Renfrew grimaced as she reclasped the chain. She was wearing a teal blue pantsuit today with a dove gray blouse, and the heart pendant disappeared beneath the neckline. “He died a long time ago.” She shook her head sadly. “But yeah, he was proud. He wanted my brother to be a cop, too, but Ben went to law school instead. Pop never forgave him for that. It was up to me to keep up the family tradition.”

“Once a daddy’s girl, always a daddy’s girl.” I smiled at her.

“Like the song goes, my heart belongs to Daddy. Not that I don’t love my mom, too. Without her watching my boys when they’re not in school, I’d be toast.”

I felt a pang of envy. I’d never been able to count on my mother. My phone rang just then, and I fished for it under the papers I’d taken from Claudia’s apartment the night before. ARSON DESTROYS HISTORIC CHURCH. It was Martin, yet again.

“My ex,” I said, obliquely explaining why I wasn’t answering the call. I immediately regretted introducing the topic. Talking about Martin and his reasons for being in touch with Claudia was painful enough with Jesse. I liked Renfrew, but I wasn’t going to unload the saga on her. I’d had too many confidences betrayed by female friends to let down my guard easily again. “Can I ask you about a rehab center called Idylhaven?” I said quickly. “Detective Bruxton mentioned it last night, and I heard from a friend of Claudia’s that she’d been there twice last year.”

“This friend have a name?” We were back on familiar footing. I told Renfrew what Tariq had relayed to me. What the police had found roughly matched his story: Claudia had gone to Idylhaven in April and again in September. Both times she had checked herself out. Since she hadn’t been ordered to the center by a court, she was free to come and go as she pleased.

“Here’s one thing that struck us funny,” said Renfrew. “Claudia checked herself out on September twenty-ninth. Then she rents a car on September thirtieth and drives it to Newark, New Jersey, where she drops it off at the airport.”

“Wait a minute. Where did she stay on the night of the twenty-ninth if she wasn’t at Idylhaven?”

“The same question occurred to us. We’ve called every hotel and motel and bed-and-breakfast they’ve got up there—and there are plenty—but we haven’t found anything.”

“Did she take a flight on the thirtieth?” My sister hated planes, but maybe she’d gotten over that.

“Nope. And she doesn’t have a passport—we checked—so she hasn’t left the country, unless she’s gone to Puerto Rico or Guam. Your sister seems to have developed the ability to vanish at will.”