They Just Don't Know You

Chapter 17

Jade's POV

Sunday, September 29

This time, unlike after the hit-and-run with Mr Hughes, I'm a good witness. I remember everything. 

I remember taking the paper clip from Ellie's hand, and picking up a second one from the floor. "Paper clips?" Officer Elliot asks. He went directly into questioning mode as soon as Karl told him we'd left Fright Farm with Ellie. We moved into the kitchen, and Nana made hot chocolate for everyone. I grasp the still-warm mug gratefully as I explain what happened before Karl joined Perrie and me.

"Yeah. They were pulled apart, you know, so they were almost straight. People do that kind of thing sometimes, like a nervous habit?" I do, anyway. I've never met a paper clip I didn't immediately twist out of its pre-existing shape. 

I remember Ellie being sort of goofy and funny and rambling at first. "She made a that's what she said joke," I tell Officer Elliott.

His face is a total blank. "That's what she said?"

"Yeah, you know, from The Office? The TV show?" I tilt my head at him, waiting for it to click, but his brow stays knit in confusion. How can anyone in his 20's not get that reference. "It's something the lead character used to say as, like, a punch line after a double entendre. Like when someone says something is hard, they could be referring to a difficult situation, or, you know. A penis."

Karl spits out his hot chocolate as Officer Elliott turns bright red and goes wide eyed. "For heaven's sake, Jade," Nana snaps. "That's hardly pertinent to the conversation at hand."

"I thought it was," I say, shrugging. It's never not interesting observing Officer Elliott's reactions to things he doesn't expect. 

He clears his throat and avoids my eyes. "And what happened after the...joke?"

"She drank some water. I asked her what she was doing in the basement. Then she started seeming more upset." I remember Ellie's words like she'd just spoken them five minutes ago. I shouldn't have. I have to show them. It's not right, it's not okay. What happened? Wouldn't you like to know?

My stomach squeezes. Those are the sort of things that seem like nonsense when a drunk girl is babbling at a party, but ominous when she's missing. Ellie is missing. I don't think that's really sunk in yet. I keep thinking Officer Elliott is going to get a call any second telling him she met up with friends after she got home. "She got a little teary when she said all that," I say. "I asked her if it was about the pep rally, but she said no."

"Did you press her?" Officer Elliot asks.

"No. She said she wanted to go home. I offered to get Alex and she said they'd broken up. And that he wasn't there anyway. So Perrie offered her a ride home, and she said okay. That's when I left to get Karl. Driving Ellie home was..." I pause, weighing what to say next. "It wasn't planned. At all. It just happened."

Officer Elliot's forehead creases in a quizzical frown. "What do you mean?"

Good question. What do I mean? My brain has been whirring since Officer Elliott said Ellie was missing. We don't know what it means yet, but I do know this: if she doesn't show up soon people will expect the worst, and they'll start pointing fingers at the most obvious suspect. Which would be the person who saw her last.

It's the cliché moment of every Dateline special: the friend or neighbour or colleague who says, She's always been such a nice girl, nobody would have believed she could be capable of this. I can't think everything through clearly yet, but I do know this: there was no master plan to get Ellie alone. I never got the sense that Perrie was doing anything except trying to help her out. "I mean, it was just random chance that Perrie ended up giving Ellie a lift," I say. "We didn't even know she was in the office at first."

"Okay," Officer Elliott says, his expression neutral. "So you left to find Karl, and Perrie was alone with Ellie for...how long?"

I look at Karl who shrugs. "Five minutes, maybe?" I say. 

"Was Ellie's demeanour any different when you returned?"

"No. She was still sad."

"But you said she wasn't sad earlier. That she was joking."

"She was joking and then she was sad," I remind him. 

"Right. So, describe the walk to the car for me please. Both of you."

It goes on like that for another ten minutes until we finally painstakingly get to the moment in our driveway when I asked Ellie if she was going to be okay. I gloss over the part where Perrie asked if she could call me, which doesn't seem important right now. Karl doesn't bring it up either. 

"She said, Why wouldn't I be?" Officer Elliot repeats.

"Yeah."

"And did you answer?"

"No." I didn't. It hits me with a sharp stab of regret now, that I should have.

"Alright." Officer Elliott snaps the notebook shut. "Thank you. This has been helpful. I'll let you know if I have any follow-up questions.

I unclench my hands, realising I've been knotting them in my lap. They're covered with a thin sheen of sweat. "And if you find Ellie? Will you let us know she's alright?"

"Of course. I'm heading to the station now. Maybe she's already home, getting a talking-to from her parents. Most of the time that's-" He stops suddenly, his neck going red as he darts a glance at Nana. "That's what we hope for."

I know what he was about to say. Most of the time that's how these things turn out. It's the sort of thing police officers are trained to tell worried people so they won't spiral into panic when somebody goes missing. But it's not comforting in Echo Ridge.

Because Nana's right. It's never been true.