? Do you agree or disagree with what he did? What would you do if you found out your spouse was having you followed?

11. Were you surprised to find out that Ursula was responsible for Celia’s death? Can you understand at all the pressures that might have contributed to her violent outburst against her mother? How difficult would it be as a teenager to watch your parents’ marriage almost fall apart as the result of infidelity?

12. How difficult will it be for Jenna and Jared to put their lives together and move on after the end of the novel? Do you think they will maintain a relationship with
Natalie?

Don’t miss another exciting novel of suspense from David Bell.

SOMEBODY I USED TO KNOW

Now available from New American Library

CHAPTER ONE

W
hen I saw the girl in the grocery store, my heart stopped.

I had turned the corner into the dairy aisle, carrying a basket with just a few items in it. Cereal. Crackers. Spaghetti. Beer. I lived alone, worked a lot, and rarely cooked. I was checking a price when I almost ran into the girl. I stopped immediately and studied her in profile, her hand raised to her mouth while she examined products through the glass door of the dairy cooler.

I felt like I was seeing a ghost.

She looked exactly like my college girlfriend, Marissa Minor, the only woman I had ever really loved. Probably the only woman who had ever really loved me.

The girl didn’t see me right away. She continued to examine the items in front of her, slowly walking away from me, her hand still raised to her mouth as though that helped her think.

The gesture really got me. It made my insides go cold. Not with fear, but with shock. With feelings I hadn’t felt in years.

Marissa used to do the very same thing. When she was thinking, she’d place her right hand on her lips, sometimes pinching them between her index finger and thumb. Marissa’s lips were always bright
red—without lipstick—and full, and that gesture, that lip-twisting, thoughtful gesture, drove me wild with love and, yes, desire.

I was eighteen when I met her. Desire was always close at hand.

But it wasn’t just the gesture that this girl shared with Marissa. Her hair, thick and deep red, matched Marissa’s exactly, even the length of it, just below her shoulders. From the side, the girl’s nose came to a slightly rounded point, one that Marissa always said looked like a lightbulb. Both the girl and Marissa had brown eyes, and long, slender bodies. This girl, the one in the store, looked shorter than Marissa by a few inches, and she wore tight jeans and knee-high boots, clothes that weren’t in style when I attended college.

But other than that, they could have been twins. They really could have been.

And as the girl walked away, making a left at the end of the aisle and leaving my sight, I remained rooted to my spot, my silly little grocery basket dangling from my right hand. The lights above were bright, painfully so, and other shoppers came past with their carts and their kids and their lives. It was close to dinnertime, and people had places to go. Families to feed.

But I stood there.

I felt tears rising in my eyes, my vision starting to blur.

She looked so much like Marissa. So much.

But Marissa had been dead for just over twenty years.

•   •   •

Finally, I snapped out of it.

I reached up with my free hand and wiped my eyes.

No one seemed to notice that I was having an emotional moment in the middle of the grocery store, in the milk aisle. I probably looked like a normal guy. Forty years old. Clean-cut. Professional. I had my problems. I was divorced. My ex-wife didn’t let me see her son as much
as I wanted. He wasn’t my kid, but we’d grown close. My job as a caseworker for the housing authority in Eastland, Ohio, didn’t pay enough, but who ever felt like they were paid enough? I enjoyed the work. I enjoyed helping people. I tended to pour myself into it.

Outside of work, I spent my life like a lot of single people do. I socialized with friends, even though most of them were married and had kids. I played in a recreational basketball league. When I had the time and motivation, I volunteered at our local animal shelter, walking dogs or making fund-raising calls.

Like I said, I probably looked like a regular guy.

I decided I needed to talk to that girl. I started down the aisle, my basket swinging at my side. I figured she had to be a relative of Marissa’s, right? A cousin or something. I turned the corner in the direction she had gone, deftly dodging between my fellow shoppers.

I looked up the next aisle and didn’t see her. Then I went to another one, the last aisle in the store. At first, I didn’t see the girl there either. It was crowded, and a family of four—two parents, two kids—blocked my view. One of the kids was screaming because her mom wouldn’t buy her the ice cream she wanted.

But then they moved, and I saw the girl. She was halfway down the aisle, opening the door of another cooler, but not removing anything. She lifted her hand to her mouth. That gesture. She looked just like Marissa.

I felt the tears again and fought back against them.

I walked up to her. She looked so small. And young. I guessed she was about twenty, probably a student at my alma mater, Eastland University. I felt ridiculous, but I had to ask who she was. I wiped at my eyes again and cleared my throat.

“Excuse me,” I said.

She whipped her head around in my direction. She seemed startled that anyone had spoken to her.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

But I really wasn’t. In that moment, I saw her head-on instead of in profile, and the resemblance to Marissa became more pronounced. Her forehead was a little wider than Marissa’s. And her chin came to a sharper point. But the spray of freckles, the shape of her eyes . . . all of it was Marissa.

If I believed in ghosts . . .

Ghosts from a happy time in my past . . .

“I’m sorry,” I said again.

The girl just looked at me. Her eyes moved across my body, sizing me up. Taking me in. She looked guarded.

“I was wondering if you were related to the Minor family,” I said. “They lived in Hanfort, Ohio. It’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen them. I know it’s a long shot—”

The girl had been holding a box of Cheerios and a carton of organic milk. When I said the name “Minor,” she let them both go, and they fell to the floor at my feet. The milk was in a cardboard carton, but the force of it hitting the floor caused it to split open. Milk leaked onto the cruddy linoleum, flowing toward my shoes.

“Careful,” I said, reaching out for her.

But the girl took off. She made an abrupt turn and started walking away briskly, her bootheels clacking against the linoleum. She didn’t look back. And when she reached the far end of the aisle, the end closest to the cash registers, she started running.

I took one step in that direction, lifting my hand. I wanted to say something. Apologize. Call her back. Let her know that I hadn’t meant any harm.

But she was gone.

Just like Marissa, she was gone.

Then the family of four, the one I had seen earlier with the child screaming for ice cream, came abreast of me. The child appeared to
have calmed down. She clutched a carton of Rocky Road, the tears on her face drying. The father pointed to the mess on the floor, the leaking milk and the cereal.