“No, no. The girls could come home or call the house phone. Oh, please God!” She took a calming drag from her Salem Light, and added, “No, I really need to go home.”

“Then I could come over,” Brianna said.

“Or me,” Tanisha offered. “I got nothing goin’ at home.” She slid a meaningful glance toward Brianna’s Honda and the man leaning against the passenger side before her gaze met Brianna’s.

“No, please . . . it’s been a long day and a long night before that. I just need some time to think and—” Her phone jangled and she jumped. Juggling her cigarette, she anxiously pulled the cell from her bag. “Carson,” she said, her frown deepening. “Look . . . I’d better take this. He might know something.” She answered with so much hope in her voice that Brianna’s heart twisted.

She slid a glance at Jase, ever-patient, it seemed, as if he didn’t have anything better to do than wait there beneath a tree. Lingering in the lamplight, his hands in his pockets, he appeared cool and at ease, which she doubted.

“Damn,” Selma said on a breath that drew Brianna’s attention back to her. “Okay. Fine.” The droop of her thin shoulders and disappointment in her short answers suggested that her ex-husband wasn’t offering any support. “But don’t blame me . . . no, don’t. Carson, just don’t! No excuses . . . For the love of God, we’re in a crisis here.” A pause. She took another drag, then dropped her cigarette onto the curb and crushed it beneath one sandaled foot. “Oh . . . Jesus, please, just call me if you hear anything and I’ll do the same.” She clicked off the phone and quickly fumbled in her purse again, found a fresh cigarette, and lit up. “Such a bastard,” she hissed in a cloud of smoke. “Such a damned bastard.” As if suddenly remembering she wasn’t alone, she fought a fresh onslaught of tears and forced a tremulous grin. “I’d better go. Maybe the girls will show up at my place. . . .” But her brave smile faltered and she swallowed hard.

“I’ll follow you,” Tanisha said. Before Selma could argue, Tanisha sent Brianna an I’ve-got-this glance, then hurried to her own vehicle, a muscle car one of her exes had suggested she buy. The Dodge was parked half a block up the street.

Brianna watched her wend her way past a couple locked in an embrace. Tanisha sent them a dark glare as she strode past them.

“Look, Selma,” Brianna offered, “I’d be glad to come over to—”

“No! Go. Talk to Bentz or the police or anyone else who might help. Work on it from that end. Please. I . . . I just can’t deal with the cops or any more questions right now, but we have to get the word out, have to find the girls . . .”