“You guys okay at the house?” she asks. She sounds nervous. Whatever she’s learned in the time since we left her office, it’s not good news.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” I say. And suddenly I am swamped by dread. I’ve been worried about my dad, but I’ve controlled it by not letting myself go there all the way. Now, my grip is slipping. “Did you find my dad?”

“Not yet.” She’s measuring her words. “I just left your house, though. For sure there was someone there. Jasper’s right. It’s a mess. The police are investigating, and for now they seem to be buying the idea that you and Gideon are out of town—at your grandmother’s house, I told them. They haven’t asked to talk to you yet and they didn’t mention your call. Between the state of your house and some random woman having your dad’s phone, they at least seem to be taking finding your dad seriously. And I did find his itinerary, buried under a bunch of other stuff.”

“Oh, good.” But I don’t really feel relieved. “Then we can call them and—”

“I already did,” she cuts me off. “Apparently, Senator Russo wasn’t even in Washington yesterday and had no plans to be. They have no record of anyone from their office ever being in touch with your father either,” she says, then hurries to add, “He was on that flight, though, and he did land in DC. And, like you said, fifteen minutes after he was on the ground, he booked a flight back home. But—”

“He never got on that flight back,” I say, finishing her sentence.

“No, he didn’t.”

“So now what?” I ask, and I am gripping the phone so hard my hand is aching.

“Surveillance video and cell phone data are the next places to check. It can take a little while to get all of that, but the wheels are in motion. There’s a chance I’ll have to go to DC to make sure it happens. But then I could also talk to that woman who has your dad’s phone. She may know more than she realizes.” Rachel takes a breath and sounds exhausted when she exhales. “Now, about the girls in the hospital, I—”

“No,” I say, feeling a stab of guilt. I feel bad pulling Rachel off helping the girls, but I can’t have her distracted from my dad. His situation suddenly feels so much more urgent. I just hope that isn’t because I know something—something terrible—I don’t even realize I know. “You need to find my dad.”

And the girls will be my responsibility, I think but do not say. It’s only fitting, though. I am the one who left them behind.