She’d mentioned that once before, but I’d laughed it off. She’d never said anything about it again.

“I’m an artist. I draw the model. I’m not the model.”

“I know. That’s what I keep telling Fredricka.”

“Have you talked to Fredricka lately?”

Silence for a whole minute. Seriously, I counted to sixty.

“No. I tossed my cell phone because she kept blowing it up with calls and texts.”

“You’re under contract,” I reminded her.

“I know,” she said, “and I just don’t care, Roy. I just don’t fucking care.”

“Can I reach you again at this number?” I asked.

“No. If I want to talk to you again, I’ll call you.”

“At least tell me where you are. I’ll be able to find the area code anyway.”

“I’m not in the area code. Please. Don’t try to find me. I need to…” She sighed, a whoosh into my ear through the phone. “I don’t know what I need.”

“Help,” I said softly. “You need help.”

“Not ready to face everything yet. Someday. But not now.”

“Riley, please—”

“Goodbye, Roy.”

“Riley, don’t hang up. Don’t!”

But she did.

Damn!

I did a quick search for the area code. Central Ohio. What was in Ohio? Of course, just because the area code was in Ohio didn’t mean she was in Ohio. She could have purchased a disposable cell phone there.

Or she could be using someone else’s.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

My poor little sister needed help. Needed us.

But what could I do? Reid always said Riley didn’t want to be found. But now…

Now she’d all but told me that she hadn’t disappeared those other times. My father had taken her away.

This was all so fucked up.

My father was so fucked up.

And what was up with Father Jim? Just the thought of him had me doubling over with nausea, and I didn’t have a clue why.

Except that I did.

Tonight, at my session, I was going to find out.

49

Charlie

I was a little late to Luigi’s.

“I ordered for you,” Blaine said, standing and pulling out my chair for me.

“Of course you did,” I countered.

He held up the bottle of chianti that sat on the table. “Wine?”

“No thanks. I have a lot to do this afternoon.” And you know damned well I don’t drink at lunch.

“Come on, Charlie. Just one glass. It’s Saturday.”

“Sure.”

Not that I planned to drink it. I just wanted him to shut up.

“The information you have?” I said.

“Let’s have a nice lunch first. Tell me what’s going on with you.”

“You know what’s going on with me, Blaine. We just talked two days ago.”

“Nothing new?”

Only that I was twice as frustrated with him now.