Sunday, when he’d passed the barn on his way back out to the vineyard. Hell, if he hadn’t broken his clippers, he wouldn’t even have known the two were home.
“She used to write to me about some girl named Amy. They told each other everything. Girls do that. Call her.”
Talia’s “Amy,” Melissa Winchell, had helped Tanner find his sister in Vegas because she’d been worried sick about the choices Talia was making. As far as he knew, the two of them hadn’t spoken since.
But then he hadn’t known that Talia and Tatum had talked to each other during the years he’d been searching for Talia, either. So maybe Melissa and Talia talked, too.
Melissa used to stop by the farm now and then. Just to keep in touch.
“According to Amy, Tatum ditched all her friends when she met Harcourt.”
“This guy’s got a real hold on her.”
“I know.”
“I’m guessing the police know about him?”
“They do. The Harcourts like Tatum. They cooperated. I got the idea that this kid’s a problem for them, too. If he knows anything, his father will get it out of him.”
“So I can expect a call from the cops, too?”
“They asked about her family.”
“I’m guessing you couldn’t wait to tell them what I do for a living. How I’m such a horrible influence on my baby sister that we can’t be in the same room together?”
Okay, so maybe his stance had been a bit harsh on that one. He was willing to rethink it if she would. As soon as they got Tatum home.
“No, sis. I told them Tatum idolizes you and gave them your cell number.”
A long silence followed. “And you’re giving me a heads-up that if the cops call, it’s not me they’re after.”
“Something like that.” He loved her. “And to tell you that Tatum’s missing.”
“In case she comes calling.”
“In case she comes to harm. You have a right to know that she might be in danger.” At the moment, he’d give his vineyards, his house and the rest of the money he had in the bank if Tatum would show up on her sister’s doorstep.
Show up anywhere. Alive.
“It’s not like her to just leave. She didn’t take her retainer or any of her things, which indicates that she didn’t intend to be gone long, and Harcourt’s at home with his folks.”
And Morris and Brown had asked for her DNA.
“Do I have your permission to call her?”
Instincts honed by Talia’s proven lack of trustworthiness almost choked him as he said, “Yes. But I’m pretty sure her battery’s dead. Her phone goes immediately to voice mail and the charger was here.”
“She can get another charger.” Talia’s dry response made him feel a little better. For no apparent reason. “And it’s also possible that she’s sending the line to voice mail when she sees who’s calling. Or maybe she has the phone off to conserve the battery. I’ll keep trying, just in case.”
“Thanks, sis.”
“How much cash does she have on her?”
When Talia had left at eighteen, she’d taken all of his money that she could get her hands on. Close to five hundred dollars.
“I gave her fifty on Saturday, as I do every week. I don’t know if she spends it all every week, or if she’s saved up. She hasn’t accessed our joint account.”
“You’re still keeping your name on everyone else’s accounts, huh?”
“She’s fifteen, Talia. And I also put money in that account for her. Anyway, the punk could have spotted her a thousand easy.”
“I’m sure the cops will find out from his parents if he did. Surely they’d know if he suddenly withdrew a thousand bucks.”
“Unless he got it selling drugs and then they won’t know.”
“You’re telling me she could be anywhere.”
“Yeah.”
“You need me to come home?”
Tanner had a flash of memory―Talia, back when her hair was still long and blond, sitting at the kitchen table with him and Thomas, laughing so hard she spit mashed potatoes on a bowl of peas....
“Not yet,” he said. “Hopefully she’ll be home tonight and I can tan her hide for putting us all through this.”
“Tanner?”
“Yeah?”
“I suggest you don’t touch a hair on her head. If you want her to speak to you once she turns eighteen, that is.”
He’d never hit Tatum. Ever. He’d used the words figuratively. But he’d slapped Talia once. He was seventeen at the time and she’d been ten and had been using words he’d only ever heard come out of his mother’s mouth when the woman was high on something and chasing her next lay.
Talia’s eyes had opened wide, filled with tears, but even then she’d been too tough to let them fall. He’d been more appalled at his action than she had. Had apologized over and over.
Clearly she’d never forgiven him.
CHAPTER SIX
“WE KNOW WHO you are, Tatum.” Sedona waited until they were seated in the Garden of Renewal, a professionally planted utopia on the grounds of The Lemonade Stand, designed with aesthetics, sound and scent in mind. The rock waterfall in the middle of the garden offered a comforting white noise that tuned out sounds from the world beyond.
“My brother found me and told you, didn’t he? And now you’re going to make me go home.”
“No. Someone reported you missing to the police. You’re all over the news.”
“Oh.”
“You didn’t think anyone would miss you?”
The girl’s head was bent as she leaned over, her elbows on her knees, hands on her arms, and rocked.
A defensive posture that was far too familiar to Sedona. She saw it a lot in her line of work.
“I didn’t think,” Tatum said. “At least, not about that part.”
“So tell me what you did think about.”
Tatum sat upright, her eyes glistening with tears. “I had to get away from him, Ms. Campbell. I was online this morning and read about The Lemonade Stand on someone’s Facebook page.
