Dorsey’s cool hand rested on Liza’s shoulder. He nodded to his sister and guided Liza silently up the loft stairs. Gigi came running behind them with her day bag and dropped it on the dresser. She took a quick survey of the room turned upside down but did not comment.

“I know what you’re doing.” Dorsey placed her gold heels together at her feet. “You are running scenarios in your mind, berating yourself for how you could have missed your youngest sister being groomed for a scam. Believe me when I tell you I have fucking been there. You need to stop spinning and get her now.”

“All she wanted was our attention . . .” Liza stammered. Dorsey moved over the covers and found her panties, then rummaged through Gigi’s small bag with jeweled handles, pulling out a pair of elegant striped linen slacks.

“These are my sister’s. You can keep my shirt unless you want to get to Jersey in that dress from last night. There’s not much of it left.” He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, like he made love like that every night.

He went into the bathroom, then emerged only ten seconds later fully clothed. Was his bathroom a Superman booth? Liza dressed quickly, trying to shake the confusion and guilt fogging her head. Dorsey picked up her hand. “I’m arranging a flight for you on our plane. You’ll be there in forty-five minutes. You need to find out from Deya where they are before they move. Keep it casual, so she suspects nothing. Then call New Jersey PD.”

Liza pursed her lips. For Liza, the cops had always been more like the thing they needed rescuing from.

“Your sister is underage and you need to call the cops if anything . . .” Dorsey trailed off as they came down the stairs.

“I want to go with you,” Gigi said as soon as she saw them emerge downstairs.

“No,” Dorsey said. “She needs her brother.”

Liza’s face twisted in surprise. “Why on earth would I take Maurice?”

“Liza, your brother understands how to speak and presents himself with a particular type of posture. He’s going to get a lot further than you can with Isaiah. I know it sounds sexist, but I promise you it will work. Maurice is very perceptive. You should give him more credit. Call him and tell him the car will pick him up on the way to the airport.”

Liza did not know how Maurice had ever made that kind of impression on Dorsey. She rarely thought of her little brother as anything but a bore. Maybe Dorsey didn’t think the worst of her family.

“Okay, I’ll call him.” She was actually grateful to have direction, to occupy her mind and body with action instead of anxious hand-wringing. “Dorsey, I—” Liza started.