The Neighbor - Lisa Gardner [70]
He could hear Ree again, in the interrogation room, her singsong voice, reciting: “‘Please don’t do this. I won’t tell. You can believe me. I’ll never tell. I love you. I still love you….’”
His hands trembled lightly on the steering wheel. He caught the tremor, forced himself to steady. Now was not the time. Had to keep thinking. Had to keep moving. He had the media in front of him, the police behind him, and his daughter to consider. Push it away, lock it up tight. That’s what he did best.
Keep thinking, keep moving. Figure out what happened to Sandy, quick, before the police took his daughter from him.
Then, in the next second, he thought of what his daughter had said again, all of what she’d said, and it came to him, his first glimmer of hope. Grieving husband, he reminded himself. Grieving husband.
He headed for Sandy’s middle school.
| CHAPTER SEVENTEEN |
When Jason was fourteen years old, he had heard his parents talking late one night, when they thought he was asleep.
“Have you noticed his eyes?” his mother was saying. “Whether he’s playing with Janie, or saying thank you for a bowl of ice cream, or asking permission to turn on the TV, his eyes are exactly the same. Flat. Empty. Like he doesn’t feel a thing. I’m worried, Stephen. I mean, I’m really, really worried about him.”
You should be, Jason had thought at the time. You really, really should be.
Now, adult Jason pulled into the middle school parking lot, found a space, and killed the engine. Ree stirred in the back, blinking awake with that internal monitor kids had that registered vehicles stopping. She’d need a moment or two, so he flipped down the Volvo’s sun visor and contemplated his expression in the vanity mirror.
His sunken eyes were rimmed with dark shadows. He’d forgotten about shaving, and his thick beard was rapidly overtaking his gaunt face. He looked weary, worn around the edges. But he also looked rough, perhaps even dangerous, the kind of man who might have a hot temper and secretly beat his wife and kid.
He tried various positions with his lips, screwing up his features this way and that. Grieving husband, he reminded himself. Grieving husband.
His mother was right—he could rearrange his entire face, and his eyes still gave him away. He looked like a man with a thousand-yard stare.
He’d keep his head down, he decided. Bowed with grief. It was the best he could do.
In the back, Ree finally yawned, stretching out her arms and legs. She looked at him, then looked at Mr. Smith, then at the scene outside her window.
She recognized the building and perked up immediately. “Is Mommy here? Are we picking up Mommy?”
He winced, choosing his words carefully. “Do you remember how the police sent out officers to help us find Mr. Smith?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, we’re going to do the same thing for Mommy. The police are sending officers to look for her, but also, our friends want to help. So we’re going to talk to Mommy’s friends and see if they can help us find her. Just like we did with Mr. Smith.”
“Mr. Smith came home,” Ree said.
“Exactly. And with any luck, Mommy will come home, too.”
Ree nodded, seemed content. It was the first real discussion they’d had regarding Sandy’s disappearance, and it went about as well as he could expect. Of course, children cycled in and out of strong emotions. At the moment, Ree was still exhausted from the morning’s ordeal and eager to be pacified. Later, when the grief and rage returned …
He got out of the car, unloaded Ree. They left Mr. Smith behind with the same Rabid Cat signs posted on the front and back windows. Jason didn’t trust middle school students any more than the gangs of Roxbury.
They hit the front admin office, Jason with his head bowed, Ree clutching Lil’ Bunny.
“Mr. Jones!” Adele, the school secretary, greeted them immediately. The rush of sympathy in her voice, the pitying look she bestowed