Was it possible Ted Brehl was the last person to see Jan Harwood? Not counting David Harwood, of course. Duckworth was becoming increasingly convinced that David Harwood was the last person to see his wife alive.
And he was getting a gut feeling no one else ever would.
Arlene Harwood tried to keep busy. Her husband, who could sometimes get underfoot and be—let’s be honest here—a real pain in the ass when he started telling her how to do things, was entertaining Ethan. That was good. Don had gone into the garage and found an old croquet set, and with Ethan’s help had set it up in the backyard. But Ethan quickly adopted a playing style that had little to do with hitting the wooden balls through the hoops. Just whacking the balls in any old direction kept him occupied, and Don quickly abandoned plans to teach his grandson the game’s finer points.
Arlene, meanwhile, went from one activity to another. She did some dishes, she ironed, she paid some bills online, she tried to read the paper, she flipped through the TV channels. The one thing she did not do, at least not for more than a minute or so, was use the phone. She didn’t want to tie up the line. David might call. Maybe the police.
Maybe Jan.
When she wasn’t feeling desperately worried for her daughter-in-law, she was thinking about her son and grandson. What if something had happened to Jan? How would David deal with it? How would Ethan deal with losing a mother?
She didn’t want to let her mind go there. She wanted to think positively, but she’d always been a realist. Might as well prepare yourself for the worst, and if things turned out better than you’d expected, well, that was a bonus.
She racked her brain trying to figure out where Jan might have gone, what might have happened to her. The thing was, she’d always had a feeling that she’d never shared with her son or her husband. She certainly couldn’t tell Don—he’d never be able to keep his mouth shut about how she felt. But there was something about Jan that wasn’t quite right.
Arlene Harwood couldn’t say what it was. It might have had something to do with how Jan handled men, and didn’t handle women. David had fallen for her hard soon after he met her while doing a story for the Standard on people looking for jobs at the city employment office. Jan was new to town, looking for work, and David tried to coax some quotes out of her. But Jan was reserved, didn’t want her name in the paper or to be part of the piece.
Something about her touched David. She seemed, he once disclosed to his mother, “adrift.”
Although she wouldn’t be interviewed for the piece, she did disclose, after some persistent questioning from David, that she lived alone, didn’t have anyone in her life, and had no family here.
David had once said if it hadn’t been so corny, he would have asked her how a woman as beautiful as Jan could be so alone. Arlene Harwood had thought it a question worth asking.
When David finished interviewing other, more willing subjects at the employment office, he spotted Jan outside waiting for a bus. He offered her a lift, and after some hesitation, she accepted. She had rented a room over a pool hall.
“That’s really—I mean, it’s none of my business,” David said, “but that’s not really a good place for you to live.”
“It’s all I can afford at the moment,” she said. “When I get a job, I’ll find something better.”
“What are you paying?” he asked.
Jan’s eyes widened. “You’re right, it’s none of your business.”
“Tell me,” he said.
She did.
David went back to the paper to write his story. After he’d filed it, he made a call to a woman he knew in Classified. “You got any rentals going in tomorrow I can get a jump on? I know someone looking for a place. Let me give you the price range.”
She emailed him copies of four listings. On the way home, he parked across from the pool hall, went upstairs and down a hallway, knocking on doors until he found Jan.
He handed her the list he’d printed out. “These won’t be in the paper until tomorrow. At least three of these are in way better parts of town than this, and they’re the same as what you’re paying now.” He tried to peer past her into her room. “Doesn’t look like you’d have that much to pack.”
“Who the hell are you?” Jan asked him.
That weekend, he helped her move.
Someone new to rescue, his mother thought, after Samantha Henry made it clear she could manage on her own, thank you very much.
It was a short courtship. (Arlene grimaced to herself; there was a word nobody used anymore. “Courtship.” Just how old was she, anyway?) But damn it all, things did move fast.
They were married in a matter of months.
“Why wait?” David said to his mother. “If she’s the right one, she’s the right one. I’ve been spinning my wheels long enough. I’ve already got a house.” It was true. He’d bought it a couple of years ago, having been persuaded by the business editor that only saps paid rent.
“Jan wants to rush into this, too?”
“And remind me how long you knew Dad before you got married?”
“Got you there,” Don said, walking in on the conversation. They’d gone out for five months before eloping.
The thing was, Don had loved Jan from the first time David brought her home. Jan ingratiated herself effortlessly with David’s father, but did she really make the same effort with his mother? Maybe Arlene was imagining it, but it struck her that Jan had a natural way with men. She got them to give her what she wanted without their even realizing it.
No great mystery there, Arlene thought. Jan was unquestionably desirable. She had the whole package. Not a supermodel’s face, maybe, but the full lips and eyes, the pert nose, went together well. Her long legs looked great in everything from a tight skirt to tattered jeans. And she had a way of communicating her sex appeal without it being tarty. No batting of the eyelashes, no baby girl voices. It was just something she gave off, like a scent.
When David first started bringing her around, Don made an absolute fool of himself, always offering to take her coat, freshen her drink, get her another sofa cushion. Arlene finally spoke to him. “For Christ’s sake,” she said one evening after David and Jan went home. “What’s wrong with you? What’s next? You gonna give her a back rub?”
Don, awakened to the fact that he’d gone overboard, managed to tone it down from that point on, but never stopped being entranced by his son’s girlfriend and future wife.
Arlene, however, was immune to that kind of charm. Not that Jan had ever been anything but cordial with her. (“Cordial”? There I go again, Arlene thought.) But Arlene felt the girl knew that what worked with men wouldn’t pass muster with her.
What kind of girl, Arlene wondered, cuts off all ties with her family? Sure, not everyone came from a home as loving as the one she made, but come on. Jan didn’t even let her parents know when Ethan was born. How bad did parents have to be not to let them know they had a grandson?
Jan must have had her reasons, Arlene told herself. But it just didn’t seem right.
The doorbell rang.
Arlene was only steps away from the door at the time, going through the front hall closet, wondering how many years it had been since some of the coats at the ends had been worn, whether it was time to donate some of them to Goodwill. Startled by the sound, she clutched her chest and shouted, “My God!”
She closed the closet so she could see the front door. Through the glass she spotted an overweight man in a suit and loosened tie.
“You scared me half to death,” she said as she opened the door.
“I’m sorry. I’m Detective Duckworth, Promise Falls police. You’re Mrs. Harwood?”
“That’s right.”
“David’s mother?”
“Yes.”
“I’m heading the investigation into your daughter-in-law’s disappearance. I’d like to ask you some questions.”
“Oh, of course, please come in.” As Duckworth crossed the threshold she as
ked, “You haven’t found her, have you?”
“No, ma’am,” he said. “Is your son home?”
“No, but Ethan’s here. He’s out back playing with his grandfather. Did you want me to get him in here?”
“No, that’s okay. I met Ethan yesterday. He’s a handsome young fellow.”
Normally, Arlene Harwood might have swelled with pride. But she was too anxious about why the detective was here. She pointed to the living room couch, then realized several of Ethan’s action figures were scattered there.
“That’s okay,” Duckworth said, moving them out of the way. “My son’s nearly twenty and still collects these things.” He sat down and waited for Arlene to do the same.
“Should I get my husband?” she asked.
“We can talk for a moment, and then maybe I’ll have a chat with him. This is the first I’ve had a chance to talk to you.”
“If there’s anything I can do—”
“Oh, I know. Your son … this must be a terrible time for him right now.”
“It’s just dreadful for all of us. Ethan, he doesn’t really understand how serious it is. He just thinks his mother has gone away for a little while.”
Duckworth found an opening. “You have some reason to think that’s not the case?”
“Oh, I mean, what I meant was … I mean, we are hoping that’s all this is. But it’s so unlike Jan to just take off. She’s never done anything like that before, or if she has, David’s certainly never mentioned it.” She bit her lip, thinking maybe that came out wrong. “I mean, not that he keeps things from me. He counts on us a lot for support. We—my husband and I—look after Ethan all the time, now that we’re retired. He doesn’t go to day care, and he’ll be starting school next month.”
“Of course,” Barry said. “Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary with Jan lately? A change in mood?”
“Oh my, yes. David’s been saying the last couple of weeks Jan has seemed very down, depressed. It’s been a tremendous worry to him. Did he tell you Jan talked about jumping off a bridge?”
“He did.”
“I can’t imagine what might have triggered it.”
“So you observed this yourself, this change in Jan’s mood?”
Arlene stopped to consider. “Well, she’s not here all that much. Dropping off Ethan in the morning, picking him up at night. We usually only have time to say a few words to each other.”
“Keeping in mind that you’ve only seen her for short periods, would you agree that Jan’s been troubled lately?”
“Well,” she hesitated, “I think Jan always puts on her best face when she’s around her in-laws. I think if she was feeling bad, she might try not to show it.”
“So you can’t point to any one incident, say, where Jan acted depressed?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“That’s okay. I’m just asking all kinds of questions here, and some of them, I have to admit, may not make a lot of sense, you know?”
“Of course.”
“Do you know whether Jan and Leanne Kowalski ever talked about taking a trip together? Were they close friends?”
“Leanne? Isn’t that the girl who works in the office with Jan?”
“That’s right.”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t know. I don’t really know who Jan socializes with. You’d do better asking David about that.”
“That’s a good idea,” he said. “Now, I’m just trying to nail down Jan’s movements in the day before she went missing.”
“Why is that important?” Arlene Harwood asked.
“It just gives us a better idea of a person’s habits and their behavior.”
“Okay.”
“Do you know what Jan was doing on the Friday before she went to the Five Mountains park?”
“I don’t really know. I mean—oh wait, she and David went for a drive.”
“Oh yes?” Duckworth said, making notes. “A drive where?”
“I’m trying to remember. But David asked if we would look after Ethan longer that day, because he had to go someplace and Jan was going to go along with him.”
“Do you know where they were going? What they were going to do?”
“I’m not sure. You really should ask David. Do you want me to get him on the phone? He’s on his way back from Rochester right now.”
“No, that’s okay. I just wondered if you had any idea.”
“I think it had something to do with work. He’s a reporter for the Standard, but you probably already know that.”
“I do, yes. So you think he was going somewhere on a story. An interview?”
“I really can’t say. I know he’s been working on that new prison that’s supposed to come to town. You know about that?”
“I’ve heard about it,” Duckworth said. “Isn’t it unusual for your son to take his wife along with him when he’s working?”
Arlene hesitated and shrugged. “I don’t really know.”
“So, he asked you to babysit Ethan until they got back from this trip?”
“That’s right.”
“When was that?”
“In the evening. Before it got dark. David came by to pick up Ethan.”
“David and Jan,” Duckworth said.
“Actually, just David,” Arlene said.
“Jan waited in the car?”
“No, David came by on his own.”
Duckworth nodded, like there was nothing odd about this, but he had a strange tingling going on in the back of his neck. “So why would that be? Wouldn’t it make sense for the two of them to drop by here on the way home and pick up Ethan?”
“She wasn’t feeling well,” Arlene said.
“I’m sorry?”
“David told me. He said Jan wasn’t feeling well during the drive back, so he dropped her at their place, and then he came over here for Ethan.”
“I see,” Duckworth said. “What was wrong with her?”
“A headache or something, I think David said.”
“Okay. But I guess she felt well enough in the morning to go to Five Mountains. How did she seem to you then?”
“I didn’t see her in the morning. They went straight to the park,” Arlene said. Outside, the sound of a car door closing. Arlene got up and went to the window. “It’s David. He should be able to help you with these questions.”
“I’m sure he will,” Duckworth said, getting to his feet.
TWENTY-THREE
When I pulled up in front of my parents’ house, I spotted an unmarked police car at the curb.
My pulse quickened as I parked behind it. I was out of the car in a second and took the steps up to the porch two at a time. As I was swinging open the door, I found Barry Duckworth standing there.
“Mr. Harwood,” he said.
“Has something happened?” I asked. I’d only run a few steps but felt out of breath. It was an adrenaline rush.
“No, no, nothing new,” he said. Mom was standing just behind him, her eyes desperate and sorrowful. “I was driving by and decided to stop. Your mother and I were having a chat.”
“Have you found out anything? Did they search the park again? Did anything turn up on the surveillance cameras? Has—”
Duckworth held up his hand. “If there are any developments, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”
I felt deflated. But the truth was, I was the one with news.
“I need to talk to you,” I said to him.
“Sure.”
“But I want to see Ethan first,” I said. I could hear his laughter coming from the backyard. I started to move past the detective but he reached up and held my arm.
“I think it would be good if we could talk right now,” he said.
My eyes met his. Even though he’d said there was nothing new, I could tell he was holding something back. If he’d had good news, he would have just told me.
“Something has happened,” I whispered to him. “Don’t tell me you’ve found her.” r />
“No, sir, we have not,” he said. “But it would help if you’d come down to the station with me.”
I had that feeling you get from too much caffeine. Like electrical impulses were racing through my body. I wondered if he could feel them in my arm.
Trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice, I said, “Okay.”
He let go of my arm and went out the door. Mom came up and hugged me. She must not have known what to say, because she said nothing.
“It’s okay, Mom,” I said. “I’m sorry. I was going to take Ethan off your hands—”
“Don’t be stupid,” she said. “Just go with him.” She let go and I could see tears welling up in her eyes. “David, I’m sorry, I think I may have said something—”
“What?”
“That detective, he looked at me funny when I said that Jan—”
“Mr. Harwood!”
I looked over my shoulder. Detective Duckworth had the passenger door of his unmarked car open, waiting for me.
“I have to go,” I said. I gave my mother a hug and ran down to Duckworth’s car, hopping into the front seat. He was going to close the door for me, but I grabbed the handle and slammed it shut myself.
When he got into the driver’s seat, I said, “I could just follow you in. Then you wouldn’t have to bring me back.”
“Don’t worry about that,” he said, putting the car into drive, looking back and then hitting the gas. “This will give us more time to talk.”
“Why are we going to the station?”
Duckworth gave his head a small shake, his way of ignoring my question. “So you came back from Rochester, what, this morning?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And you went out there why again?”
“I was looking for Jan’s parents.”
“The ones she hasn’t spoken to in years.”
“Yes.”
“Did you find them?”
I hesitated. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. But let me ask you something first.”
He glanced over. “Shoot.”