Jeanne Smith

On August 12, 1980, while swimming with her boyfriend, Joey, a stranger killed him and abducted Jeanne Smith. Thirty-four years later, authorities had no idea who kidnapped her or where she was. Amanda Smith, Jeanne's mother, dying of cancer, in a last chance attempt to find her daughter, hired John LeGrand, the Cajun PI. What John discovers is a string of missing girls spanning four decades. This is the premise of my new work in progress. The following scene will never make it into the book; however, it defines Jeanne's character and introduces the Trahan boy and his father, who are suspects in her disappearance. I don't always write scenes for my secondary characters, but occasionally, I find it important enough to do so. Enjoy.

Jeanne Smith

August 12, 1980

Nine-thirty A.M., Jeanne Smith stretched, rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and climbed out of bed. She shuffled to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and showered. She wrapped a towel around herself and walked back to her room. She could smell the bacon her mother cooked, and as if she could read Jeanne's mind, she called out that breakfast would be ready in five minutes and cold in ten. Jeanne chose to wear her Pink Floyd tee shirt and cut-off jeans. She checked herself in the mirror and liked what she saw—blonde hair, green eyes, oval face, pouty lips, a small slightly upturned nose, and a smoking-hot body. She pirouetted in front of the mirror and bounced out of the bedroom.

"I hear the garbage truck, Honey. Could you take the container to the road?"

Jeanne pouted, but she knew it would be futile to protest. It was part of her agreement with her mother—take the garbage out on Tuesday, vacuum her bedroom once a month, fold clothes on Saturday, put her clothes away by Sunday, and place dishes in the dishwasher every evening. In return, she received a fifty-dollar-a-week allowance, which was no small feat on her mother's miniscule salary. Every time she failed to do a chore, she reduced her allowance by ten dollars. She couldn't afford not to take out the garbage.

Of all her chores, the one she hated the most was garbage duty. Calvin Trahan, a dirty, greasy-haired junior at Ellisonville High School worked the garbage truck with his father every summer, and he leered at her, making rude inappropriate comments about her and often to her. She complained to her mother, who complained to the city, but it made no difference. Calvin's father had been a garbage truck driver for twenty years. He was not going anywhere.

Jeanne grabbed the garbage container and rolled it down her driveway to the road. She and her mother lived in a brick home in a quiet suburb just west of downtown Ellisonville. Her father, an accountant with Magnolia Financial Group, had died a few years before when Jeanne was thirteen. She could barely remember what he looked like. He left behind the house, a trust fund for Jeanne's college, enough money to cover the funeral and allow Jeanne and her mother to live comfortably for the first two years after his death. When it became clear that the money would not last, Amanda enrolled in the nursing program at Ellisonville Junior College. Finances were tight right now, but her mother would graduate soon and get a better job than the one she had at The Helping Hands Nursing Home as a certified nurse's assistant.

Jeanne arrived at the road about the same time the truck did. She was sure Calvin's father timed it that way. She had tried placing the garbage out the night before, but the neighborhood dogs would tip it over, and she would be forced to pick up the scattered trash. She tried waking up early and beating the truck, but she was no early riser.

The truck was a noisy machine that smelled like rotten vegetables, rotten meat, and sour milk—all smells she hated. Calvin came out from behind it and leered at her, his teeth dirty and greenish looking when he spoke.

"Hi, beautiful," he said and took the container making sure to brush her hand with his. Jeanne wiped her hand on her butt.

"If only I was that hand, I'd be in heaven right now."

"Oh, shut up, Calvin, and empty the damn container." Jeanne glanced at Calvin's father. He was grinning and actually licking his lips. Calvin hooked up the container to a lift on the truck, and with much grinding of gears and revving of motors, the lift upturned the container and dumped the garbage into the rear of the truck. He returned it to Jeanne.

"Hey, sweets. How about you go out with me this weekend?"

"I'd rather cut my arm off." She grabbed the container and pushed it up the driveway. She heard him tell his father, "She looks just as good going as she does coming." The father laughed and moved the truck up one driveway.

When Jeanne entered the kitchen, her mother had breakfast waiting for her.

"How'd it go with the Trahan boy?"

Jeanne told her what happened.

"Honey, if you would put out the garbage on Monday night or earlier on Tuesday mornings, you wouldn't have to deal with those two."

"I shouldn't have to, Momma. Can't we sue the city or something?"

"It costs money for lawyers, and we just can't afford that." Amanda reached under the cabinets, pulled out a shopping bag, and placed it in front of Jeanne. "Here's something that'll put you in a better mood."

Jeanne's face brightened.

"Oh, Momma, the red bikini." They had seen a Cheryl Tiegs poster in which she wore the swimsuit. Jeanne had fallen in love with it.

Jeanne grabbed the suit and ran to her room to try it on. It clung to her like skin. She turned sideways and checked herself out in the full-length mirror. She turned around and looked over her shoulder to check her backside. Perfect. She felt like a model.

Eat your heart out Cheryl Tiegs.

"Momma," she called out from the bedroom. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

"Come out here. Let me see what you look like."

Jeanne came out prancing like a model on the runway.

"Oh, Honey. Don't you think it's a little too revealing?"

"Oh no, Momma, this is what women are wearing now-a-days."

"But, Honey, it leaves little to the imagination."

"I know how to take care of myself."

"Okay, Baby. Hold on. Let me get the camera."

Her mother walked into her bedroom and grabbed her Instamatic. She snapped several shots as Jeanne posed.

"I need to show it off, Momma. I have to show it off. I'm going to call Joey."

"Don't you two usually go to the pump on Tuesday afternoons?"

"Yes, but I can't wait. I want him to come early. I can't wait to see his reaction."

Joey was Jeanne's boyfriend of sorts. He was on the football team; he and Jeanne had an on–again-off-again relationship. Currently, it was on. She disappeared into her room, reappearing a few minutes later.

"Momma, Joey'll come pick me up in a few minutes. He'll take me to his house, and we'll take his four-wheeler to the pump from there. Okay?"

"Okay, Honey. Just be careful."

"I will, Momma."

"Love you, Honey."

"Love you too," Jeanne turned and ran out of the house, slamming the door in the process.

Her mother stood in the doorway and waved. It would be the last time Jeanne saw her mother.