“What’s that compared to finding your sister? Didn’t you tell me you could do your work anywhere?”

“Most of it,” Rebecca admitted grudgingly.

“Then don’t give up. You know I’d be there if I could, but I just can’t. Not right now. I never dreamed some reporter would come all the way down here. But speaking of that, why don’t you go on TV? You know, like they do, and put a plea out for information on her? Maybe you-know-who could cough up a reward. I would, you know I would, but I’m strapped. Oh, dear—I’ve got another call coming in—Oh! Well, speak of the devil! It’s Mel!” Her voice took on a brighter, almost giddy tone that Rebecca had to steel herself against. “Look, honey, I’ll call you later, okay? Love you!” And with that she clicked off to take a call from “the one.”

Rebecca’s lips tightened. There was no way she was going to call Donald Travers and ask for a dime.

But it’s for Megan, and she needs it.

That naggy, irritating voice that had been in her head ever since Megan had gone missing was at it again. Rebecca felt a duty to help her sister, and really, she wanted to, but she’d been played for a fool so many times, duped by Megan so often that she wanted to resist.

This time you don’t have much of a choice.

This time she could be in serious trouble.

Rebecca ground her teeth in frustration. Getting more deeply involved was her natural instinct, and she loved her sister, but sometimes it was so damn hard. And James Cahill’s involvement made it harder.

Arguing with herself, Rebecca tucked her phone in the side pocket of her purse. She was half packed, ready to return to Seattle and get back to her life. What more could she do here?

Make a public statement. You’ve thought about it, and Lenora wants you to do it.

Put up a reward—you have a nest egg tucked away.

It’s Megan, Rebecca. Megan!

She remembered the little blond four-year-old who had looked at her with such adoring eyes, and a lump filled her throat, even as she called herself seven times a fool. But she had to do it. And she would. She would talk to the police again, put as much pressure on them as she could, even though being around Detective Rivers made her nervous. Not only had he been standing in Megan’s darkened living room, like a thief in the night, but there had been the interview, almost an interrogation, at the station. She’d felt as if she were walking on eggshells there, as if he were laying a trap for her, and at any moment she might fall through a hidden door.

Be cool.

You did what you had to.