Emily poured her coffee and given the state of the world, the effects of the wine from the night before, and what was facing her that day with the Martin investigation, she used the steaming brew to swallow three aspirins. No cream in the coffee that morning. She still needed the buzz.
A familiar horn beeped from the driveway. It was Shalimar Patterson's VW bug. The girls must have forgotten some thing. Emily wished they'd come back ten minutes sooner; they'd have seen Kiplinger's media debut.
The horn honked again and Emily went to the door. Not wanting the neighbors seeing her in her bathrobe, she stuck her head out.
"Hey Mrs. Kenyon," Shali called from the open driver's window, "tell your daughter to get her butt out here"
"What? Jenna's not home. I thought she was with you"
"Here I am. And she's not here?" She turned off the ignition and the VW coughed until the engine stopped. "Where is the weirdo?"
Emily ignored Shali and hurried down the hall. The bed was made. The desk light was on. Jenna wasn't in her bathroom. Everything there was in its place. She looked in the shower stall and it was dry. She touched a towel. Dry.
"Where is she?" It was Shali Patterson, who must have let herself inside.
Emily tried to stay calm.
"Did she say anything to you? Did she have a meeting at school this morning? Early?"
Shali Patterson stood frozen, searching her memory for something that she had probably screwed up. She never paid attention to anything.
"I don't know," she finally said. Shali slumped down into the cushioned desk chair in front of the pink computer. Its dark empty screen stared at her like an enormous blank eye.
"Think. Think, Shali. This isn't like her. You know it." Could Shali see panic starting to emerge on her face?
"I don't have a clue. She's Jenna. She probably went jogging or something." Now Shali was looking panicky.
"That's an idea," Emily said, realizing now that she was scaring the girl.
Right now, she was scared witless. It was one thing to have some kid missing from the mall, but with the Polly Klaas case had come an indelible marker in the annals of crime. Parents across America had learned that brazen lowlife creeps driven by the need to fulfill their twisted needs will go right into a little girl's bedroom to get what they want. No fear. No worries. Just a way to get what they want.
Emily was jumping to conclusions and she knew better. Facts first, feeling second. The room was in perfect order. The window was shut and latched. She looked around. Jenna's pink Juicy sweats were hung on a peg. She hadn't gone for an early morning jog. And even though all of that was apparent, she didn't let on that her heart was pounding with fear.
"This is crazy," she muttered. "This is Jenna. There must be an explanation."
Suddenly, Shali started to cry. "Right. Yes. There is. Maybe I was supposed to meet her at school." The teenager buried her face in her hands. As she did so, her elbows nudged the computer mouse. The screen sprang to life. Emily put her arms around Shali's shoulders and tried to comfort her.
"It's fine. There's nothing to worry about. We'll find her," said Emily.
"Jenna has been a little off lately."
"What do you mean?" Emily was startled.
Shali didn't answer. Her eyes were riveted to the computer screen, its ghastly blue glow casting a pall over her tear-streaked face.
"Mrs. Kenyon," she said, her voice full of fear. She pointed to the screen.
Emily's eyes followed Shali's finger. A chat window had been left open. She bent closer and read each line
Batboy88: Don't give up on me.
Jengrrclass="underline" Never.
Batboy88: I messed up.
Jengrrclass="underline" We all do sometimes.
Batboy88: Yeah. But this is big.
Jengrrclass="underline" Where RU?
Batboy88: I'll meet U.
Jengrrclass="underline" Same place?
Batboy88: Y.
Jengrrclass="underline" When can you be there?
Batboy88: Two hours.
Jengrrclass="underline" OK. R U sure U don't want me to tell mom?
Batboy88: She won't understand.
Jengrrclass="underline" K.
"Who is Batboy88?" Emily tugged at Shali's shoulder.
Shali shook her head.
"Do you know?"
"I don't know. She's never mentioned him to me. I never heard of Batboy. A chat friend? She didn't say anything about him last night."
"Last night?" Emily brightened. "You talked with Jenna?"
"Yeah, she said she'd tape the Good Morning America show so we could watch it later. I told her okay. She said she was too distracted to get up super early."
"Distracted?"
"I don't know. I'm thinking. She said you had a blowup with her dad yesterday. Does that help?"
Emily remembered. But Batboy88 surely wasn't David's handle. "Was she upset?"
Shali watched as Emily frantically moved around the room, looking for something-anything-that might indicate where Jenna had gone. Her coat was missing. Her purse was nowhere to be seen. The hamper was empty. She'd left wearing what she'd had on at dinner.
"She seemed a little off, but she didn't tell me to forget coming to pick her up this morning."
Emily processed what she was hearing and seeing. The bedroom that she had grown up in, the room that she lov ingly painted pink for her daughter when they returned to the big old house in Cherrystone, made her shudder.
She dialed David's number and he picked up. Noise like an ocean growled in the background. He was on the freeway, probably headed to the hospital.
"Are you alone?" she asked.
"Do you mean is she with me?"
"Not her. Is Jenna with you?"
David adjusted the volume of the speaker phone, his fingers too big for the tiny controls. Traffic whizzed past. He leaned closer to hear.
"For a second, I thought you said Jenna," he said.
Emily let out a breath. It seemed like the first one since she dialed her ex. It was as if she was one of those apnea patients and had forgotten how to breathe.
"I did, David. Jenna's missing."
"Missing?"
"Did you hear from her last night?"
"No "'
"Our daughter is gone"
Chapter Eleven
Wednesday, 9:15 A.M., Cherrystone, Washington
It was midmorning the day after Jenna Kenyon went missing. She hadn't been seen anywhere. Not at the school. Not Java the Hut. Not the arcade on Main Street. Nowhere. Just a day after it all started, Emily Kenyon dug into her own life and remembered how she'd barely given another mother's worry a second thought after a similar passage of time. She had worked missing persons before in Seattle and her own words echoed in her head like mantra that was meant to stall and placate.
"Sorry," she had once told a mother facing similar circumstances, "but your son's barely a missing person. He was only classified as a missing a few hours ago."
"That's why I'm here," the mother had said. "You told me to go home yesterday."
I realize that, but really, kids today, you know, they are different than we were"
The woman shook her head, sending a spatter of tears across Emily's desk. Emily pretended not to notice.
"But my son isn't like that. He's an honor student"
"He'll turn up," she said, sending the woman away.
The end of the story, Emily never forgot, was that he was a dead honor student. He'd been found two days later in weedy vacant lot less than a mile from their house. A week or so later, two boys were arrested for murder. The reason? A girl one of them liked had said she thought the honor student was "cute" Being cute got the honor student killed with a tree branch club and the broken end of a beer bottle.
The police, of course, jumped on Jenna's disappearance right away-something they likely would not have done if it had been a girl or boy outside the family of law enforcement. There had been endless phone calls. And the sheriff had called in a computer specialist from Spokane who was trying to figure out just who Batboy88 was, and if he could possibly be Nicholas Martin.