I was a bit surprised that Colleen was telling me so much about Jodi. It reminded me of how people talked about their loved ones at funerals. There seems to be this compulsive urge to vocalize what the person was like, and relive memories. I supposed when someone is missing, people experience some of those same feelings, the urge to keep the missing alive, if only in their words.
A man slipped into the chair on my other side, smoothing down his yellow tie. Colleen looked at him and stiffened. Like a sheet of vellum paper that was worn and crinkled, he had a slightly rumpled air. He was young, probably in his mid-twenties, with wavy black hair that drooped over the collar of his wrinkled suit jacket. Black-rimmed eyeglasses framed gray eyes. His conservative suit and tasseled loafers were at odds with the longish hair and his subtle citrus scent.
The young man leaned across me and said, “Hi, Colleen.”
Colleen immediately grabbed her messenger bag, muttering, “I can’t believe you continue to show up here.” To me she said, “I’m going to let Mrs. Nita know about your ideas for the flyers.” She left as fast as she could, but her progress was pretty slow since she had to step over people’s knees and purses to get to the aisle.
“I think she likes me,” the man said to me as he pulled a pack of gum out of an inside pocket of his jacket. He tilted it toward me. “Gum?”
“Sure. Thanks. If she likes you, she sure has a unique way of showing it,” I said.
“It’s a misunderstanding. I’m Scott Ezell. You must be new,” he said.
What was this? Did I have a sticker on my head that read Visitor? “You’re the second person who’s said that to me tonight. Is it that obvious?”
“With the military component, we’re a pretty tight group here in North Dawkins. It’s kind of like a rotating carousel. People get off, others get on, but it doesn’t take long to recognize the regular riders.”
“I’m a new rider, I guess,” I said, and introduced myself.
I heard my name called and turned to see Colleen standing beside Nita and beckoning to me. “Ah, excuse me,” I said, and made my way up to the front of the room.
Nita said, “Your idea for organizing the flyers is terrific. Would you be interesting in coordinating it?”
I sensed I was talking to an expert in delegation. She would have to be to keep the Find Jodi campaign running this long. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something along those lines. I’m a professional organizer and I’d like to donate some of my time to help you out, if you’re interested. I wouldn’t charge you. It could work out nicely for both of us. I can help you with the flyers and it would give me a reference in North Dawkins and some publicity.” I pulled my information packet from my purse and handed it to her. “This tells a bit about me.”
Nita looked through the packet quickly and then smiled at me. “Thank you. That would be wonderful. What do you need to help with the flyers?”
“Just a map and some highlighters,” I said, and felt as if a tightly coiled spring inside me had relaxed. It might not be paid work, but I had an organizing job. It was a start.
“Terrific,” Nita said, and dispatched someone for the items. “You two sit right here. I’m going to introduce you, Ellie. That should help get the word out.” She ushered us to front-row seats and stepped behind the table.
Nita raised her voice and the murmuring around the room faded as she said, “Thank you all for coming out tonight. As you know, this is a special meeting time for us. Because of recent…developments…” Her voice faltered and she swallowed.
Gerald had been leaning against the wall, but as Nita struggled to control her wobbly voice, he quickly crossed to the table and placed his arm around her shoulders.
He scanned the crowd and I got the sense that he’d rather be anywhere but speaking to fifty or so people, but he cleared his throat and said, “We appreciate y’all and want to say thank you for supporting us. We couldn’t have made it this long without our friends. We know there’s lots of questions and speculation about Jodi right now. That’s one reason for this meeting. We’ve always been honest and open and shared what we know with you. Right now we don’t have any definite news about the remains that were found.” He paused and I thought he was about to get choked up, too, but instead his deep voice boomed out again and he said, “I won’t lie to you. It’s been a tough week for us. But Nita and I decided that we can’t quit now. We’ve got to keep going, keep Jodi’s picture out there, keep up the searches.”
He looked down at Nita. She gave him a reassuring smile and a small nod. I heard the distinctive sound of a digitized camera shutter and looked over my shoulder. A photographer stood at the back of the room. Two local television station photographers were beside him. They were rolling, getting every minute of the scene between Nita and Gerald.
Gerald squeezed Nita’s shoulder, then stepped back to let her have center stage again. That scene hadn’t been staged, had it? Surely not. It had seemed authentic to me.
“Gerald is right,” Nita said, her voice strong and calm again. Despite her small size, her voice filled the room. “We have to press on. Because of the discovery earlier this week, there is a renewed interest in Jodi,” she said, acknowledging the reporters and photographers in the back, “and we have to take advantage of it. This may be the week that someone sees Jodi’s picture on the news and recognizes her. Or it may be a flyer that sparks someone’s memory.”
Nita picked up a flyer from one of the open boxes and held it up. “The rain has washed away most of our work, so we need to post flyers again. We have a professional organizer, Ellie Avery, who lives here in North Dawkins and has volunteered her time to coordinate the flyer distribution.” Nita waved her arm at me and I felt a bit like a contestant on The Price Is Right. I gave a little wave to the room.
“Before Ellie tells us how we’re going to organize the flyer distribution, I want to remind everyone about the search Saturday in Magnolia Estates. The sheriff’s office can’t guarantee that they will be finished, but we’re planning a search for that morning. If they’re not finished, we’ll postpone the search until the next Saturday.”
I was only half listening to Nita’s words because her statement that I’d be talking to the group had thrown me. I wasn’t fond of public speaking. Well, that’s an understatement. Honestly, I’d have to say that I’d rather host a party for two hundred people at my house than speak to this group—or any group of more than ten people—but it looked like I was going to have to speak. I’d keep it short. Really, what was there to say? Just a few sentences should do it. Then why was my heart beating like I’d just had a near miss on the freeway?
A familiar voice brought me back to the meeting. I turned and saw Coleman May, standing. “You can’t search Magnolia Estates.”
Chapter Seven
“There’s procedures, Nita. You can’t call for a search in Magnolia Estates,” Coleman repeated.
“I’m sure we can work it out, Coleman,” Nita said, but he didn’t sit back down.
He continued. “Magnolia Estates is private property. We can’t have a couple hundred people tramping over lawns and through flower beds.”
“The search will be of the undeveloped area. Gerald will have a map and show you the area. We’ll contact the homeowners’ association with all the details,” Nita said. She was still smiling, but her smile was a bit strained.
“That’s even worse.” Coleman’s tone was belligerent. “There’s all sorts of wildlife out there and poison ivy. Who’s liable if there’s an injury?”
“Coleman.”