with you because I have to find him.” Sympathy appeared in Lon’s eyes, and when I saw it, I felt hungry for it. Starved. My knees weakened.
“You poor thing,” he said. “Have you gone to the police?”
“Yes,” I replied. “But they aren’t doing anything. They think he ran away.”
“I’ll make some phone calls. I know the chief of police.”
My heart lightened. “You do?”
His face looked authoritative and sure. “Certainly,” he said. “We went to school together. You just leave it to me.” He paused and winked. “Maybe we can discuss the details over dinner?”
I took a deep breath. For a moment, I felt new hope. Lon knew what to do. He was a powerful man. He could help bring Daniel back to me.
“Are you ready now, Miss Ray?” Lon’s assistant said.
Where else am I going to go, without a job, without a home, without my son? Why shouldn’t I step inside Lon Edwards’s town car, especially if he might help me find Daniel?
“Yes,” I said quietly, with a defeated sigh. “I’m ready.”
Chapter 10
CLAIRE
Ethan didn’t come home the night of the gala, didn’t even call. And as I cracked an egg into the frying pan the next morning, watching the white firm up around the edges and being careful to keep the yolk intact, I hated that I missed him. I longed to slide the egg—over easy, his favorite—onto a piece of whole wheat toast, sprinkle it with sea salt and a ridiculous amount of cracked pepper, just the way he liked it, and bring it to him. I missed the old ebb and flow of our mornings. Most of all, I longed to see him smile again, a smile unclouded by the past or uncertainty about the future.
I eyed the egg sizzling in the pan. He’s probably at his parents’ house, that’s all. Ethan sometimes stayed there when we fought, or when he was working late and needed a distraction-free environment. After we lost the baby, he’d spent a great deal of time at their home, a few miles outside the city. I tilted the pan at an angle over the plate, but breakfast slid into a defeated heap on the tile floor. Splat. I stared at the mess of runny yolk as the memory of last night came into focus like a slap to the face.
Cassandra. I felt a bitter taste on my tongue before dismissing the thought. No, he wouldn’t. But the clock ticked on the wall above. Eleven a.m. And I had no idea where my husband was.
My heart beat faster when the phone rang. There he was. Calling to apologize, no doubt. “Ethan?” I felt hopeful to hear his voice, and yet my tone sounded angry and jaded.
But the person on the other end of the line wasn’t my husband. Familiar, male, yet not Ethan. “Claire, it’s Dominic.”
“Dominic?”
“From the café,” he said a little shyly. I could hear the bustle of the morning crowd at Café Lavanto in the background: an espresso steamer hissing; the buzz of conversation; a cash register drawer opening and closing in the distance. “I’m so sorry to bother you, to, uh, call you at home. Your number was in the phone book, and…” He sounded flustered. “Listen, I don’t want you to think I’m a stalker or anything. It’s just that I found something, for your article. You’re going to want to see this.”
“Really?” I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window and grimaced. Last night’s eye makeup appeared in alarming, tear-smeared streaks down my cheeks.
“I’ve got to run,” Dominic continued. “It’s crazy here today, and one of our baristas called in sick. But do you think you can drop by the café this morning?”
“Yes,” I said, glancing outside at the remnants of the week’s snowstorm. With the snow finally melting a bit, the sidewalks were studded with mud and dirt and had taken on a gray, sludgy color. Dirty snow. “I can be there in a half hour.”
I walked into Café Lavanto with new eyes that morning, knowing that Vera and Daniel had lived here—well, upstairs, anyway. I glanced around the café, where college students sat propped in front of laptops and happy couples gazed at each other sleepily over cups of frothy foam. Were Vera and Daniel happy here?
Dominic waved to me from behind the counter, his white shirt stained at the pocket with a dusting of coffee grounds. “You came,” he said, grinning. He motioned to a barista to take over at the espresso machine before