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September hated withholding details about Claire's missing daughter from Combs. She sympathized with the woman, but she couldn't help directly. Hooking her up with the private investigator salved her guilt.
Claire reentered the study that doubled as September's music room, dabbing her face with a clean hand towel. "Thanks for letting me freshen up, and for helping me find Tracy. And Lenny, too. I promised to keep Elaine updated." Her smile hinted at the attractive young woman beneath the frazzled worry.
Bracing herself for an argument, September tried to let Claire down gently. "I want to help you, I really do."
"I read all the newspaper stories about how you found Steven after he got lost in that blizzard. And how that dog saved your life." Claire watched Shadow and took a seat on the nearby piano bench. “Tracy doesn’t have much time.” She leaned forward, elbows on her thighs. "You know this town, know the people, and have resources that I don't have.”
September had only a handful of connections and Claire’s refusal to inform the police cut out Combs. It still amazed her that Combs not only forgave her involvement in his mother's death last November, but also had become one of her dearest friends. Maybe even more than that.
September took a breath, cutting off that thought. "I still think you should call the police." She raised a hand to stop Claire’s protest. "Just tell them Lenny's a runaway, or it's a joyride gone on too long, or something. The police can put out a bulletin with the license plate. You have the number?"
"Sure. But I can't risk it." Claire balled her fists. "Believe me, I’ve thought everything through. If the police find Tracy before we do, they’ll call CPS and they’ll take my daughter away. You said you’d help.”
"I’ve contacted a private investigator to help."
"Oh." Claire bit her lip. "I thought you'd do this by yourself." Her voice rose, worry the constant undertone. "I can't afford some fancy investigator."
It wasn’t her problem. If she had any hope for a normal life, a future without the threat of flashbacks and panic attacks, she couldn't subject herself to constant reminders of the past.
"Claire, I appreciate your confidence in me, but I train dogs and cats, help solve behavior problems, and sometimes Shadow helps me find lost pets." September shook her head. "I don't find missing kids, that's not what I do. You need a professional for that."
"But you found Steven."
"He's my nephew. My sister begged me to help, I couldn't say no. And I got incredibly lucky." She leaned forward in the chair, elbows on her knees. "A private investigator—"
"I drove straight through the night to get here and you blow me off, won't even try?" Claire rose, a thunderous expression making her ugly. "You're a selfish, despicable person, September Day. You got called a hero, but what about Tracy and the other kids? You made the cost go up. If it wasn't for you, Tracy could still get her medicine. She'd be home safe." She breathed heavily, and impatiently swiped tears away.
September bowed her head. Claire and the other parents believed their own version of the truth. The fees would have gone up regardless, but Tracy and Lenny going missing added to the tragedy. "I'll pay for the P.I., but that's all I can do."
"That's right. You can afford to throw money at your problems. I read about your lottery winnings. Must be nice."
September hunched her shoulders. She couldn't save the world, and had enough trouble taking care of herself, despite what the public might think. The winnings had been enough to move home to Heartland, buy this house and renovate it, but medical costs—she owed it to Steven and her sister April—had depleted the balance substantially. That didn't matter, as long as she had a chance for a life now, one without drama.
She cleared her throat, fidgeting. “Do you have a place to stay?"
Claire sank back onto the piano bench, and dropped her face into her hands. "What am I going to do?"
September felt even more like a heel. "You're going to rest. Stay here. I can do that much, there's two extra bedrooms. You can't do anything until I hear from the P.I."
Claire, ready to collapse from nerves, exhaustion, and worry, could have been a lost child herself. "Thank you. I don't mean to be such a bitch; I know I'm asking a lot."
"You're a mom. I get it. And in my world, being a bitch isn't such a bad thing." September’s phone ping reminded her the day's busy schedule meant leaving Claire, a virtual stranger, alone in her house, and was surprised it didn’t bother her. Well, not much. In the past, the thought might have triggered a panic attack. She was better. Besides, with a little luck—and Claire deserved good karma—the promised help from Combs should quickly take Claire off her hands.
Claire yawned. "I am exhausted. But wired, too, you know? There must be something I can do."
"Keeping busy helps. Shadow and I have to go to a behavior consult." Before Claire got upset again, she explained. "We won't be gone long. What's your cell?" They traded phone numbers.
"Tracy took her iPad, and Lenny has a cell phone." Claire yawned again. "The voicemail is full from me and Elaine calling. I don't think it's on. Elaine said Lenny didn't take his charger so the phone may be dead. Both of them do better communicating digitally than verbally."
That sounded familiar. Steven used his iPad or computer almost constantly, a major complaint from Mom, who did the lion's share of caring for the boy these days. She wondered if that would work in Claire's favor. Maybe the P.I. could get the signal traced. She kept the thought to herself, not wanting to add false hope to Claire's already stretched nerves. She also needed to let Combs know about the pill distribution scheme without betraying Claire's confidence.
"While I grab a shower, why don't you put together information for the investigator?" September moved to her small desk and brought up the computer's word processor. "Make a list. What they're wearing, any unique habits, likes and dislikes or behaviors, the car license plate, email and phone number, online sites they frequent, anything and everything. I haven't a clue what could help, so don't leave anything out."
She left Claire busily typing away on the keyboard. Shadow followed her up the stairs and stood guard as September quickly showered and dressed. Macy made a point to apply full body rubs against her legs. "I know, you hate me washing off all your good cat smell, don't you, buddy?" He trilled, and led the way from the bathroom, pausing to nose-touch Shadow before galloping down the stairs.
The doorbell rang. Shadow raced to the front door and waited impatiently for September to join him. On the way, she peered into the nearby office to check on Claire. She had dozed off, head on the desk, and September put a finger to her lips, signaling Shadow to keep silent. That might be the only rest Claire got until they found Tracy.
A tall, lithe figure moved in front of the stained glass sidelights, but sparked no recognition. Shadow snuffled loudly at the bottom of the door, his tail an agitated metronome. His hackles rose and a low growl bubbled deep in his throat.
The bell rang again, followed by knuckles rapping on the door. "Hello?" An impatient voice called out. "Detective Combs sent me, said you need a P.I."
September’s shoulders unclenched. "Hold on, let me get the locks. Shadow, sit. Wait." He yawned loudly as she unlocked the several deadbolts. The door swung open, and September stared. The woman was drop-dead gorgeous, with doll-bright orange hair and a china complexion despite swollen blue eyes and runny nose.
"You must be September Day. You're surprised, I get that a lot." The woman dabbed her nose with a tissue. "My business associate got the request and passed it on to me. I'm Sunny Babcock." She noticed Shadow, and her smile widened. "Oh, what a handsome fellow. I adore dogs, have a couple of my own." She held out her gloved fist for a sniff. "What's your name, puppy?"
Shadow slicked back his ears, bared his teeth, and snarled.
