Her Sister (Search For Love series) Read online

  "Of course, I remember you. I wasn't able to help you. Please, call me Gillian."

  "I hope it's okay that I called your home number rather than the foundation's number. You had given it to me and—"

  Home for Gillian Bradley was near L.A. Amanda remembered the Spanish house in the hills, the welcoming feel of it when she and Max had traveled there.

  "This number's fine. Has something happened? Have you gotten a lead?"

  "Actually we have. We don't know if anything will come of it, but that's not why I'm calling. My granddaughter has run away. We don't know why, but she made a friend on-line through Branches, and we think she's gone to visit him in Albuquerque. We don't know anything else. We're trying to trace his IP because they e-mailed back and forth, but we want to find her before something happens to her. Can you help?"

  When there wasn't an immediate response, Amanda said, "We're flying to Albuquerque as soon as we can get a flight. The police are on this, but, well, you know how I feel about that."

  "What's your granddaughter's name?"

  "It's Shara—Shara Thaddeus. Clare was never married."

  "If I remember correctly, your husband wasn't too keen on enlisting my help the first time."

  "He's my ex-husband," Amanda reminded her, "And he really has no choice this time. I'm not going to sit by without doing everything I can."

  "Shara," Gillian said thoughtfully.

  Amanda had no idea whether Gillian was considering helping them or not. Did she get a feeling just from a name? "Can we send you something? Do I need to come see you?" That's what they'd done before. She'd taken along clothes of Lynnie's that she'd packed away.

  "Albuquerque's on my side of the country. Can you give me a few minutes to call my husband? I'll check out his schedule. I also want to talk to my partner, Jake Donovan."

  Amanda remembered Jake. He was a private investigator who did background and research work for Gillian. "Do you want me to hold on?" Amanda asked, hopefully. She couldn't take the chance that Gillian wouldn't call her back.

  "No, I have your number from Caller ID. I'll give you a call back in about fifteen minutes. I promise, Amanda, no longer."

  There was something in Gillian Bradley's voice that made Amanda believe her.

  Fifteen minutes later, Amanda knew what flight they were taking to Albuquerque and the hotel where they'd be staying.

  Max asked her, "So you really expect her to call back in fifteen minutes?"

  Those fifteen minutes were almost up, but then—

  Her cell phone beeped. She saw Gillian's number and gave Max a satisfied nod. "Hello," she said, hoping for the best but expecting the worst. What if Gillian Bradley wouldn't help?

  "There are many ways to handle this," Gillian said, "But I think the best is for me to meet you in Albuquerque. When will you be arriving?"

  Amanda told her. They were scheduled to arrive there that evening.

  "Have you found a hotel?" Gillian asked.

  Amanda gave her that information.

  "I have a friend, a TV producer, who has access to a charter service and a private jet. I'll make reservations at the hotel."

  "You don't know how much I appreciate this!"

  "It's what I do, Amanda. I want you to bring some things of Shara's—clothes, jewelry, maybe a pair of shoes, and a picture, perhaps one of when she was small and one of her now. Can you do that?"

  "Of course, I can."

  "Let me give you my cell number. Is the phone you've been calling me on your cell?"

  Gillian covered all the bases and Amanda was glad for that because she was feeling scattered. "Yes."

  "Good. Give me a call after you arrive so we can meet up. Does that work for you?"

  "That works perfectly. Thank you."

  "No thanks necessary. Your daughter's case and my inability to help you has been a regret I haven't been able to forget. I'll see you soon."

  As she ended the call, Amanda said a fervent prayer that Gillian would be able to help them this time.

  ****

  Chapter Seven

  For some reason as Amanda walked through Albuquerque International Sunport with Max, she began to feel less depressed. The airport was one of the most artistic and pleasant airports she'd ever been in. Southwest colors, the tile, sculpture hanging from the ceiling and the artwork all around lifted her spirits. She and Max hadn't talked much at all on the drive to BWI airport, on the first flight to Dallas, on the second flight to Albuquerque. Max always withdrew when he was thinking or upset or nervous. She liked to talk everything to death. At first that had worked well for them. She drew him out, encouraged him to listen. She'd learned to read body language rather than words, to look into his eyes and learn his truth. They'd even enjoyed silent communication because they'd known each other's hearts and souls.

  But now they avoided each other's gazes as they took the shuttle to the rental car facility, as she insisted on taking care of her own bag. They rented a mid-sized sedan with a GPS and Amanda figured out how to enter the hotel's address into it as Max headed in the right direction. He'd always been good at the logistics of traveling.

  At the hotel, they didn't need a bellboy to handle their luggage with only two roll-ons. Amanda knew how to pack light for her antique buying trips. So Max opened the door with his keycard and they entered a small suite.

  "You can have the bedroom." Motioning to the sitting area with its sofa, chair and TV, he said, "I'll sleep on the pull out."

  She wasn't going to argue with him. He was in that kind of mood.

  There was a balcony off the living room area with sliding glass doors that led outside. After she rolled her suitcase into her bedroom and lifted it onto the bed, she took out her cell phone and seemed to gravitate toward that outside terrace. Opening the door, she stepped outside and was greeted by the most beautiful sight in the distance, the Sandia Mountains. They looked pink in the end-of-the-day sunlight as dusk was closing in. Already she liked this city, without knowing exactly why. If she told Max how she felt, he'd scoff. So as she had over the past years, she kept her thoughts to herself as she called Gillian's number. Five minutes later she reluctantly walked back inside. Max was already putting on a pot of coffee to brew.

  "Are you hungry?" he asked.

  "Gillian will be here in five minutes. We don't have time to eat."

  He motioned to the complimentary snacks on the counter. "There are some power bars there. That might hold you over until we can call room service, or grab something in a restaurant."

  "I'm not—"

  "Don't say it, Amanda. I know you don't want to eat when you're upset. But you have to. You have to keep up your strength for whatever happens next."

  Always the pragmatist.

  As if he could read her thoughts, he said, "What else can I do but be practical? We're about to meet with a psychic. I need something to balance that."

  She almost smiled a little...almost.

  Max hefted his suitcase onto the luggage holder near the closet. He'd brought a larger one to fit in everything they'd thrown in of Shara's. Amanda had insisted on bringing more rather than less, intending to help Gillian in whatever way she could.

  When there was a rap at the door, she went to answer it. After she looked through the peephole, she recognized the woman she'd met with so hopefully before.

  Gillian was in her thirties, with light brown hair. She was slim, wearing jeans, a T-shirt and sandals. Amanda opened the door wide to let her come in.

  After she did, Gillian shook both their hands and said, "I'm sorry we have to meet again under these circumstances." Max remained silent as Amanda gestured to the sitting area.

  Once Gillian was seated, Max asked gruffly, "What do we have to do this time?"

  Gillian looked at him kindly and motioned to the sofa cushions beside her. "Why don't you sit and we'll talk about Shara."

  "I don't know what good talking is going to do," he muttered.

  Amanda knew what he was thinking. Th
e last time they'd met with Gillian, they'd talked about Lynnie and that hadn't helped. But Gillian insisted, "Talking will give me a sense of her, of your feelings towards her, hers towards you. You said her mother's waiting for word from her at home?"

  "I called her as soon as we landed," Amanda said. "No word there. The detective talked to Shara's boyfriend, but he claimed he didn't know anything."

  Amanda and Max sat on the long sofa with Gillian beside Amanda. Amanda was so aware of her ex-husband beside her, the brush of his jeans against hers, the scent of his after-shave, his broad shoulder almost lodged against hers. Some men as they aged became less of themselves, but Max had become more—more fit, more healthy, more stoic. There was nothing she could do about that last one.

  Amanda reached to the coffee table for her purse and pulled a few 4x6 photos from it. She handed them to Gillian. "I thought these would be better than some school photo."

  One by one, Gillian studied them. In one photo, Shara stood beside an old-fashioned wooden coat rack with a fedora on her head. "That's in my shop," Amanda explained. "We found the hat in a box with some vintage clothes. She liked it and I told her she could have it."

  "Maybe she doesn't need to know all that," Max muttered.

  "The more information I have, the better."

  Max went silent.

  Gillian looked at the next photograph. Amanda had caught this shot of Clare and Shara in Clare's car. That day she was going for her driver's test. Shara had been so excited and trying not to show it.

  "Did you go with them that day?" Max asked.

  "I did because I insisted they'd both need moral support."

  "I didn't even know she'd taken her test."

  Amanda wanted to ask—Whose fault is that?—but she didn't. She didn't want to start an argument, especially not in front of Gillian. In the last photo, Shara was sitting in an Adirondack chair in her backyard wearing a bathing suit, not the same bathing suit that she'd worn in those pictures on Branches.

  "She's a beautiful young woman," Gillian said. She ran her fingers over Shara's face in each of the photos, and Amanda felt as if she were holding her breath.

  "She's not as free-spirited as she wants everyone to think she is," Gillian mused, "Though she's definitely impulsive."

  "Yes, she is," Amanda agreed. "She says it's because she knows what she wants and knows what she thinks. But I believe she just hasn't learned to weigh decisions before she acts."

  "Let me see what you brought of hers," Gillian suggested.

  Max handed over the grocery bag he'd removed from his suitcase, and one by one Amanda pulled out the items—a pair of old sneakers, a Ravens' sweatshirt, a pair of denim shorts, a taupe camisole, a school notebook. From a side pocket in her purse, Amanda withdrew a beaded bracelet and a pair of swingy turquoise earrings. She laid them on the coffee table, not knowing what Gillian would want to do with any of it.

  Gillian's cell phone rang. It was easy to see Max was annoyed as she pulled it out of her pocket. Checking Caller ID, she took the call with a brief "excuse me" to Amanda and Max.

  "Hi, Jake," Amanda heard and realized Gillian was talking to her partner.

  "Yes, I understand. That's what we expected. Okay, I know you will. In the meantime, I'll see what I can do. Give my love to Sara and Christopher." Turning back to Amanda and Max, she said, "Sorry for the interruption."

  "Doesn't taking calls interfere with what you do?" Max asked.

  "Max," Amanda chided.

  "Its okay, Amanda. Normally I would have put my phone on vibrate, but I was waiting for that call. It was my partner, Jake Donovan. The e-mail address for this Justin is untraceable, at least for now. Apparently the service he uses reroutes it through foreign countries."

  "That's what my paralegal said, too," Max said under his breath.

  "So let's concentrate on what we can do next."

  Gillian took each item they'd brought, held it for a while and considered it. With the earrings, she closed her eyes. Amanda wondered if that's because jewelry was more personal and maybe had a better connection. She wanted to ask because what Gillian did fascinated her, but she didn't want to break any kind of tenuous thread. She didn't want to annoy Max more. She didn't want to postpone whatever Gillian might have to tell them.

  When Gillian picked up the bracelet, her expression changed. It was only slight, but Amanda could read something there that hadn't been there before. Gillian closed her eyes again for a few seconds and, beside her, Amanda felt Max get restless. She could feel the tensing in his body. He was about to say something and she didn't want him to, so she pressed her hand to his knee. The jolt of awareness that ran through her arm must have shown in her eyes because his widened in response, too. Couldn't be chemistry, could it? Not after all these years. But there was no doubt she was still attracted to Max. No doubt you couldn't snuff out that kind of attraction easily.

  Her touch must have surprised him enough to keep him quiet because his mouth stayed in that very straight line.

  Gillian said, "Shara likes jewelry."

  "All girls her age like jewelry," Max scoffed, as if he believed this were a cold reading at a Las Vegas show.

  His outburst didn't perturb Gillian, though. "Something about Sleeping Beauty turquoise." It was easy to see that the earrings Amanda had brought along were turquoise, and she saw the doubtful clouds grow stormier in Max's eyes.

  "Did she ever make jewelry?" Gillian asked.

  "No," Amanda said, "Not as far as I know. But I could call Clare and ask."

  Gillian shook her head and said, "Let me see where this leads."

  Amanda could tell from Max's expression he thought it would lead to the road to nowhere.

  Taking the earrings into her hand once more, she ran her thumbs over the wires. Was the DNA on those wires telling her something? Was that what this was all about? Through Shara's DNA, Gillian could sense her?

  When Max shifted on the sofa, Amanda gave him another look that told him she expected him to go along with this. She expected him to go along with whatever clues Gillian came up with.

  Gillian opened her eyes and shifted her attention to the two of them. "I believe I told you when you met with me before that what I do isn't instantaneous. It's not like I'm a GPS that guides you to where Shara is. But I can tell you what I'm sensing."

  "If you can sense anything, that means she's okay, right?" Amanda so wanted to believe that.

  "I can't tell you for sure. What I can tell you is that I'm not getting any indication that Shara is bound or tied up or anything violent has happened to her."

  "I hear a but in there," Max said perceptively.

  "But … she is scared."

  "Scared to come home again?" Amanda asked.

  "Scared on many levels. I don't think she's sure she did the right thing, and I also feel—" Gillian stopped. "Never mind about that. We'll pursue that later. But crafting jewelry is foremost in her mind, maybe because she's trying to push some of the other things away."

  "She came to Albuquerque to make jewelry?"

  "No, she came to be with Justin," Gillian responded. "I'm also sensing one word very strongly—Zuni."

  "That could mean anything out here," Max said.

  "Let's figure out what it could mean," Gillian answered back. "List the possibilities and we'll take them one by one."

  He looked at her strangely, but then he complied. "Zuni is a tribe. Even I know that. Do they possibly have land around here?" he asked.

  "There's a pueblo about a hundred and fifty miles west of Albuquerque, but I'm not sensing that Shara's in that kind of isolation."

  "So you're going to dismiss that?"

  "For now, let's explore other possibilities."

  "Zuni is a style of jewelry," Amanda said.

  "Yes, it is," Gillian agreed. "There is another possibility. Zuni could be the name of a street or an apartment complex. Let me explain. I found someone not so long ago because of a pair of twin pines. They stood near an arch th
at led to Twin Pines Ranch. Do you understand the association?"

  "So we need a map of Albuquerque to see if there's a Zuni street or something like that." Amanda pulled out her phone. So did Max.

  "This is like looking for a needle in a haystack," Max exclaimed.

  "And Albuquerque's one big haystack," Amanda agreed.

  Gillian's phone rang again. This time Max didn't look annoyed, but expectant.

  "What do you have Jake?" she asked her partner.

  "His name is Justin Davis," she said in order for them to hear, too. "I’m going to put you on speaker phone."

  "Can you hear me?" Jake asked.

  "Yes, loud and clear."

  "I'm Max, the grandfather. How did you get his name?"

  "I have a friend of a friend in Branches. Networking is everything in this business."

  "What's next?" Max shot back.

  "I'm going to search public records to see if he's bought property in Albuquerque, but my guess is, a joker like this rents."

  "Rents what?"

  "A house, an apartment, a condo. You can bet Shara's probably not the first young woman he's invited to join him, so he's going to careful. He might not want any public records showing his name on them."

  "Then how are we going to find him?" Max asked, exasperated.

  "With a combination of Gillian's gift and some good old-fashioned detective work. This could take a little time."

  "I don't know if we have time," Max warned him.

  "Gillian, what's your sense of this?" Jake asked his partner.

  "You know I can't be sure, but my feeling is Shara flew out here a few hours ago. If he really does just want to befriend her, then she's settling in. And even if he doesn't, he'll give her a little time to adjust before making his pitch, whatever that is. Don't you think?"

  "You're right on, as always."

  "I don't suppose Justin Davis is listed in any of the phone directories?" Max asked.

  "Are you kidding?" Jake scoffed. "I'm sure he has a burner phone or two."

  "A burner phone?" Amanda asked.

  "One of those throw-aways with no contract. You use the minutes, then you're done."