style="font-size:15px;"> “Since she left? No. We’re all hoping she’s having too much fun.”
“What did she tell you about where she was going?”
Sheila glanced at Ryan, obviously assuming he must already know all this; after all, Trish was his sister.
You don’t know Ryan, Sasha thought. He likes his world without ripples.
And even as she thought it, she realized that for all the difference in his talk, it seemed Ryan hadn’t really changed at all. Not at heart.
And that, she thought sadly, was where it mattered the most.
“Just that it was somewhere she’d never been. And that she’d heard it was beautiful there.”
“Where?” Ryan asked, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer.
“She didn’t say,” Sheila answered. Then, curiously, “Don’t you know?”
“No one does,” Ryan said flatly.
Sheila’s eyes widened. “Not even your folks? That doesn’t sound like Trish.”
“Exactly,” Ryan said.
“She hasn’t called them, either? Or you?”
“No. Or answered our calls. And her voice mail is full.”
“That’s very odd. She adores you.”
Ryan flushed again, but his voice held a note of bitterness when he said, “So much she wouldn’t even tell me about this.”
Maybe she thought you wouldn’t understand, Sasha thought, but kept that to herself as she asked, “She didn’t say anything else, even in passing, about where she was going or why?”
Sheila seemed to hesitate for a second. “Not directly, no.”
“Then indirectly?”
“Nothing she said. But…”
“But what?” Ryan said urgently.
Sheila studied him for a moment, and Sasha saw the moment when the woman realized what was really happening. “You’re afraid for her,” she said, worry suddenly transforming her face. “You think something’s happened to her?”
“We don’t even have a clue that anything’s happened. But for Ryan’s parents’ sake, we want to be sure.”
Sheila shifted her focus to Sasha. “Are you a friend of Trish’s?” she asked, somewhat belatedly.
“More of Ryan’s,” Sasha said. “I have some…practice looking for people, so I’m helping out.”
Sheila wasn’t distracted by the purposeful vagueness. “Are you a cop?”
“No. I’m only here as a friend.”
“Are you Redstone?”
“No,” she said again. “Except by extension. Where I do work is funded in part by Redstone.”
“Oh. Kind of like us, then.”
“Yes, I imagine so.”
Finally, the woman seemed content to leave it at that. Sasha was glad; sometimes just the idea of the Westin Foundation being called in frightened people. They’d handled several highprofile cases, and some of them had not ended prettily. The case the foundation had been born of, the kidnapping and murder of Zach Westin’s small son, had been one of the ugliest.
“What was it you were thinking, Sheila? At this point, anything will help.”
The woman’s mouth twisted slightly, as if she weren’t sure what she’d thought wasn’t silly.
“Before she left Trish was acting…different. Excited. Almost giddy. We all thought it was graduating high school, turning eighteen, all that. But then she told us she was going on this trip, her first one ever by herself, and it seemed obvious that was what had her so wound up.”
Sasha listened silently, and when Ryan opened his mouth as if to speak she hushed him with a gesture.
“And…?”
Sheila lowered her gaze. “It’s just a feeling I got. Nothing I can say for sure.”
“Sometimes feelings are more accurate than what we think we see,” Sasha said.
“It was just the way she talked about it. Like there was more than just the trip she was looking forward to. She never said, but…I don’t know. Maybe it’s just that we don’t remember how exciting that first solo trip can be.”
“Did she talk about what she was taking? Shopping for things to take, that kind of thing?”
She sensed rather than saw Ryan grimace, as if he thought the question foolish. She didn’t care; she knew what she was doing.
“You know, she did say something one day about having to find a heavier jacket. She said it was going to be hard to do in Southern California in the summer.”
Sasha sensed Ryan’s sudden alertness. Not so foolish after all, she silently told him.
“When did she first start talking about this trip, do you remember?”
“Shortly before she graduated,” Sheila said. She flicked a glance at Ryan. “We thought maybe the trip was a graduation present, from her folks or something. That maybe that was why she wouldn’t talk about any details, that it was supposed to be a surprise, and she didn’t want to let on that she’d found out about it. But I guess that wasn’t it, was it?”
“No,” Ryan said grimly. “We didn’t know anything about it.”
Before Sheila could react to that, Sasha asked, “Do you still have the note she left here?”
“I don’t know. She left it for Emma. She might have kept it. I can ask.”
“Please do.” She handed Sheila one of her Westin Foundation cards, figuring it didn’t matter now if the woman knew where she worked. “My number’s on there, if you could let me know as soon as possible.”
She definitely wanted that note, she thought. She wanted to compare it to the one left at home. If they were different, that would be significant—people often told the people they worked with different things from what they told their family. Especially if those people shared the bond of dedication the people of Safe Haven seemed to.
If they were the same, that would also be significant, indicating Trish had been truly intent on keeping her secret. Or secrets.
If they were identical, that would be even more significant, Sasha thought grimly. There were few circumstances where a person used exactly the same wording, and not many of them were very good.
“You don’t really think anything bad has happened,
