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Claire got out of bed and, supporting herself against the walls, made her way to the living room, where she opened the door.
    “Wow, you look like hell,” Leanne muttered.
    “I feel like hell. But thanks for making my morning that much more enjoyable. I can always count on you.”
    Leanne gave her an odd glance. “Just thought you’d want to know.”
    “Not necessarily.” Had she looked okay when she’d appeared at Isaac’s cabin? She couldn’t imagine she had, but it made her mad that she’d even care. Anyway, Leanne didn’t look much better. She’d put on a robe, but she was still in that nightgown she’d been wearing the night before—not a positive association as far as Claire was concerned.
    Fortunately, they didn’t have any neighbors. They lived at the end of a rutted dirt road next to the old park, which wasn’t used anymore. This area, called River Dell, was considered the poor side of town, but Claire liked the privacy of having their own cul de sac. They both worked out of their homes, which had been purchased with the trust money their grandparents had left them, although that was gone now. Leanne made stained-glass windows and lamps, which she sold online and by referral. Her shop, like Claire’s salon, was attached to her house.
    They weren’t getting rich, but they were self-employed and self-sufficient. That freedom meant a lot to Claire.
    Suddenly, Leanne leaned close. “Is that a hickey on your neck?”
    Isaac had wanted to leave a mark; he’d done it on purpose to spite her. “Of course not. I…I hit something when I fell. It’s just a red mark.”
    Leanne didn’t seem completely convinced, but she let it go. “So…do you need me to make you some breakfast?”
    An offer like that meant she was feeling contrite. But the emotion wouldn’t last. She wasn’t that big on taking responsibility for her actions. “No, I’m fine.” Claire hesitated, fought with herself and eventually came to a decision. “I have a question for you, though.”
    Her sister’s expression turned stony. “If it’s about my personal life, I don’t want to discuss it.”
    “It’s about the day Mom went missing.”
    Leanne started to roll away. “That’s even worse.”
    The same unease Claire had experienced at the studio snaked through her. After their argument last night, she didn’t want to pursue the question that kept surfacing in her mind, but couldn’t hold back any longer. “Where did you go when she took you out of school?”
    The whine of the wheelchair motor fell silent as Leanne stopped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “You don’t? The school attendance records show you went home sick.”
    Claire felt the weight of her sister’s stare.
    “Who says?” Leanne finally responded. “Dad picked me up after school, just like he picked you up. You know that. We waited for him together.”
    “You were gone for three hours. Someone brought you back at two. Who was it?”
    “No one. I don’t know where you heard that, but it’s wrong. I never went home, sick or otherwise,” she said, and continued on her way.

    Tug woke Claire from a deep sleep two hours after she’d canceled her appointments. When she raised her head and saw his name on caller ID, she didn’t want to answer. She wasn’t up to talking to anyone else today, even her stepfather. But she knew he was probably worried. If she didn’t answer, he and Roni might drive over.
    That was more than she could handle right now.
    Taking most of the bedding with her, she rolled toward the phone but dropped the handset. “Hello?” she said once she’d picked it up.
    “You okay?”
    Making an effort to shake the exhaustion that dragged at her as if she was under ten feet of water, she rubbed her face. He was worried, as she’d thought. She could hear it in his voice. “Fine. Who told you about the attack?”
    “Leanne.”
    “It’s not in the paper?”
    “Might be. Haven’t checked.”
    Everyone would