Her eyes were underscored with dark circles. This is what a mother looks like who has lost her daughter. The face is mine.
Emily engaged the seat belt, which stopped the pinging. She wanted to cry.
Wednesday, 4:45 P.M.
Kiplinger was as grim-faced as Emily had ever seen him and they’d been through some pretty bad cases, though nothing of the magnitude of the Martin murders. He met her in the parking lot in front of the Public Safety building in downtown Cherrystone. His anxious countenance disturbed Emily to such a degree, she didn’t turn off the ignition. The Accord idled. She pushed the button and the window slid down.
“I wanted to catch you before you came inside. Didn’t want to have this conversation on the phone,” he said. “Can I get in?”
Emily indicated all right with a quick dip of her head.
“What is it, Kip?” She called him by his nickname, rather than the more formal “Sheriff” that she used around the office. This felt exceedingly personal. “Have you heard something about Jenna?”
He shut the door and struggled to adjust the front seat to accommodate his six-foot, 200-plus-pound frame.
“No. Let’s drive away from here.”
Without speaking, she put the car in gear and it rolled from the lot to the main street.
“Let’s go to the park and talk. And no , I haven’t heard anything about Jenna. But that’s what I want to talk about.”
“You’re scaring me,” she said, her eyes switching from the road to Kip, then back again.
“Don’t be scared. We’re just going to talk and we just can’t do it at the office. Too many people listening all around.”
A spot under a willow that hung over the street like an archway. She parked and they walked over to a picnic table. A couple of preschoolers played nearby on a jungle gym, their mothers fixated on their every flip and twirl. A poodle was tethered to the slide. It barked sharply. It was a sunny morning and for a moment it seemed like any other day.
But that was all about to change. Kip lit up a smoke and faced Emily, his big brown eyes full of concern.
“Look,” he said, “I know this is awkward. But I need to know how you and Jenna were getting along.”
Emily knew where he was going and she didn’t like it one bit.
“How can you even say that to me? You know we got along. Are you trying to suggest that she ran away?”
Kip narrowed his gaze. “That’s right. There really isn’t anything to suggest that she left against her will. You know that. She wasn’t abducted.”
“We don’t know that. We don’t know anything for sure. And where is this coming from?” Emily stood up. She wanted to leave. It felt so insulting that her boss, her friend , a man that she trusted more than just about any other would sit there and utter such a cruel lie.
“I talked to David. He said that Jenna wanted to come live with him. You’d argued about it. Isn’t that right?”
The poodle got off his leash and started running through the park. One of the mothers was frantically chasing him, while calling over her shoulder for her daughter to stay put.
The distraction was only momentary, and Emily’s anger was a volcano.
“Goddamn that David! What an idiot! He thinks his backbiting comments against me are helpful in his daughter’s disappearance? What kind of a man would put his hate toward his ex-wife over the love of his own little girl?”
“David called us. He talked to Jenna late last night. She called him. She’s fine. She’s—”
It was a molten iron spike to her heart. “What? He talked to her? Why didn’t he call me? Where is she? What did she say to him?”
Kip motioned for her to be seated. “Take a breath. One question at a time, all right?”
Emily planted herself on the rough-hewn wooden bench, her heart pounding and sweat dampening her underarms. She was mad and relieved at the same time. Jenna was alive. She wasn’t Polly Klaas. Jenna Kenyon was alive!
“Please,” Emily said, “tell me
Emily engaged the seat belt, which stopped the pinging. She wanted to cry.
Wednesday, 4:45 P.M.
Kiplinger was as grim-faced as Emily had ever seen him and they’d been through some pretty bad cases, though nothing of the magnitude of the Martin murders. He met her in the parking lot in front of the Public Safety building in downtown Cherrystone. His anxious countenance disturbed Emily to such a degree, she didn’t turn off the ignition. The Accord idled. She pushed the button and the window slid down.
“I wanted to catch you before you came inside. Didn’t want to have this conversation on the phone,” he said. “Can I get in?”
Emily indicated all right with a quick dip of her head.
“What is it, Kip?” She called him by his nickname, rather than the more formal “Sheriff” that she used around the office. This felt exceedingly personal. “Have you heard something about Jenna?”
He shut the door and struggled to adjust the front seat to accommodate his six-foot, 200-plus-pound frame.
“No. Let’s drive away from here.”
Without speaking, she put the car in gear and it rolled from the lot to the main street.
“Let’s go to the park and talk. And no , I haven’t heard anything about Jenna. But that’s what I want to talk about.”
“You’re scaring me,” she said, her eyes switching from the road to Kip, then back again.
“Don’t be scared. We’re just going to talk and we just can’t do it at the office. Too many people listening all around.”
A spot under a willow that hung over the street like an archway. She parked and they walked over to a picnic table. A couple of preschoolers played nearby on a jungle gym, their mothers fixated on their every flip and twirl. A poodle was tethered to the slide. It barked sharply. It was a sunny morning and for a moment it seemed like any other day.
But that was all about to change. Kip lit up a smoke and faced Emily, his big brown eyes full of concern.
“Look,” he said, “I know this is awkward. But I need to know how you and Jenna were getting along.”
Emily knew where he was going and she didn’t like it one bit.
“How can you even say that to me? You know we got along. Are you trying to suggest that she ran away?”
Kip narrowed his gaze. “That’s right. There really isn’t anything to suggest that she left against her will. You know that. She wasn’t abducted.”
“We don’t know that. We don’t know anything for sure. And where is this coming from?” Emily stood up. She wanted to leave. It felt so insulting that her boss, her friend , a man that she trusted more than just about any other would sit there and utter such a cruel lie.
“I talked to David. He said that Jenna wanted to come live with him. You’d argued about it. Isn’t that right?”
The poodle got off his leash and started running through the park. One of the mothers was frantically chasing him, while calling over her shoulder for her daughter to stay put.
The distraction was only momentary, and Emily’s anger was a volcano.
“Goddamn that David! What an idiot! He thinks his backbiting comments against me are helpful in his daughter’s disappearance? What kind of a man would put his hate toward his ex-wife over the love of his own little girl?”
“David called us. He talked to Jenna late last night. She called him. She’s fine. She’s—”
It was a molten iron spike to her heart. “What? He talked to her? Why didn’t he call me? Where is she? What did she say to him?”
Kip motioned for her to be seated. “Take a breath. One question at a time, all right?”
Emily planted herself on the rough-hewn wooden bench, her heart pounding and sweat dampening her underarms. She was mad and relieved at the same time. Jenna was alive. She wasn’t Polly Klaas. Jenna Kenyon was alive!
“Please,” Emily said, “tell me
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