Are You Scared Yet?, page 20
Alicia shook her head. Sniffed. "I'm fine. Really. I just, I just feel so bad, even mentioning it. She and Charlie have been getting along so well. Ever since they had CJ. Jenny had made herself content. She really did love her husband."
"How long ago was the affair?"
"I... I don't really know when it started, but when she and Charlie decided to have another baby, she ended it." Alicia looked up, teary eyed but no longer crying. "That was almost three years ago."
"Did her husband know?"
Alicia shook her head. "No. Most definitely not. Jenny didn't want to hurt Charlie any more than she already had. It... it was with a married man. They... they were both married. Jenny said a confession to cleanse her own soul wasn't worth the pain she would cause others. I think the guy stayed with his wife, too."
"And do you know who it was?" Delilah asked softly.
"No." Alicia pressed the cookie cutter between the palms of her hands. "Jenny never said and I never asked. She knew it was wrong. I don't even think she really wanted to do it. I think he kind of..."—she glanced up—"you know, made a fuss over her. Flattered her. Told her how beautiful she was. How smart she was. She and Charlie had been married long enough that I don't think he was saying those things anymore."
"You said she was the one who ended it."
Alicia nodded. "I think it only lasted a couple months. Two, maybe three. She was a wreck the whole time."
Delilah was trying to think clearly, logically, trying not to be shocked. This apple pie, all-American mom had been cheating on her husband and her husband hadn't known? None of her friends or neighbors or family had known? Did that really happen in small towns like Stephen Kill? She almost laughed aloud, realizing what she was thinking. She and Snowden had been having an affair for almost a year and no one suspected, as far as she knew. Except maybe his mother, and they couldn't be sure with her. As Snowden had said, sometimes she was just a good guesser.
"And did he—the man—take the breakup okay?" Delilah asked, forcing her thoughts away from her own personal problems and back on Jenny's.
"I don't know. I suppose. He didn't really have a choice, I guess. How big a fuss could he make?"
"And you're sure you have no idea who it was?" Delilah asked, giving her time to think. "Or maybe at least where she met him?"
"No. I'm sorry."
"It's okay." Delilah rose from the little chair. "Thank you so much for sharing this with me. I know it had to be hard."
"I promised her I would never tell." Alicia's gaze shined with welling tears again. "She only told me because I kept asking her over and over again what was wrong. I said I would never tell."
"You did the right thing," Delilah assured her.
"Do you think..." Alicia studied her hands for a moment and then looked up at her. "Do you think this man could have something to do with Jenny's disappearance? Even after all this time?"
"I don't know," Delilah said, walking toward the door. "But I'm going to find out."
* * *
The Daughter sat in the dark on the hard dirt floor, her back against the little door. It was quiet on the other side. Had been since she got there. Last night when she'd come, Jenny had still been whimpering. Too exhausted to call out anymore, but whimpering. Mewing. Kind of like a dying kitten.
The Daughter would have felt sorry for a dying kitten. She did not feel sorry for Jenny Grove.
So now it was done. Over with. Nothing to do but the clean up. Last night, hearing her on the other side of the door had made The Daughter feel good. Powerful. Vindicated. But tonight, tonight it was so quiet. The air so cool and still down here that she felt nothing, really. No happiness. No relief. Not even any remorse. Just nothing.
It wasn't supposed to be like that, was it?
The Daughter exhaled, straightening her legs out in front of her. She had a flashlight beside her, but she didn't turn it on. Didn't need it. She was used to the insects, the occasional rodent that scurried by. She was used to the dark. She had grown up in the dark.
She directed her thoughts to something more pleasant. She wondered what Delilah was doing right now. Was she lying in the dark, asleep, or was she awake? Was she staring at the ceiling, wondering where Jenny was? Worrying?
The Daughter didn't want Delilah to worry. It really was a conundrum she'd created here, she had realized over the last few days. She was doing this for Delilah. Championing her, in a way. But The Daughter's deeds made life harder for Delilah and that was unfortunate.
The Daughter didn't want Delilah to feel bad.
Maybe she should write her another note. Actually send this one. Anonymous, of course. Just tell her how proud she was of her. How proud all of Stephen Kill was of their own, home-grown heroine, defender of retarded people and dogs.
The Daughter rose in the darkness and slid the ancient iron bolts back, one at the top of the door, one at the bottom and swung it open. Jenny was lying there right in front of her. Now The Daughter did pick up the flashlight, but she waited until she was inside the tiny room before she clicked it on. One had to be careful. It was late at night. No one was around, but you could never be too safe. She didn't want any busybody neighbors seeing light, nosing around. Those Bread Ladies, they were pretty nosy.
Pushing the door shut with her knee, The Daughter moved the beam of light from the toes of her own shoes to the lifeless form at her feet. Jenny had been a pretty girl, but she was ugly now. Ugly in death.
The Daughter set the flashlight on the ground and leaned over to pull off Jenny's sandals, then her shorts, making a pile. As she methodically went about her task, she composed her letter to Delilah in her head.
Dear Delilah, she would start, leaving out any endearments. That was too dangerous. Might seem weird to Delilah, not knowing who it came from. Not knowing how much The Daughter loved her.
I am writing this letter to tell you... The Daughter thought, pulling off Jenny's panties, just how proud we are of you here in Stephen Kill.
And before The Daughter knew it, Jenny was ready to go, and the letter was set in her head. Now all she had to do was write it down and mail it.
The mailing part was going to be hard, The Daughter knew that. But she had to do it. She had to do it for her Delilah.
Chapter 16
"So what did you find out about Jenny Grove's affair?" Snowden asked from behind his desk.
"Nothing. I found out absolutely nothing." Delilah rubbed the back of her neck, knowing she sounded irritable. Not meaning to be. She was just so darned frustrated. Frustrated with this case. With her sister. With Snowden. With herself, most of all.
Delilah was aggravated that she hadn't been able to make any progress in her investigation. That she was letting the relationship between her and Snowden fizzle out right in front of her eyes. That she wasn't able to be there for Callie, the way she should. Never had been. And what was going on inside her head that made her unable or unwilling to buy an over-the-counter pregnancy test? Did she really think this problem was going to go away?
Delilah forced herself to refocus. Snowden was waiting. "No one knows anything about this affair, except the other teacher, apparently."
"You spoke to the husband?"
She shook her head. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to."
"Detective," he said sharply. "It's been—"
"A week. I know that. And with every passing day, it's less likely we'll find her alive. Don't you think I know that, Snowden!"
His gaze darted to the open door. Someone hurried by in the blur of a gray uniform.
She groaned and dropped into the chair in front of his desk. "I'm sorry. I apologize," she said, louder. "That was out of line, Chief. I was hoping I wouldn't have to ask Mr. Grove if he was aware his wife had an affair with a married man."
Snowden watched her over the rim of his reading glasses.
"Guess it has to be done now, though." She rose to go, then turned back. "But what if Mrs. McGovern is mistaken? What if... I don't know... There's a problem between her and Jenny? What if she made it up to make Jenny look bad?"
"Do you think she made it up?"
Delilah walked out of Snowden's office without answering him.
* * *
The red light flashed on Marty's phone. An incoming call. She was tempted to ignore it. Damn, but she wanted a cigarette. She hadn't had one in over three months and she still wanted one as badly as she had the first day she quit.
The call was probably Joe, the station's manager, again. He called at least twice a day. Once, threatening to fire her for her latest infraction: late or missed morning meeting, treating the employees with disrespect. He had a whole litany of complaints. His other call was always to ask her out. Well, to ask if she would screw him.
Dates were tricky with two kids and another on the way. Apparently, pregnant wives could be demanding, and they didn't put out.
Marty didn't like screwing married men. Not ones with pregnant wives, at least. And Joe was a pig. She'd had sex with him a couple of times and it had always been all about him. About getting his rocks off. The man couldn't even spell foreplay.
The phone continued to flash. In a second, her voice mail would pick up. No secretary. Not even an assistant.
Maybe she needed to ask Joe for an assistant. Maybe she'd trade him ass for one.
The voice mail didn't pick up. The phone system in the dinky station wasn't working. Again.
She lifted the handset to ear. "Marty Kyle."
"Miss Kyle?"
"Yes?" What, was this guy some kind of idiot?
"Hey, this is Patterson Loredo with News Night."
Patterson Loredo? Marty sat up in her chair. The senior editor from the news program. The guy she'd sent the interview tape to last week. "Yes, hi, I'm sorry." She laughed. Light. Sexy. "Got a million people talking to me at once. Nice to speak with you Mr. Loredo, what can I do for you?"
"I just got out of a meeting. We had a look at the piece on the school for pregnant girls you sent us, and I have to tell you, we were impressed." He chuckled. "I was impressed, Miss Kyle."
"Great. Well, thank you." She tried to sound humble, yet eager at the same time. "Maria's Place really is incredible to see. What the sisters, what the community," she added, "is doing for these teenagers is phenomenal."
"We completely agree with you. What we were wondering, is if you'd be able to expand the interview to a full twelve-minute piece. We'd like to air it."
She slid to the end of her rickety chair, imagining a corner office with windows, a leather executive's chair and cherry desk. Two assistants. "Does that mean I have the job?" she blurted.
He chuckled. "It means we'd like to see some more of your work. Often, Miss Kyle, we find that while reporters from small stations such as your"—he paused and she heard him shuffle papers—"WKKB are able to pull off five-minute news stories, they don't translate well to the longer medium."
She didn't know if she should be flattered or insulted.
"So, are you interested?" Loredo asked on the other end of the line.
It only took Marty an instant to snap out of it... snap back into it. "Yes, I am, Mr. Loredo. Should we make arrangements for a personal interview? I'd love to meet you. Meet your staff."
He cleared his throat. "Actually, I think the way News Nightly would like to proceed from here, Miss Kyle, is that we'd like to see the expanded piece. Then we'll talk. Does that sound good to you?"
It didn't sound good to Marty. In fact, the idea sucked. "Perfect," she said into the receiver, smiling because she knew a smile could be conveyed over the phone.
"How about two weeks? Do you think you can manage that? Once we see it, we might be ready to sit down at the bargaining table. We may have an open spot in late August and we've discussed airing the story then, should we think it appropriate."
Marty wanted to argue. She wanted to suggest that if she joined their staff now, she could use their crews to finish the piece. Use their equipment which had to far outshine the crap at WKKB, but she could tell by Loredo's tone of voice that the conversation was over.
She forced the smile again. "I'll get to work and be in touch soon. Thank you, Mr. Loredo. You have a great day."
Marty hung up the phone, rocking back in her chair. Great, she thought. Now I've got to go back and talk to those damned nuns again.
* * *
"Was I aware my wife what?" Charlie Grove demanded hotly.
Delilah glanced in the direction of the family room where Jenny's mother had taken the children so the nice detective could talk to daddy. The TV was pretty loud. Cartoons. But not loud enough to muffle Charlie's voice in the cheery apple motif kitchen.
Delilah had known this conversation wasn't going to be easy, but she hadn't known it was going to be this hard. She felt so bad that she wanted to crawl under the kitchen table with the scattered Cheerios that crunched under her shoes.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Grove. I apologize for even having to bring up this subject, but we have to cover all our bases. Your wife's been missing a week and no one has heard from her. I don't need to tell you that the situation is grave."
He rubbed his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of one hand the way men did. "You said she was having an affair?" he asked, much quieter.
The cartoons in the other room got louder. Dora the Explorer. Callie sometimes watched it on the Cartoon Network. Delilah could hear the character was saying something in Spanish about a lost duck.
She returned her attention to Charlie. She could hear the emotion in his voice and she had to fight not to allow his pain to seep into her.
"With who?" He sniffed and wiped under his nose with the back of his hand. "God, I thought that was all behind us." He looked up at her. "Who was she with? How do you know?"
Delilah studied his face carefully. "You mean you did know she had had an affair?"
"What are we talking about, here? Just lay it straight out, Detective. What do you know that you're not telling me? Did Jenny run off with some other guy? Did she leave us?" he demanded. "Me and the kids?"
"No. I... I don't know, Mr. Grove. I don't think so. It was just that in talking with people, I learned that your wife may have had an affair."
"You mean a while ago?"
"Were you aware your wife was seeing someone else?"
"Not now, she wasn't. Everything was fine. We were fine. That was years ago."
"How many years ago?" Delilah questioned.
"I don't know." He grabbed a dishrag that hung on the kitchen faucet and began to drag it along the clean counter. "Before CJ was born. We were going through a rough patch. But she got counseling. We decided to have another baby and everything was fine." He kept his head down. "I know she wasn't seeing him again. I would have known."
"Mr. Grove," Delilah said gently, "we have no reason to believe your wife was having an affair with anyone when she disappeared. The information I received was about Jenny's past."
He sniffed and looked up. "So she wasn't cheating on me again?"
"Not to our knowledge, and I believe we've done a pretty thorough investigation."
He rubbed under his nose again with the hand that held the dishrag. "I would have known," he repeated, more to himself than to Delilah. "I would have known."
"You said your wife had counseling. Was this marriage counseling?"
"Not really. I mean, I would have gone. Jenny said it was about her, not about me or us. It was about old stuff. Things she'd never gotten over, from her past, you know? She said she loved me."
"I'm sure she did, Mr. Grove." Delilah paused before continuing. "Can you tell me who counseled her?"
"Why do you want to know? I don't want old stuff dragged up. Jenny wouldn't want that."
"I'm just trying to reconstruct the last few weeks. Last few months. Perhaps she was seeing her counselor again. It might be helpful to talk to him or her. Not about specifics. That's not allowed, Mr. Grove. But at this point, anything, anyone who's had contact with Jenny in the last few weeks might be able to help us find her."
Delilah felt guilty for using those last words. For offering a glimmer of hope when she knew very well hope was getting dimmer by the hour.
"It was that guy in town with the office in the old insurance place. Dr. Trubant. He was real nice. Nice to both of us. Real supportive about us making our marriage work." Charlie returned the dishrag to its place on the sink. "Is that all you wanted to talk to me about, Detective? 'Cause if it was,"—he hooked his thumb in the direction of the family room—"I wanna get back to my kids."
* * *
"This was fun, Callie. Lunch together. We should do this again." And Delilah meant what she said. Although she hadn't been up to eating much after her conversation with Charlie Grove, the last forty-five minutes of talk of lip gloss and American Idol had been a needed respite. "I'm glad you could join us, too, Izzy." Delilah glanced at the two teens sitting across from her in the diner booth, then at her wristwatch. "But it looks like I have to get back to work, and so do you, Missy," she directed at Callie. "Can I give you a ride somewhere, Izzy?"
"No thanks, Detective Swift. I'm going to walk down to the library. Meet some of the other girls. There's this reader's book club thing." She shrugged one shoulder. "It's kind of dumb, but it's one of the activities in town we can always get Sister Agatha to bring us in for."
"I see," Delilah said. "What about Sister Julie? Does she drive you places, too?"
"Well, Sister Agatha likes to keep a tight rein on the van keys." Izzy sucked up the last of the Coke in the bottom of her plastic glass. "And Sister Julie is really busy a lot now. I guess since they added that national hotline, a lot of people want to talk to her. You know, about the program."
Callie slid out of the booth, dragging her bag along with her. "Um... I thought I'd go with Izzy, if you don't care, Aunt Delilah. To the, you know, book club thing."
Delilah smiled with surprise. Despite Callie's protests to the contrary, maybe her first counseling session had been worthwhile. The teenager certainly hadn't expressed any desire to do anything so productive as to join a readers' club before.
