Since She Went Away (39 page)

Jared spun, and he saw Detective Poole at the end of the hallway.

“She’s in the kitchen, Romeo. Getting a glass of water. I’m using the little girl’s room if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.”

Jared went to the end of the hallway, scratching himself absently
as he went. He had decided to turn around and wait back in bed when he heard the thump from the back of the house.

He waited. Head cocked.

He heard it again. And something like a muffled cry.

“Natalie?”

He ran for the kitchen and the source of the noise. When he entered he saw Natalie’s dad, William Rose, and he held Natalie by the arm, trying to drag her through the back door and out of the house.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

W
illiam Rose stood in the doorway, his hand clamped around Natalie’s arm. Jared saw the brute force exerted through the man’s hands as he squeezed her flesh. He saw the ugly, offending lips that sneered his way.

“She’s my daughter, and we’ll be leaving now,” he said.

Jared spoke with the simplest clarity. “No.”

His heart pounded and his hands shook. He felt a strange, jangling electricity in every part of his body, something that compelled him to move forward into the kitchen, his steps cautious and catlike.

Natalie looked more resigned than scared. Tears covered her pale face, but she seemed in control of her emotions. She wasn’t pulling against her father or fighting him. She didn’t scream.

“It’s okay, Jared,” she said. “I’ll just go with him.”

“No,” Jared said again, moving closer.

“Stop right there,” her father said, holding out his free hand. It was meaty and thick, like a fat holiday ham stuck on the end of his arm. His voice sounded like ground glass. “You’re going to get hurt, boy. If you don’t step off, you’re going to get hurt real bad.”

Jared heard someone behind him. He didn’t turn, didn’t take his
eyes off Natalie and her father, but he knew Detective Poole and his mom had arrived and stood in the doorway. He heard his mother gasp, heard her breathing grow heavier as she watched the spectacle unfold.

Detective Poole spoke into a radio, requesting—
demanding
—backup. “We have a hostage situation.”

Jared kept moving forward. He stood ten feet away from them. If he lunged forward, moving as quickly as possible, he could be on the man. He was about to when Natalie’s voice stopped him.

“I’ll go,” she said again. “Just let me go. No one else will get hurt.”

“Jared,” his mom said. “Get back. Let the police handle it.”

William Rose stood in the doorway into the backyard. He gave one more tug, pulling Natalie with him. But then Natalie gripped the door. She locked eyes with Jared.

Detective Poole came up next to Jared. She had her gun drawn. The overhead lights reflected off the black metal barrel.

“She’s right. Get back.” Poole’s face looked determined, steely. A far cry from her usual grandmotherly appearance. Jared didn’t doubt that she could—and would—use the gun. “Sir,” she said to William Rose, “let the girl go.”

“She’s my daughter.”

“Let her go and get down on the floor. We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Jared, back up,” his mom said.

“Sir, get down.”

“I love you,” Natalie said.

Jared sprang forward. He led with his right hand and clamped it up and under William’s chin, grabbing hold of his thick, fleshy neck. He felt his nails sink into the soft skin, and he squeezed as hard as he could, the muscles and tendons in his fingers and forearms straining to their breaking points.

Something hit him once and then twice in the side of the body. William Rose’s fist swung wildly, smashing against Jared, blows he couldn’t feel in the heat of the moment. The fist swung a third time, connecting with the side of Jared’s head, knocking him off balance and causing bells to ring deep inside his skull.

But he saw Natalie pull free.

She made a quick dash to her left, breaking loose from her dad’s grip.

William was then free to use both of his hands on Jared, and he did. He came forward while Jared still held on to his neck, adding pressure as much as he could.

Detective Poole came closer. She held a small canister in her hand.

Pepper spray.

She ordered Jared back. But he couldn’t move. William Rose held him by his shirt, his grip like iron.

The blows from the meaty fists rained down on Jared. He swung his right leg up, kicking with as much force as he could generate. His first attempt missed, glancing off William’s shin. But when he tried again, he connected with flesh. Jared wasn’t sure where—either the enormous man’s groin or his gut. He didn’t care. It stopped the assault for a moment, allowed Jared to reassert his grip.

But then one more punch fell, landing against the side of his head. Brightly colored stars and whirligigs swirled before his eyes, and then his vision clouded. Before the picture faded, something flashed behind William Rose.

A quick, blurring movement. Something swinging once and then again. William’s eyelids grew wide and then fluttered, and he fell forward while Jared jumped back, avoiding the falling body like a lumberjack ducking a large tree.

William Rose hit the floor, his eyes closed. He groaned, reaching for the back of his head, where blood was visible.

Jared looked to the open doorway, expecting to see the police.
Instead he saw Rick Stearns, Domino55, the old guy who had come to see his mom. He stood there holding a thick branch like a baseball bat, and he posed like a triumphant hunter over his prey.

“I got him,” he said.

When William Rose stirred, as though he was about to stand up, Rick lifted the branch higher, ready to swing again.

“Hold it,” Natalie said. “Hold it.” She held her hand out, protecting him, and Rick stopped.

Detective Poole moved in. She pulled out a set of handcuffs and worked them over the man’s wrists. She snapped them closed and then straightened, the pepper spray and the gun out of sight as quickly as they had appeared.

“I hear a siren,” his mom said.

Within moments, the police were inside the house, swarming over the kitchen like uniformed ants.

•   •   •

Jared had never seen so many cops.

Some of them dragged William Rose out of the house while he continued to groan about the injury to his head. Different cops spoke to Natalie, Jared, Rick, and his mom. Paramedics hovered around as well, checking them all out. Jared told them he was fine, even though his side and his head started to hurt, dull aches from the blows William Rose had showered him with. He didn’t care. He sat close to Natalie, their bodies touching.

Detective Poole drank a glass of water. And then another. She said to Jared, “I thought he had you in the last round, but you hung in there.”

The paramedics paid a lot of attention to Rick Stearns. He sat at the kitchen table, drinking a glass of water someone brought him. Jared’s mom stood close by him while they checked his blood pressure and heart rate.

“I came by the house to say good-bye,” he said. “I was on my way out of town, and I wanted to thank you for listening to me.” He smiled up at Jared’s mom, but it looked as though it cost him some effort. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his face looked pale and ashen. “I saw that guy creeping around like he wanted to come in. I recognized him from the TV and the Web. I really did. I knew who he was, so I dialed the police. They weren’t far.”

“That’s why they got here so fast,” Jenna said.

“He worked his way in the back door,” Rick said. “Jimmied it or something. So I watched. Then I saw him coming back out with the girl. I heard the talking and the fighting. I figured he meant to hurt you or your son. I found that log out in the yard. I played some ball in high school. I knew what I was doing when I swung.”

“Do you have a history of high blood pressure?” one of the paramedics, a woman with brown hair pulled into a tight bun, asked.

“I do. I had a small stroke, a TIA they called it, two years ago.”

“His pressure’s sky-high,” she said. “We’re taking you to the hospital, Mr. Stearns.”

“No, no,” he said. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

“If you don’t go to the hospital, you’re going to miss everything,” she said.

“You should go, Rick,” his mom said, placing her hand on Rick’s arm. “You’ve done more than enough for one night. You saved us.”

He smiled but still looked ill. “Thanks, Jenna. I guess I’m kind of a hero.”

“You are,” she said. “Wait until they hear about this on the Dealey Society page.”

They brought a gurney in for Rick, and he protested a little as he climbed on board. While they wheeled him out the front door, he said to Jared’s mom, “I wanted to tell you something else.”

The paramedic shushed him.

“No,” he said. “Wait.”

“We can talk later, Rick. I’ll visit you.”

“No.”

They stopped the gurney, and he sat up a little straighter and called to Jenna.

“I told you ‘Teddy Bear’ was online,” he said. “It’s not Teddy Bear. It’s ‘Little Bear.’ Little Bear’s been talking to me. She’s the one who pushed me to think that picture really was of Celia.”

Then they wheeled him out.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

J
enna made sure Jared was okay. The social worker had finally taken Natalie away, after a painful good-bye, and he was alone in his room.

“I have to go somewhere,” she said, standing in the doorway of his room, “but I’m not going if you don’t want me to.”

He sat on his bed, his eyes staring at the floor. He looked tired and worn-out.

“You know what,” she said, “forget it. I’m not leaving you here.”

“What are you doing now?” he asked.

She didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to dig into all of it in case she was wrong. She
hoped
she was wrong.

She feared she was right. And if she was . . . “It’s just—it’s private. Personal.”

He looked up then, a strange curiosity on his face. “Like a date?”

“Not a date. I can tell you all about it another time. Why don’t you come with me?”

“No, thanks. I’m tired.”

“But I can’t leave you here—”

“They just caught the bad guy, remember? And if you try to get Grandma to babysit me, I’ll scream.”

“Are you sure you’re okay here?”

“Mom, how many times in my life are you going to ask me that question?”

She hated the jaded tone in his voice. She knew he’d been through a lot, but she didn’t want to think his soul was growing disenchanted with the world. He flopped back on the bed, closing his eyes.

“I’m okay, Mom,” he said. “Lock the door behind you and I’ll be fine. They arrested him. About fifty cops dragged the guy away. It’s over.” He rolled over and spoke into his pillow, his voice muffled. “They took Natalie away too. Remember? It’s all over.”

His words pierced her heart.

But she really needed to go.

“I’ve got my phone,” she said.

She drove to Ian’s house.

•   •   •

On the way, Jenna’s phone rang. Her mother.

She considered not answering, letting it go to voice mail. She didn’t need another lecture or scolding. But something in Jenna didn’t allow her to just ignore her mother.

What if it’s an emergency? What if she needs me?

So she answered.

“Jenna? I want to talk to you about that TV show last night.”

“I don’t have time, Mom. I know it was awful.”

“Awful’s not the word for the way you were treated.” Her mother sounded breathless. “It was . . . abysmal.”

“The way
I
was treated?” Jenna said.

“Of course. There was no excuse for it. They shouldn’t share your private business on TV like that. It’s a violation.”

“So you’re taking my side?” Jenna asked.

“Don’t I always?”

Jenna almost laughed. A million responses raced through her mind, but she held them all in. She felt real gratitude, a warmth in the center of her chest. Her mother could be counted on when the chips were really down. Jenna always knew that.

“Thanks, Mom,” she said.

“Do you want to talk about this more?”

“I can’t now,” Jenna said. “I’m on my way . . . I’m going somewhere. But really. Thanks.”

“Always, honey. Always.”

•   •   •

Ian opened the door, wearing a button-down shirt and jeans. He held a pair of reading glasses in one hand and looked surprised to see Jenna standing on the porch.

She’d driven away from his house the night before feeling sick about his admission that he’d had Celia spied on, and he looked like a different person—one without the stardust glow she’d seen encircling him ever since the day they first met.

Jenna stepped inside and looked around. She smelled coffee brewing and maybe something baking. “Is Ursula home?”

“She’s asleep. It’s only nine o’clock.”

“Have the police been here?” Jenna asked.

“Detective Poole called. She said she needs to come by later. What is this about, Jenna?”

“I need to ask Ursula something.”

Ian closed the door and stood in front of Jenna, blocking her access to the rest of the house. He was a good eight inches taller than she was. His body was still trim, his shoulders still broad and thick. “What do you need to ask Ursula?” Then a knowing look crossed his face. “Are you still on this kick about why she wanted Jared to go on
TV? Look, Jenna, I’m going to have to ask you to lay off of her. I saw the news today. They arrested that man.” He lifted his hand and rubbed his eyes. He kept his hand there, obscuring Jenna’s view of most of his face. “I’ve wanted this to end for so long, to just know something. And now that we might learn something, the real truth about it all, I’m terrified. I just don’t want to find out. I don’t want to get some final answer. What would I do then? Do you know?”

“Ursula didn’t just push Jared to do it,” Jenna said. “She went online, to message boards where they talk about missing persons cases. She went on there and she led another man on, making him think these photos he was taking in another state were photos of Celia. She encouraged this guy to think Celia was alive and living in his town.”