purse. She was half packed, ready to return to Seattle and get back to her life. What more could she do here?
Make a public statement. You’ve thought about it, and Lenora wants you to do it.
Put up a reward—you have a nest egg tucked away.
It’s Megan, Rebecca. Megan!
She remembered the little blond four-year-old who had looked at her with such adoring eyes, and a lump filled her throat, even as she called herself seven times a fool. But she had to do it. And she would. She would talk to the police again, put as much pressure on them as she could, even though being around Detective Rivers made her nervous. Not only had he been standing in Megan’s darkened living room, like a thief in the night, but there had been the interview, almost an interrogation, at the station. She’d felt as if she were walking on eggshells there, as if he were laying a trap for her, and at any moment she might fall through a hidden door.
Be cool.
You did what you had to.
Everyone thinks you’re here to help find Megan.
And you are, aren’t you?
“Of course,” she said aloud.
So, relax.
But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not until—
Her phone chimed again. She picked it up. Saw Angelica’s name flash onto the screen. Her boss. Great. Just what she needed. Her stomach, already sour, clenched.
She clicked on. “Hi.”
“Rebecca?” Angelica asked, even though she’d known whom she’d called. “Oh, my God, how is it going? Any word on Megan? I’ve been searching the papers and online, but I see nothing.” Angelica had been born near Milan, and though her parents had moved to the States when she was a teenager, there was still a trace of an Italian accent in her speech.
“Nothing yet.”
“Oooh. So bad.” Angelica let out a long sigh. She was an expressive woman, with wavy black hair and eyes as blue as a summer sky. Her olive skin was flawless and her petite figure perfect for the bridal dresses she created and often modeled. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.”
“Well, I’m calling with some bad news. Two weddings in February have been canceled, and the clients don’t want their dresses. Can you believe it? This late. One groom got cold feet and broke it off, and the other clients lost their venue and have to reschedule and now want a summer destination wedding, and this dress just won’t do. Never mind that the bride gained forty pounds since the initial fitting and now claims the dress makes her ‘look fat’ and blames me. I tell you, dealing with bridezillas is not for the faint of heart. Per l’amor di Dio!”
For God’s sake, spoken rapidly and under her breath, was one of Angelica’s favorite phrases. Especially when she was frustrated. Which was often enough.
Angelica wasn’t finished ranting. “They both want their deposits back, of course, but the dresses are nearly complete, and what are my chances of selling them—designed specifically for the brides?” She rattled off a further stream of Italian that Rebecca assumed was some form of swearing, but she couldn’t be certain. “I’ll have to sell them at a discount—that is, if I can. So I’ll finish them and send you digital pictures that you can upload to the site and stress the discount?”
“No problem. I was about to head back.”
“Here? To Seattle? When your sister is still missing?” Angelica asked, her tone almost accusing. “No, no, no. Family is everything. You should stay.”
“I don’t think there’s any more that I can do.”
“No? Surely you need to be there for her when she shows up . . .” Her voice trailed off, and Rebecca understood she meant if Megan showed up. “Someone in that town must know something. Someone always knows something they’re not telling, but you can find out! And check into her boyfriends. They’re always the ones, you know?”
She thought of James and wondered. His attitude did seem off. Should he be more concerned about Megan? He’d told Rebecca about their fight without the right amount of emotion, as if he were talking about someone else or spouting lines from a script. And yet he was found broken and bruised with scars that might never completely heal.
Or was that all in her head? Had James’s reaction been spot-on and she, so close to the situation, was simply blind to the truth?
“She might have a secret lover,” Angelica suggested.
“I don’t know about that,” Rebecca said, but, she supposed, anything was possible. For the thousandth time, she wondered about Megan and