My brow was furrowed. Lately when I was aware that I was doing that, I quickly reminded myself to unfurrow because I could see the wrinkles taking up a permanent home on my face. In this case, I couldn’t maintain a relaxed expression for anything. Did I have plans with Isabel the night she disappeared? I really and truly didn’t think so. But my mind also did not feel like my own these days. Between the lack of sleep, thinking only about the baby, and admittedly drinking too much wine as my only method of relaxing, forgetting plans with a friend didn’t seem too far outside the realm of possibility. I had actually just stood up my best friend from college, Jules, a few weeks ago, thinking our plans were for Friday when they were actually for Thursday. I was in a near-constant cycle of receiving Amazon packages that I had little recollection of having ordered. But it seemed crazy that I wouldn’t remember making plans with Isabel, since it would have been our first “date,” so to speak.
“Could it have been a different Jenn D.?” I offered hopefully. “Like a Jen with one n?”
“Well, you’re the only Jennifer in her contacts,” Blaylock said. “And it was your spelling. Two n’s. And, given that your friendship is what we call ‘active,’ it seems most plausible that she was talking about you.”
“Right. Well, I don’t know. I mean, that’s really weird.” I knew I sounded like a broken record. “I don’t think I had plans with her. But in any event, I definitely didn’t see her that Thursday.”
“And you’re sure.” Sherer looked dubious.
“Yes. I am.”
I heard Clara whimper from the bedroom. Great. She’d been sleeping for roughly fifteen minutes.
“One more question,” Sherer said. “In your moms’ group meetings, did Isabel seem well? Did she seem to be managing okay?”
“Definitely,” I said, my voice sounding anything but definite. “I mean, she seemed overwhelmed at times, but, well, we all do. She was handling everything very well, I think. She seemed very organized. She seemed a little . . . intense? But like, she was on top of it. If that makes sense.” It was the best I could do to describe Isabel. Some kind of ineffable sadness clung to her, but it wasn’t like she ever forgot diapers.
Clings to her. Clings. Present tense, Jenn.
“Okay.” Sherer looked disappointed and skeptical at the same time.
Clara let out another cry.
“Well,” he said, “it sounds like you’re about to have your hands full here. Glad we could catch you during a free minute.” Yeah. I was thrilled to have spent my few free minutes of Clara’s nap being rattled by detectives, too. “By the way, what happened to your hand?” With his head, Sherer gestured toward my right hand, which had about a dozen tiny scratches covering my knuckles and fingers. I hadn’t even noticed them until he’d pointed it out.
“Um . . . I have no idea, actually. Weird. It doesn’t hurt or anything, though.”
“Well, that’s good,” Blaylock said kindly. “Might be from the baby’s fingernails. Sometimes they can be sharper than you realize!”
I silently added that to the list of things I was doing incorrectly: not keeping Clara’s nails short enough. If that’s even where the scratches were from. I truly didn’t know.
Sherer hoisted himself to his feet, Blaylock rising lightly with him. “If you think of anything,” he said, “anything that might help us reconcile this . . . misunderstanding about the drinks date, please give us a call. Either of us.” He handed me a card, and she did the same.
“You guys don’t think she did this to herself, do you? Is that why you were asking about how she seemed? Do you think she . . . hurt herself?”
“We’re investigating every possibility right now. But the evidence that we have points to a crime. Not self-harm. We’re just trying to get a sense of the state she was in at the time of her disappearance.”
I followed them to the door. “Well, do you guys have any leads? Any idea what might have happened to her?” Just as when I was at her house, I was aware that I was probably pushing too far. But I couldn’t help myself.
Blaylock cocked her head slightly. “We’re not really at liberty to discuss where we’re at with the case, Ms. Donnelly. But I’ll say this: no body is a blessing and a curse for investigators. It leaves us with hope that she’s alive, but without the clues we would have if there was a body.”
“I heard you found blood.” I swear, I used to have some kind of a filter back when I actually slept.