“I’m going to try.”

“You know, you’re going to have to tell her something more concrete soon. If Wendy really is a murder suspect, the sheriff or the police, whoever has jurisdiction where it was committed, may well be calling your parents.”

I got up and walked to the door looking over the porch, and stared into the night. “I can’t imagine what I’ll say.”

“Yeah, me either. I’ll give it some thought.”

“Maybe we’d better widen the search to the whole state. And then move over to California. That’s where Mom thought Wendy was, unless she’s just so rattled she doesn’t know one state from the other.”

“How easily does she rattle?”

“How often does she almost lose her husband and then her daughter?”

“I’ll widen.”

We hung up. I moved the sheets into the dryer and hoped that soon, Wendy would be standing in the kitchen washing and drying them all over again so she could move back into her bedroom.

I remembered my prayer. I hoped somebody upstairs had been listening.

CHAPTER FIVE

The girls’ school was only two blocks from the town house. My mother had jotted instructions and directions, covering everything I needed to get them to their classes by eight-thirty the next morning.

Despite that, my cell phone jolted me awake at seven. Mom wanted to be sure the girls were up, that I had picked out their clothes and helped them dress. The list went on. Was I cooking a healthy breakfast—with what Wendy had in her kitchen?—and had I made lunches—same question. I should make sure their homework was still in their backpacks. Once they were safely in school, I was to stop by the office to sign papers making me the official contact while Wendy was away. Mom would call to assure the school I was legit.

“Any questions?” she asked once the to-do list was complete.

I was surprised she hadn’t told me to time the girls with my stopwatch as they brushed their teeth. “How’s Dad this morning?”

“I made him a banana–almond milk smoothie for breakfast.”

“In other words, not good.”

“He will adjust.”

I felt even sorrier for Dad than I had before the phone call.

Since I was awake I went into the girls’ room. Why should they sleep when I couldn’t? They both sat up, groggy-eyed, long hair tangled from what must have been a restless night.

I put on my brightest smile, the one that turned normal dimples into canyons. “Time to get up, sleepyheads. Do you need help picking out your clothes?”

They both stared at me. Either they thought I was crazy to assume they couldn’t pick out their own, or crazy to assume they could. Since I couldn’t tell, I smiled again. “See you in the kitchen in a few minutes.”

I dressed quickly, then padded barefoot downstairs, turning over breakfast possibilities as I went. I had bread, I had eggs, and while there was no milk or syrup, I’d found honey with the other basics. So I melted margarine, asking forgiveness from the nutrition gods, and made French toast using eggs and water, finishing with diluted honey as a topping. While the toast cooked, I assembled two bagged lunches.