Denise. A woman she hadn’t talked to in three years.
But a woman who may know something now.
Angela dialed, and she waited. On the fourth ring, the woman’s voice came through the speaker. “Hello.”
Not a question. Not a friendly greeting. A blank, unsure-why-she-had-even-picked-up sort of voice.
Still, Angela needed answers. “Hey, Denise. Long time, no talk. How have you been?”
“Living the dream.” Short. Abrupt. As was always Denise’s nature. “Do you need something?”
“Yeah, actually.” Angela fought the urge to use the same tone Denise had. “I was wondering if you’d heard from Jess.”
A moment of silence. “If I had, you’re the last person I would tell.”
Angela rolled her eyes. “Look, I know you and I haven’t always gotten along. But our kids loved each other once. We share a granddaughter. And?—”
“And your junkie son is the reason I lost them both,” Denise snapped. “We’re not friends, Angela. We never will be.”
Angela was all but grinding her teeth now. “I never asked to be. But that ain’t the point. Point is, David got a lead on her yesterday. But I haven’t heard from him since, and?—”
“Good. Now you get a taste of what it’s like.” Every word that left Denise’s mouth carried the sharpness of a blade. “The last time I heard from Jess was a week after she disappeared. She told me she was safe, so was Junie, and they were happy. They were going to build a better life. She didn’t want me in it, or you, or your son. And let’s just be honest with ourselves, Angela. For good reason. I hope he didn’t find her, because all he did was make her life a living hell. Fingers crossed one of his drug buddies got hold of him and he’s rotting away in a storm drain right now.”
Angela’s stomach tightened. She clenched her fists so hard that her fingernails left bloodied crescents in her palms. “What the hell is the matter with you? No matter how hard it’s been for me, I would never wish something like that on your slut daughter?—”
“Because you know the same thing I do. All those problems boil down to your son. How many times did he put her in the god damned hospital, Angela?” Flames licked each word. “She was a great mother. The only mistake she ever made was getting in bed with David. Don’t call me again.”
The line went dead.
Angela dropped the phone with shaking hands.
She stared at the mess on the table. She reran the phone call she’d had with David yesterday in her mind. She thought back to that look on Jess’s face when she’d lain in a hospital bed, holding newborn Junie in her arms, with a busted lip. She remembered the ice, the emptiness, in that child’s eyes when Junie had looked at her father only days before they left.
A droplet of tobacco and ash-laced liquid dripped onto her toe beneath the table. And she couldn’t take it anymore.
She took hold of that glass table as she stood. A shove toppled it onto the stained, beige carpet. Glass shattered. Sodaspilled. Ashes and tobacco fluttered through the air, falling to the ground like rain.
For a moment, she just stood there, staring at it. Deep breaths lifted and collapsed her chest and shoulders.
This was the mess she’d made. She didn’t even know where to begin cleaning it up.
