“Can I see Ash’s room?” Christian asked. She led him down the hall. For a brief period of time, this was the nursery. If Becca blinked, she could see the two of them in here together, Christian covered in yellow paint, Becca camped out on the floor, morning sickness making her immobile and useless. She clocked a slight hesitation on his part as he headed for the window, carefully studying the framing. She wondered if Christian’s fiancée wanted children. What would their nursery look like? She ignored the deep pang of jealousy and forced herself to focus.

“Do you see anything?” she asked Christian, who was studying the windowsill.

“It looks like the lock was jimmied. Looks like someone climbed in. I’d like to take a look outside,” he said. He didn’t wait for Becca to answer, turning on his heels and heading back down the stairs.

She followed, watching as Christian made his way toward the back patio. The sprinklers were on an evening timer; the ground outside Ash’s room wet beneath his feet.

“There’s one set of footprints here. Which meant someone went in the window, but it doesn’t look like that’s how they left. Considering they had Freud with them, they probably went out the front door.”

Becca shook her head, hating herself for the wine and for not knowing what was happening with Ash. There was a part of Becca that wanted to believe this kid forced Ash to leave, that she hadn’t left on her own free will. The facts wouldn’t allow it.

“Do you have any idea who this kid she is seeing might be?” Christian asked.

“No, but you said she met him at the mission, so we should head downtown. We can talk to Patrick, Ash’s volunteer coordinator.”

“Good. We should also—”

We. That was one of the things Becca missed most. She was no longer part of a “we.” Everything was on Becca, all the decisions, good and bad, all the responsibilities. She hated to admit it, but she was comforted knowing she wasn’t alone in this.

“Oh my God, is she still missing?” a shrill voice called from inside the house.

Becca froze. Of all the people she wasn’t emotionally prepared to deal with, her mother was at the top of the list. She shot an accusatory look at Christian.

“You called my mother?” she said, contemplating whether she should strangle Christian now or wait until there were no witnesses.

“I knew you wouldn’t do it, and I wanted to see if your parents knew anything. I specifically told Virginia not to come unless she heard from me.”

Becca seethed. “Did you suddenly black out and forget who my mother is? She’s never listened to anyone about anything in her entire life,” she said.

“Rebecca, where are you?” Virginia Ortiz shouted.