played with the eggs on her plate and felt utterly ridiculous for thinking that either of them would eat. “Do you want me to stay here and help with Callie? I can do that.” It wasn’t like she had an actual paying job at the moment. Even if she did, she would drop everything to help her brother.
And Zoey. Her friend. Oh, God, please . . . There were no words to speak, even from her heart.
“No. Callie needs me if she can’t have Zoey. At least for now. I want to make everything as normal for her as possible. I’m trying to keep up the pretense that her mother is gone to visit a friend.”
“Do you think Callie knows something is wrong?”
“I’ll keep her occupied so she doesn’t have time to sense how seriously wrong things are. But that won’t last. I don’t know how she’ll react. Kids like Callie are—”
“It’s okay, Alan. You don’t have to explain. This news would be hard on any child.” Fear hollowed her out. “I want to help. What can I do? Anything. Name it.”
Alan scooped eggs up with his fork. Like her, he pretended to eat, moving food around on his plate without ever actually taking a bite.
When he finally spoke, he choked on his words. “You warned me that she had secrets. That’s what you said about the time she went missing for days when you were her roommate. Maybe her sudden disappearance now has something to do with then. I can’t help but hope it does and that she’ll come back to me. Come back to us.”
That he’d connected the two incidents revealed Alan’s desperation. When he lifted his eyes to her, Rae thought she could read his mind.
“You want me . . . You want me to search for her?”
“You investigate for a living. I know investigative reporting is different than, say, if you were a detective, but in some ways it’s the same. You’re like Dad was.”
“Nothing like Dad.” Their father had been an award-winning journalist, a foreign affairs correspondent. He’d stood up for the voiceless, exposing the evils of the world until those evils finally killed him, silencing his voice. She tried to follow in his steps—except for the dying part. Instead, she let everyone down.
“Yes. Yes, you are. The war zones, the battles you’ve faced are different, sure, but you find people, Rae. You find their stories.”
Not anymore. She’d spent years writing exposés, only to be tossed aside after the “debacle,” as her boss had called it. Well, that debacle might have produced a story that could have won her awards if things had taken a different turn. She focused back on the moment. “Did you tell the police about the time she disappeared before?”
“I’ve told them everything. I have nothing to hide.”
Rae tapped the table.
“Rae, you never told me details about that time she disappeared in college.”
“That’s because I don’t know anything.” At least anything that would have made any difference then—or make any difference now. Rae forced herself to chew the eggs that had become cold and rubbery, and Alan followed suit. Good. At least her efforts to get him eating weren’t for nothing.
And maybe she could investigate like he requested, and those efforts would make a difference too. “Mom. Does she know about this?”
“I’ve dreaded telling her.”
“Call her. She’ll come up and help with Callie.” Mom lived in Texas now, working as a secretary for an oil and gas executive.
Rae glanced at the TV. Alan had the sound turned down. The news captioned a story about remains being identified. He normally enjoyed watching nature and science shows but was probably watching the news because of Zoey’s disappearance. Rae knew one thing—if Zoey didn’t come home soon, reporters would start to line the street. Detectives would be in Alan and Zoey’s home asking questions and searching. His and Callie’s lives would be turned upside down even more.
What was this going to do to Callie’s regimen? Her gut churned.
“And Rae . . .”
She looked at Alan.
“Remember.”
She’d never heard Alan sound so defeated. She forced confidence into her tone for his sake. “Remember what?”
“If you do this, remember that this isn’t a story. This isn’t for a Pulitzer Prize. This is our family. It’s my wife—whatever secrets she has.”
Regret squeezed her lungs. Rae understood. “No, it’s not a story, Alan. I hope you know me better than that.”
“I hope so too.”
Rae also hoped Zoey would return on her own like she had the last time she’d