All the Little Pieces. Jilliane Hoffman
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to assure her that everything not only looked like it had yesterday before she had left for her sister’s, but that everything was actually OK.
‘A fiery crash on I95 kills three people on their way home from a Christian retreat and shuts down lanes on I95. We also have a breaking story that is coming to us live out of Loxahatchee. The body of a young woman has been found in a canal in western Palm Beach County …’
Faith sat up. So did every hair on her body. Her heart clenched.
‘So how was Maggie today?’ Jarrod was back, standing in front of her and blocking the television while he removed his cufflinks. ‘Do I want to ask?’
‘Red light.’
‘I figured.’
Behind him, the anchor started talking about the doomed retreat.
‘What happened?’ Jarrod asked.
‘She ran outside of the classroom; shoved a girl; wouldn’t stay in time-out – take your pick.’
He frowned and blew out a measured breath. ‘Did you call Dr Michelson?’
‘We’re seeing him Thursday.’
‘The therapy’s not working.’
‘I wouldn’t say that; it takes time.’
‘If medicine will make her better …’ he started.
‘Not till she’s seven.’
‘What is with that number, Faith?’
They’d had this conversation before. He knew her answer, but continued to ask the question, hoping she’d come around. Hoping that, as she saw Maggie fall behind academically and socially and watched her emotional outbursts grow worse, she’d ease up on the anti-drug stance. While Jarrod was well intentioned in his belief that medicating Maggie would help her be like the other kids, there was no guarantee it would. No one knew exactly what was wrong with her yet, much less how to fix her.
‘Her brain is still developing and she hasn’t even been officially diagnosed with ADD. Putting her on psychotropic drugs right now to chill her out would be to make life easier for us, not her.’
‘You took psych back in college, Faith. Medicines are always being tweaked and improved; maybe things have changed.’
‘Her issues are difficult for the people who have to work with her all day long, so you don’t have to worry about it. I didn’t complain about my day or hers; I simply told you what happened.’ She tried not to sound abrupt.
‘They’ll ask her to leave St Andrews. That one was a favor.’
‘Then we’ll leave.’
He sighed and walked into the bathroom. She had won. Again. It didn’t make her feel good.
She watched him go. Since the affair, he gave in to her on most everything, especially on matters that concerned what was best for Maggie. Other men might buy their wives expensive jewelry or a car to say they were sorry for cheating. Her present was control. And an acquiescent husband.
‘So how was your sister? What happened last night?’ Jarrod called out from the bathroom, trying on a new subject.
Her stomach flip-flopped. She’d rather debate how best to treat Maggie’s emotional issues. But before she could answer, the anchor was back on TV, struggling to contain a mega-watt smile behind a concerned frown, all set to deliver the tragic, breaking news coming out of a wetlands preserve in western Palm Beach County.
A field reporter in a yellow rain slicker stood before a cluster of flashing police cruisers. ‘Trudi, I’m at the Grassy Waters Preserve, a nature preserve and park in West Palm Beach, where a few hours ago a couple out walking one of the nature trails made a grisly discovery. The nude body of a woman was found in the water, right off this path behind me. Because of the tropical storm, the Preserve didn’t have many visitors over the weekend, and that might be a blessing, as it could have been a child who made this discovery. Police have confirmed that the body is that of eighteen-year-old Desiree Jenners of Wellington, who was reported missing Saturday night by her family. Detectives are not releasing details on the cause of death, other than to say that the body had been in the canal less than a day, and that this is, in fact, a homicide investigation.’
Faith clenched the sheets beside her.
‘Desiree was last seen leaving the Wal-Mart where she worked with a white male believed to be her ex-boyfriend, Owen Walsh. Detectives with the Palm Beach Sheriff’s Office are asking the public for help in locating Walsh, who has an extensive criminal record and an outstanding warrant out of Miami-Dade County. If you have any information about the disappearance of Desiree Jenners or the whereabouts of twenty-five-year-old Owen Walsh, please contact the Palm Beach Sheriff’s Office.’
It was like watching a horror movie: she wanted to throw the covers over her head so she wouldn’t have to see what she knew was coming next. But she had to know. She had to. She twisted the sheets around and around her wrists, so that they bound her to the bed.
The split-screen picture of a smiling Asian girl and her dog and the mug shot of a stocky, brooding redhead appeared on the screen then with the names DESIREE JENNERS and OWEN WALSH. Faith exhaled and fell back into the pillows. The emotional roller coaster had recovered from another drop. But as quickly as it had come on, the feeling of relief was palliated by the realization that she’d been checking Internet newsfeeds all day and had seen nothing about any missing girls in Florida. Nothing at all. Not even the mention of this girl Desiree, who had apparently gone missing for several days before her body was found.
Were all missing people reported missing? And did all persons who were reported missing make it on the news? She knew the answer: obviously not. Just as every crime didn’t make the news, neither did a report on every person who didn’t come home. Newscasts would be two hours long and newspapers would be a lot thicker.
If pretty, unimportant Desiree Jenners from the upscale town of Wellington didn’t make the news when she went missing, why would the disappearance of a tattooed, pierced, probable drug addict raise eyebrows? The answer was, it likely wouldn’t. Ignorantly believing no news was good news, Faith had kept wishing all day long for tomorrow to get here so that she could know for sure that the stranger from last night was fine.
The smiling anchor was back, along with the weatherman who wanted to talk about the beautiful weather pattern that was finally moving into South Florida. Faith watched as he and the anchor chatted cozily about what they would be doing outside with all this newfound sunshine. Now she understood that no news was simply that – no news. It didn’t mean the girl from last night was safe; it didn’t mean she wasn’t. What it meant was that Faith would probably never know what had happened to her.
Jarrod walked out of the bathroom at that moment and she unwrapped her sweaty hands from the tangle of sheets and turned off the TV and her bedside light.
She’d never know who the girl was, or where she came from, or why she was out there, barefoot and limping in the rain with those men.
‘So was Charity surprised?’ Jarrod asked as he turned off his light and climbed into bed.
Faith nodded somberly, her thoughts still on Desiree’s smiling face alongside that of the man who had likely murdered her and left her body to rot in the water. ‘Yes,’ she answered softly.
‘Why’d you come home last night? Everything OK?’
She could tell by the hesitant yet cheery way he’d asked the question what he was really worried about – that she’d maybe popped back without