Karen Rose - Have You Seen Her?

"No, I didn't. He was a fast boy."

Anna laid her hand on Marvin's arm again, this time gently. "And she said 'no,' Marvin. That's why he dumped her for another girl."

Marvin swallowed hard. "She cried for a week over that sorry piece of shit."

Steven cleared his throat and Marvin looked up, his eyes filled with tears. The sight shook Steven soundly. "Does the sorry piece of shit have a name?" he asked carefully.

"Gerald Porter," Anna said, stroking her husband's arm as Steven scratched the name on his notepad. "She didn't want you to know because she knew you' d give him a piece of your mind."

"And I would have, too," Marvin muttered.

"And she would have been embarrassed," Anna murmured. "She wanted to keep her dignity at school. To hold her head high and pretend Gerald hadn't hurt her so badly."

"So she may have been vulnerable in that respect," Steven said thoughtfully.

"What do you mean by that?" Marvin demanded.

"Not that Samantha did anything wrong, Mr. Eggleston," Steven reminded him and Marvin's body relaxed a notch or two. "Just that if she'd been abandoned by the sorry Gerald, then maybe she would have been more readily accepting of someone new. Who would she have confided in?"

"My wife," Marvin said.

"JoLynn Murphy," Anna said at the same time. "I know you think my relationship with Samantha is that close, Marvin, but it isn't. She doesn't tell me everything."

"She loves you," Marvin said, desperately.

"Of course she does," Anna murmured, stroking his arm. "She loves you, too. But I was a sixteen-year-old girl once and I didn't tell my mother everything." She looked over at Steven. "I also understand that you found no evidence of forced entry into the house or her bedroom. Wherever she is, she started out, at least, of her own free will."

It was true, Steven thought. No forced entry and Saman-tha's perfectly formed shoe print outside her window. What could he say? "If not her own free will, at least on her own two feet. JoLynn says she hasn't talked with Samantha in over a week. Did she have any other friends?"

Anna closed her eyes, thinking. "Pamela Droggins," she said finally. "And Emily Robinson. They're all on the cheer-leading squad together." She opened her eyes. "And Wanda Pritchard. They knew each other from the drama club. I don't think I gave you Wanda's name the other day."

Steven smiled at her. "No, ma'am, you didn't. Thank you for trying so hard to remember. Now, do you happen to know the name of the girl that Gerald Porter dumped her for?"

Anna shook her head. "No, she wouldn't tell me that. All she would say is that the new girl 'put out.'" She curled her lip distastefully. "Sammie said she was a low-class slut."

Steven looked at his notepad. He had names of one new friend and a sorry piece of shit and an unnamed low-class slut. Progress. He stood up and slid his pen in his pocket. "I want to thank you for your time," he said. "I know how difficult a time this is for your family."

"Agent Thatcher, wait." Anna looked at her husband. ''Marvin, CNN called this morning when you were out with Serena. They want an interview."

Steven's heart sank. The last thing he wanted was to give their perp any more media coverage than he'd already received. If Samantha was still alive, it could force him to kill her. If she was dead, the surge of publicity could incite him to do it again.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Marvin demanded.

"I wanted to hear what Agent Thatcher had to say first," Anna answered. "I'd say we have nothing to lose by talking to them."

"Mrs. Eggleston, I don't think that's a good idea at this point."

Marvin Eggleston looked at Steven with challenge in his eyes. "If you're truly doing all you can, then you won't mind the public seeing you do it."

"That's not it at all. Our team psychologist believes whoever took Samantha may have done it to call attention to himself. If you talk to the media, he will have what he wants."

Anna Eggleston pursed her lips and Steven knew he had underestimated her influence on the couple's decisions. For all his high-volume bluster, Marvin wasn't the decision-maker. Anna was.

"I will consider your position, Agent Thatcher," was all she said.

"I need to talk with the names you've given me," Steven said evenly, controlling his frustration. "Please don't go to the media. In my experience, that would be the wrong thing to do."

"I understand, Agent Thatcher," she said quietly. "I understand."

So did Steven, all too well. He understood she was a desperate mother willing to do anything to get her child back and that even though she'd given him her full cooperation in his investigation this desperate mother needed to feel she was doing something. Something, anything was better than the helpless waiting.

He also understood he'd be seeing the Egglestons on the never-ending CNN loop before midnight. Dammit.

Saturday, October I, 6:00 P.M.

Jenna stopped at the base of the steps leading to Allison's house, her ankle throbbing from the trek up the steep driveway. Her feet didn't move, even though the foot in the sock was becoming chilled. Shivering, she admitted to herself just how much she'd been dreading this dinner.

Adam's memorial dinner. On the week before the second anniversary of his "passing." She'd never heard the Llewellyns say "dead." They said "passing." Talk about being in denial, especially Allison. But even as she dreaded it, she could never bring herself to tell Allison "no." This dinner was a family tradition, and the Llewellyns were her family.

So move, Jenna. Get up those stairs and get this dinner over with.

But still her feet didn't move. The dread of how it would be overpowered family traditions.

Jenna knew exactly how it would be-exactly as it had been the year before. Allison would set her table with her Noritake china and Waterford crystal. The table would be set for six, although they'd be only five-Allison and her husband Garrett, Charlie, Seth. And herself, sitting next to the chair Adam had always occupied. His now-empty chair. They'd sit and join hands and Garrett would say his solemn grace.

And that would be the first bad moment-having to reach across Adam's place setting to grasp Seth's hand. It was such a physical reminder that Adam was no longer there.

Like she could ever forget. But somehow reaching across his not-to-be-used butter plate made it worse. It was stupid, she knew, but true. The next bad moment would come when they all toasted him. Jenna couldn't even remember what she'd said last year. She had no idea what she'd say this year. The very thought made her nauseous.

Lifting her foot to take the first step, Jenna felt her stomach do a cartwheel so strong she swung around and sat instead. From here she could see Adam's car at the curb. The shop had done a good job finding the old-style tires on short notice, but it had cost her. She'd paid the bill, grateful she had the car to bring tonight. The last thing she wanted was to add anxiety over Adam's car to the family angst on memorial dinner night.

She heard the door open behind her and caught the jingle of bangles-Allison's daughter Charlie-along with a whiff of what was to be dinner. It would be Adam's favorite meal, just like last year. That was another part of the family tradition, preparing the deceased's favorite meal at their memorial dinner. They remembered Adam's mother with liver and onions, Adam with sloppy joes from a can. On top of being the tiniest bit eccentric, the Llewellyns had terrible taste in food.

The bangles jingled louder until eleven-year- old Charlie dropped down to sit on the step beside her. She crossed her arms, creating another jingle from the bracelets that hung from both wrists. "Hi, Aunt Jenna," she said in a dramatically melancholy voice. Charlie had called her Aunt Jenna from the time she was six years old and Jenna wasn't about to ask her to stop.