I wondered if it was my father’s superstition that let me believe in what Clara said. When you grow up believing in lucky dollar bills, maybe you’re agreeing that there are things about the universe that you can’t know or control. Maybe, maybe that’s what Clara’s gift was, too. Something I couldn’t rationalize or explain, but that existed. And whether or not I believed her story, I believed in her distress. “So, what do we do?”

“Well, that’s what I thought you could help with. Can’t you see things at the spa? You have all of those cameras Emily is always threatening me with. And so does the casino. Can’t you see the videos? Maybe you could watch the footage, see if Peaches has been hanging around. Or you can at least see who has stayed in the hotel, right? Can you check to see if she’s come in lately? Maybe we can find her and warn her … just tell her to leave town. She might not believe me, but she will probably believe you. If you tell her you agree …”

I cut her off. “You have to be a supervisor to access the security system. Emily might be able to, but I can’t.” I didn’t want to tell Clara that it would probably be impossible to find Peaches that way, that the sheer number of hours and angles that the security cameras represented created an insurmountable amount of footage. Because, of course, I had had the same thought already, about finding my father somewhere in all that tape.

“Well … can you get her password? Figure out how to get in there?”

It was strangely revealing what glimmers you could see of someone’s life in seven to ten characters. I would have loved to know what little scrap of herself Emily used for hers. “I don’t know about that either.”

“Please, Lily. At least try? I’m worried about Peaches. I gave her a reading, and it was dark.”

“That seems to be your specialty. But sure. Fine. I’ll see what I can do, but I’m definitely not making any promises.”

“Whoever sees her first can ask her about the purse, what day it was that she found it, and where it was. Maybe that will clarify what happened to the other woman, the first one. I wish I knew her name.”

“What about Julie?”

“I don’t know what to do about her yet. Let’s just start with Peaches and see where we get.” She pulled out one of her business cards and scribbled a number on the back. “I just added minutes to my phone, so you can text me if you find out anything. Here, give me yours. Oh, and what do you think about that guy you work with? The janitor?”

“You mean Luis?”