Games We Play (Thistle Cove 2)

“Well, I don’t know about that,” she laughs. “This is Kenley Keene and Ozzy—”

“Drake,” I finish for her. I reach out and shake the woman’s soft hands. “Nice to meet you.”

A moment later we’re settled in the small living room where a plate of store-bought cookies and a pitcher of lemonade sits on the coffee table. I grab three and eat them slowly as I study the room.

Like the outside, the interior is well maintained, but seemingly unchanged. There’s a distinct 1980s vibe to the house, other than a flat-screened TV hanging on the wall. Two large built-in bookshelves flank the fireplace. Framed photographs mix in with other knickknacks, several of Jacqueline at various stages in her life. The first start when she’s just a baby and continue through high school. That’s when they abruptly stop.

“Mrs. Cates,” Kenley starts, “I think Shannon told you that we’re doing a special issue of the yearbook for the centennial. As the editor, I’ve been looking for distinct moments in the school’s past. We’d like to honor Jacqueline in the book.”

“As nice as that sounds, I’m not convinced these are wounds the town is ready to open, especially not on the heels of that other girl going missing.”

Kenley looks at me, and I tug at my cap. “Mrs. Cates, that girl, Rose Waller? We knew her. She and Kenley were very good friends for a long time. Once we found out that another girl at Thistle Cove had suffered a similar fate, neither of us liked the fact that Jacqueline’s life and death had gone unmentioned. We don’t want thirty years to go by and no one remember Rose.”

“We really just want you to tell us about Jacqueline,” Kenley says. “Tell us who she was.”

Mrs. Cates hands tremble and for a second, I think she’s going to ask us to leave, but she doesn’t. She lifts the lemonade pitcher and pours four glasses.

“Well,” she says, gesturing to the drinks. “Tell me what you want to know.”

Kenley leans forward, picks up a glass and replies, “Everything. We want to know everything.”

19

Kenley

Jaqueline Cates wasn’t an extraordinary girl, at least not where the world could see, but after spending the afternoon talking to her mother, I get the feeling she was one of those people that carried a spark.

Much like Rose.

Unlike Rose, she wasn’t a popular girl, had zero interests in cheerleading or sports. She did have a fondness for politics and wanted to be a lawyer when she grew up.

“A public defender,” her mother says, “she could argue for hours. Drove her father crazy.”

When she hit high school, she changed her look, going from standard teen to an edgier look. “Piercings, a tattoo—that one almost gave her dad his first heart attack—she loved music and went to as many concerts in the city as she could afford.” She takes a bite of cookie. “She had a part-time job down at Kendrick’s, which allowed her a little more freedom.”

“Do you have any idea what happened to her?” I blurt. Ozzy shoots me a look. “Sorry, I guess with everything going on lately I can’t help but be curious.”

“It’s a question I think about every day. What happened on that short walk from the library home? Did she get in a car? Did someone pick her up? It’s like she vanished into thin air, which in a town where everyone knows everything about one another, seems unreal.”

Except everyone doesn’t know everything about one another in Thistle Cove. That’s the disturbing fact I keep running into over and over.

“And they never had any suspects?” Ozzy asks.

She shakes her head. “Not really. They paraded in half the town, but it felt more like it was for show than anything else. I know they talked to her friends and the kids on the debate team. Her co-workers at Kendrick’s, but no one knew anything.”

“And there was no physical evidence?”

She shakes her head. “She was in the water too long. Although since it was so cold, her body was very well preserved. She had a bruise on her cheek—kind of a specific shape and size. Chief McMichael told me at the time he thought that may lead to something, but it never did.”

She stands and crosses the room, entering the dining room across the hall. The three of us wait, until she returns with a small cardboard box. “I collected a few things you may want to use for the yearbook. It’s just photos and a few ticket stubs to concerts she went to. She went to a debate championship—she and her partner won. I put some pictures of that in there, too.”

Shannon stands. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Cates.”

“It’s nice to have someone ask about Jackie. People feel uncomfortable bringing her up. I understand that, but she was my little girl and pretending like she never existed is hard.”

“She seemed like a really interesting person,” Ozzy says.

“She was. Once she got out of Thistle Cove, I knew she was going to do great things, she just never got the chance.”