behind designer sunglasses. Had she ever seen the woman’s eyes? Isla wondered. Drew glanced at the couple and scoffed, grumbling something rude under his breath, but he knew better than to confront grieving parents.
Isla approached Gil with the boxes of doughnuts. Only a few remained. Gil’s eyes appeared red from crying. As she approached, he reached out and embraced her, sobbing violently. It occurred to her that maybe he hadn’t set all this up in order to spice up his reality show. She shared his pain but wanted to stay strong for Katie’s sake. Because she knew in her heart that Katie was out there, alive and well, and waiting to be found. And if Katie was alive, she was the type of kid who would make sure her friend was alive, too.
Gil released her but continued to sob. People came over and said kind words to him. They listened sympathetically while he told everyone how much he loved and missed his precious daughter, as if she was the only girl who’d gone missing. It irked Isla. She wanted to remind him that her daughter had gone missing, as well. But she held her tongue, her eyes alternating between Gil and his aloof wife.
Felicia stood like a statue, neither speaking nor showing any emotion. Isla assumed from Felicia’s movements that she was on some kind of medication. She couldn’t blame her. It wouldn’t be the way she’d want to face this crisis, but everyone reacted differently. And yet the sight of this statuesque woman mesmerized her. If she didn’t know her identity, she might have mistaken Felicia for a reclusive Hollywood starlet.
“I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to my baby,” Gil said. “I’d move heaven and earth to bring her home.”
“They’re okay, Gil. Our girls are resilient kids,” Isla said.
“Willow is all I have. You at least have another child.”
Isla wanted to slap him for that inappropriate remark. Lucky for him, something caught her attention just then. Over his shoulder, she saw a Porsche SUV pull up next to the Mercedes. Out of it stepped Samantha and Beckett McCallister. Beckett looked exceedingly handsome, like one of those soap opera actors her mother used to watch back in the day. Like that Mitt guy who ran for president years ago. He exuded equal parts privilege and restraint, maintaining a stiff upper lip in the face of tragedy. The two of them were dressed casually in crisp jeans and Ivy League–themed sweatshirts.
Samantha was her best and biggest cheerleader at the salon, recommending Isla to all her friends and neighbors. She gushed over the way Isla styled her hair, and Samantha’s words of praise filled a void in Isla’s ego that Ray couldn’t even begin to meet. When Samantha’s wealthy friends began to patronize the salon, for the first time since opening her door for business, Isla started to make a profit.
She was moving over to greet Samantha when she saw the back door to the SUV open. Out stepped a young man wearing a knitted beanie cap. A swath of fine hairs dotted his jawline. Isla couldn’t believe his outfit. Was he going to a rave party or planning to search for the two missing girls? He had on a green bomber jacket with a bizarre coat of arms on the breast. Beneath that he had on a ribbed T-shirt and tapered black jeans with hideous designer rips over the knees. Isla imagined prepubescent and underpaid Vietnamese kids ripping the jeans in sweatshops in order that entitled scions like him could wear them to search parties.
She suddenly realized that she recognized him.
Isla had barely had time to take him in when Drew started shouting. The kid looked up from his phone and staggered sideways as Drew bull-rushed him, but then Beckett and a few of the other volunteers came between them.
“Get away from us,” Beckett ordered Drew. “Julian, get back in the car.”
Julian!
“Screw him, Dad. I’m not letting this chump keep me from looking for my friend,” Julian said.
“You’re lucky there’s people here, Julian, or I’d kick your ass,” Drew said.
“Anytime, dude. You know where to find me.”
Isla stuck her fingers in her mouth and let out a shrill whistle, and everyone turned toward her. She stared at Julian, the boy in her daughter’s photos. Why hadn’t she made that connection sooner? This added a new wrinkle to the mix. Not only was Samantha her most prized and valued customer at the salon, but Julian was her son.
“Drew, go home.