“Just do this for me, please? I’m still hoping I won’t be implicated, and the whole thing will blow over. If it does, there’s no reason for anyone in the family to know details.”

Was she worried about us, or was she worried about her reputation? What could she have done that she didn’t want us to know about?

I tried again. “Are you afraid we’ll report you to the authorities because we think that’s best for you? We aren’t going to do that, Wendy, but I still think you aren’t giving the cops enough credit. Why would they pin this on you if you had nothing to do with it?”

“You know if the police think I might be guilty of murder, they’ll find a way to pin it on me. And I’m not guilty of anything, Ryan, nothing, except being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Mom and Dad aren’t going to be content with a made-up story, not for much longer.”

“Don’t tell them anything, and for sure, don’t tell Bryce. I don’t want to worry him with everything already on his shoulders. I’ll call again when I can. Keep the phone handy.”

There was an audible click, three beeps, and our call was over. I checked the phone’s menu, but, of course, Wendy’s number was blocked. There might be an app or a service to unblock it, one that would help me call her back. But having her number wouldn’t tell me where she was. If she didn’t want to say more, she wouldn’t. I could prod until her girls were writing essays for their college applications, and Wendy wouldn’t budge.

Her girls. Holly and Noelle had made their way into my head for a good reason. Wendy hadn’t asked about them. She hadn’t asked how they were, what I had told them about her absence, or if they were eating and sleeping or doing well in school. During our phone call, the girls had apparently been far from my sister’s thoughts.

I tried to put myself in Wendy’s place, which was impossible because I still knew so little. But when I tried to guess how I would feel as a mother separated from her young children, I was pretty sure I would be begging for information and reassurance.

Of course Wendy knew the girls were safe and well cared for, and that whatever I couldn’t manage would be handled by our mother. We were her family, and we would never let anything happen to Holly and Noelle.

So far she was right. The girls were okay, even if Holly’s lack of sleep was worrisome. Still, how did Wendy know for sure? I could only imagine the stress my sister must have been feeling not to have asked about her daughters.

CHAPTER NINE

I was not oblivious to the most important revelation from my sister’s telephone call. I had been transformed from a journalist who meticulously investigated details to a clueless civilian. I was supposed to dig up information on a stranger, but Wendy wouldn’t tell me why. I wasn’t allowed to know who had died or where, or what she or this Milton Kerns had to do with it.