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“Mother—” he stopped in time, but the expression on his face said the rest. “I don’t need to say this, but be very careful when handling this suspect.”
“Copy that,” she replied, shooting a quick glance toward Elliot. As usual, he’d remained standing, leaning against the doorframe. “We’re waiting for some other evidence. DNA on the second unsub, phone records—”
“Gaskell’s kid isn’t in CODIS, is he?” The sheriff ended his question with a bitter chuckle.
“Of course, he isn’t. Getting his DNA has to be handled by the book,” Kay added, stating what was on everyone’s mind. “His father has a knack for getting evidence thrown out of court on minute matters of procedure. He and I have crossed paths in court in the past.” She looked at the time and a frown creased her brow. “If there isn’t anything else—”
Logan dismissed them with a hand wave, and she was quick to rush out of there. She stopped at her desk to drop her keys, then rushed to the evidence locker. Moments later, she was holding Jenna’s diary in her hands.
“Here,” Elliot said, putting a tall paper cup filled with steaming coffee in front of her. “It’s strong enough to hang your washing on it.”
She smiled for a brief moment. He always made her laugh, but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe he made Miranda laugh just as much. Or more. Her smile vanished. “Thanks.” The chair she pulled grated loudly against the floor.
Elliot shot her a quick look that seemed lit by something she couldn’t name, maybe the beginning of a smile, but her partner’s face was dead serious as he fired up his laptop and took a seat.
“What?” she asked, her voice sounding a bit annoyed.
He shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.” He looked at her the same way as before, as if he knew something amusing about her he wasn’t going to share. As if she had food stuck in her teeth or something. “I’ll pull all the photos on Gaskell’s social media with other kids who fit the description, and start identifying them for the second photo array.”
She abandoned the diary on the desk for a moment and gathered her thoughts. The last time she’d read Jenna’s notes seemed like ages ago. They still believed Gavin Sharp was the rapist, and that he’d acted alone.
Opening the diary, she turned the pages quickly to the last entry she’d read, and continued on. As she read through, she noticed tearstains, now dry, discoloring the paper.
May 2
I heard it myself, in camp, how they talk about me. Otherwise, I’d think I’m going crazy. It’s whispers, mainly, that stop when I walk by. Laughter too, giggles, snorts, comments. I wanna scream at them and scratch their faces, do something, anything, to end this silence.
Alana still comes by, but I can barely take it. She’s nice to me, and treats me like she’s always done, but I know she knows, and it’s killing me she’s not bringing it up. How long will we play this charade? Yesterday I sat with her and Nick over lunch. No one else sat with us, and Nick always draws a crowd.
I was the crowd repellent. Maybe I should sell my services.
Alana is lucky to have Nick for a boyfriend. They seem so in love, just like Tim and me. Maybe they’ll last longer that we do.
May 5
Tim and I were supposed to go to the movies, but he canceled. He said he wasn’t feeling well. I offered to go there and spend time with him watching TV, but he didn’t want me visiting.
I knew this would eventually happen. I just hoped that Tim, out of all people, would know it’s all lies. Why doesn’t he believe me? Why did he pretend to have food poisoning, instead of asking me what’s going on?
This will never end. I’m alone in this world. No one will talk about it with me. My own parents feel like a burden to me. If it weren’t for my dad and what it would do to him, I’d jump off a cliff. We got plenty of those here.
May 8
Mackenzie and Alana went to the movies on Friday with Nick and some of his friends. They didn’t ask me. I felt left behind at first, then I remembered everyone knew Tim was supposed to take me. It’s not their fault.
Then today someone called me a name after first period.
Jenna Whorell.
They twisted my name… my father’s name. I’m no longer Jenna Jerrell. I no longer know who I am. Maybe they’re all right, and I’m wrong, and losing my mind at the same time. Maybe it’s one of those senseless, endless nightmares, Matrix-style, from which there’s no awakening.
I decided to ask Mac about it, if she knew why people were saying these things about me. She got all flustered, turned red as a beet, and didn’t say anything but kids being mean and telling lies, and that I shouldn’t listen to any of it. I shouldn’t care.
Alana said the same. I didn’t see it at first, but she’s a good person. She seemed a little harsh and a bit arrogant, but she’s kind, loving, and a good friend. Doesn’t matter what day of the week it is or what time, I can call her. She doesn’t judge and doesn’t ask, but if I want to, I can talk about it with her. She’s there for me, ready to hang out like we used to do.
Before all this.
Today, after class, someone groped me on the hallway. Hard. It hurt.
