“I’m gonna kill her, Wes,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

“What’s the big deal? You’re a family of entertainers, aren’t you? It makes sense that your little sister would be trying out for parts and stuff,” he replies, shrugging behind the steering wheel. He glances over at me and I glare at him.

“You don’t understand,” I shoot back, shaking my head. “Andie is… vulnerable. She’s smart, but too optimistic. She only sees the good in everyone and she doesn’t plan things very well. I mean, she’s only eighteen. She can’t be expected to make good life choices at that age.”

Wes snorts and I look at him angrily. “What was that for?” I snap.

“Nothing. Just the fact that you’re a massive hypocrite. That’s all,” he replies smoothly.

I can feel my rage reaching a boiling point inside me.

“A hypocrite? How dare you? I’m just trying to look out for my sister, who just happens to be my best friend and the most important person in my life,” I retort.

“Weren’t you acting in big movies at her age?” Wes points out, unaffected by my anger, which only serves to make me even angrier.

“Yeah,” I answer, folding my arms over my chest. “So fucking what?”

“If you could do it, why can’t she?” he asks, looking at me sidelong.

I sigh. “Because I know what kind of effect that shit can have on your life. I remember what it felt like, being so young and away from home, cutting business deals, being under much more intense scrutiny than I was used to-- and that’s saying a lot considering the last name I grew up with. The thing is, the reason I don’t want her to do this is because I did it. I lived that life. And yes, it did go fairly smoothly for a while. But only because I got super lucky, and because I am a paranoid, perfectionist person who looks after herself. It was only when I got complacent and too trusting that Eddie was able to swoop in and screw things up for me,” I explain. “And you don’t know Andie. She’s not like me. She doesn’t question everything like I do. She doesn’t plan for the worst. She hopes for the best and leaves it at that. And in this industry, that’s a liability. A handicap. That is why this pisses me off so much. I’m scared for her.”

“It’s not your place to decide for her, though,” Wes says, his voice softer and more patient this time. “Like you said, she is eighteen. It’s her life, Molly. If you don’t let her make mistakes on her own, she will never learn from them.”

“I get that reasoning. I really do. And trust me, if she really, really wanted to do this, I would support her. As long as she was careful. But the fact that she decided to go for an audition right now, while I’m caught up in this awful bullshit with Eddie-- that tells me she’s not being careful at all. She’s just free-falling,” I lament, tears burning in my eyes. “And nobody is there to catch her.”

Wes reaches across the console to take my hand and give it a squeeze. “We are going to catch her. Okay? You may be my client, but Andie is your family, and I am not about to let this slide. We’ll find her. I swear.”

I raise his hand to my lips and kiss it softly. “Okay. Thank you,” I answer quietly.

The whole ride to Goldschmidt’s office complex, I fiddle with the burner phone. Every time I open the screen and see it still blank, the little text message icon empty, my heart sinks a little further. I wish I could just hear from her. Something. Anything. Just one word to tell me she’s okay or at least alive. I know I shouldn’t jump to any horrible conclusions, but I just can’t help but feel like something is seriously wrong.

“You holding up okay there?” Wes asks.

I nod and wipe my eyes, mad at myself for getting all weepy. I need to be strong right now. Keep myself together. For Andie.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I just… can’t stop thinking of the worst-case scenario,” I admit, surprised at myself for opening up like this. “Ever since we were little, Andie and I were almost more like twins than just sisters. We have this connection-- I don’t know if you could call it psychic or magic or whatever. But whenever one of us is upset, I swear, the other can feel it. One time, when I went to camp as a little girl, Andie had to stay home because she wasn’t old enough to go yet. At camp, they had this huge pool. I was, I don’t know, eight years old, maybe? It was a really hot afternoon. Over a hundred degrees, I’m sure. We were having a pool party, kids swimming around, jumping off the diving board, down the water slide. All that jazz. But I could only swim with those little floaties you wear on your arms, you know? And I’d left them back at the cabin on accident, so I was just sitting on the edge of the pool with my feet in the water.

“Well, apparently, unbeknownst to me, some of the older kids had figured out who my parents were. They were jealous, I guess, or maybe they just wanted to find someone who was different, easy to single out. You know how kids are. They’re awful at that age,” I add, shaking my head. Wes waits for me to go on. I take a deep breath. “So, I’m sitting on the edge of the pool just hanging out, feeling a little down that I can’t swim with the rest of the kids, when suddenly these two older boys come strolling over to me in their stupid dinosaur-print swim trunks. I remember it all so vividly. They asked me if I lived in a big castle in Hollywood and I told them no, of course, I live in a house. I was so confused. Couldn’t think of a single reason why these two boys would be talking to me. They weren’t from my side of the camp. I’d never met them before. They just kept asking me questions about my family. How much money we had. What kind of car my dad drove. And I guess they found out just enough information about me to hate me, because then they each grabbed one of my arms, lifted me up, and tossed me into the deep end of the pool.”

“Holy shit!” Wes gasps, looking at me with his blue eyes wide.

I nod. “Yeah. I sank like a stone. It was one of those Olympic-type pools. The deep end was probably ten, fifteen feet or something. There were so many kids splashing around in the water, I’m sure the lifeguard didn’t see me at first. I just sank and sank and I remember thinking, at eight years old, shit. I’m gonna die.”

“What happened?” he prompts me.

“Well, eventually one of the kids who tossed me in got cold feet and told the lifeguard I fell in. The lifeguard dove in after me and brought me back to the surface. He had to do CPR on me for like a full minute, apparently. When I came to, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to go home,” I tell him. “That very night, my dad drove all the way out to pick me up. Andie insisted on going with him even though it was probably one in the morning when he got there. Turns out, at the exact time I fell in the pool, Andie had an epic tantrum. Screaming, crying, throwing toys around, begging my parents to let her talk to me on the phone. My parents could only calm her down by promising to call me later. When they called the camp to ask to speak with me, the counselor filled my parents in on what happened that day at the pool, and of course, that’s when they decided I needed to just come home. Andie was only five at the time, so she doesn’t remember it, really. But my parents have told me the story a hundred times, probably. Me, drowning in the pool, and Andie having a massive meltdown at home at the exact same time, worried about her big sister,” I finish, a sentimental smile tugging at my lips.

“Damn,” Wes says. “That’s deep shit.”

I laugh gently. “Yeah. It is. And we’ve always been like that, even today. And right now, I can feel it. That uneasy feeling like something is wrong. I can’t shake it,” I say sadly.

“We’ll find her, Molly. It’ll be okay,” Wes assures me, but I can’t quite believe him. “I am wondering, though… would his office even be open the day after Christmas?”

“Oh yeah. I know Goldschmidt through the grapevine. I think we actually met once or twice at a wrap party. He’s Jewish. He’ll be open over Christmas,” I explain quickly.

Soon, we pull up to the office with the name GOLDSCHMIDT emblazoned on the front in, fittingly, gold lettering. I’m out of the car and walking briskly toward the front door before the car even stops rolling. Wes hastily parks and runs after me, grabbing my arm and making me slow down. “Hey, hey,” he says. “Calm down. If you go in there looking a bull seeing red, you’ll tip ‘em off.”

“Tip them off?” I repeat, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t give a fuck what these people think of me, Wes. They have my sister.”

“Right, I know. But just play it cool. If they sense something is up, they’ll be less likely to give us the information we need,” he insists. I force myself to relax my shoulders and chill the hell out, even though what I want to do is march in, slam my fist on the counter, and demand to see my sister.

We walk through the glossy automatic glass doors and stroll up to a front desk where a secretary is quietly waiting, staring at a computer screen. She looks up at us with doe eyes and asks, “Hello, how can I help you? Do you have an appointment with Mr. Goldschmidt?”

I open my mouth to speak but can’t think of a good answer. Wes steps in.

“Yes. We’re his three o’clock,” he says solidly.

The secretary cocks her head to one side, looking very suspicious. “His three o’clock canceled about an hour ago,” she says.

“Hi,” I speak up, giving her my most cover-girl smile. “My name is Molly Parker. I think my assistant must have accidentally canceled the appointment, but we’re here now.”

She looks back and forth between us a couple times, clearly trying to determine whether she’ll be in more trouble for letting us through or for turning away a star like me. Apparently, the second option scares her more. She gives us a polite smile and stands up. “Of course. I’ll take you back to his office. Follow me, please.”

As we fall in step behind her, Wes and I exchange bemused expressions. This is definitely one perk of having a famous name and a famous face: I can open doors that are closed to most people. The secretary takes us back through a long corridor and then presses a buzzer outside a door with a frosted glass pane.

“Mr. Goldschmidt, there seems to have been a miscommunication about the cancellation. Your three o’clock is here… a little early,” she adds, biting her lip.

There’s a pause, and then he replies through the speaker: “Send them in.”

The secretary opens the door for us and then heads back toward the front desk. Wes and I step inside, close the door quickly, and then walk over to sit in the big leather chairs in front of Goldschmidt’s desk. His eyes widen at the sight of me and he starts to reach for the phone, probably to call security. I have a strong feeling Wes and I look nothing like his three o’clock.

“Don’t,” Wes says, pointing to the phone in the agent’s hand. He freezes, looking at me with worried eyes.

“Molly Parker?” he asks, obviously confused. I see him reaching slowly under his desk.

I nod. “Yes. And if you don’t press that security button under your desk I will owe you a big-ass favor.”

Wincing as he realizes he’s been caught, Goldschmidt folds his hands together on top of his desk, leaning forward. “Fair enough. So, how can I help you?”

“Oh, like you don’t know exactly why I’m here,” I snap.

“Actually, I’m very surprised to see you around here… considering,” he replies.

Wes steps forward. “What do you mean? Considering what?”

“Are you going to make me spell it out? I’m talking about that nasty business with Eddie Arnold. Seems strange that you would come here, of all places, in your situation.”

Something cools off inside me. These aren’t the words of a guilty man.

“You know about that,” I murmur. He nods.

“Of course, I do. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Goldschmidt asks.

“No. I’m here about my sister, Andie. You were the last person to talk to her before she went radio-silent on me. I know you’ve been working with her secretly,” I accuse.

He raises both eyebrows and leans back in the chair. “I respect the confidentiality of any client I may or may not be working with.”

“Listen, drop the wishy-washy lawyer bullshit,” Wes says forcefully.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

I stand up and put both my hands down on the desk. “Look, sir. Things are getting very tense with Eddie, and you and I both know it won’t look good for you if you get involved. I could tell anyone I was here, drop your name… I know you want to keep your hands clean.”

The agent glares at me for a long moment, then hangs his head and sighs. “Fine. Fine. Andie Parker reached out to me about auditioning for a part, wanted me to get her set up. I felt guilty about it, honestly, because it’s the kind of part you would be great for, Molly. But with everything happening between you and Eddie right now… well, obviously you’re out of bounds. And besides, Andie was so insistent. Determined. I’ve been working in this industry for a long time now, and I’m a pretty good judge of character. And I can tell you one thing for certain: Andie Parker feels like she has something to prove. She lives in her sister’s shadow.”

I feel my heart breaking. Is this… my fault?

Wes picks up the slack. “Thanks for the lecture, but we’re here to ask about something else. Where did she go after your meeting with her on Christmas Eve?”

Goldschmidt looks shocked and confused. “Christmas Eve… she didn’t show up for that meeting. She was never here that day.”

Wes and I look at each other, totally lost.

“What do you mean? Where was she?” I demand.

Goldschmidt holds his hands up. “Hell if I know. I don’t have a lowjack on her or anything. She’s my client, not my dog.”

“Is there anyone else who might have known about that meeting here?” Wes asks.

The agent thinks for a moment. “No. Just me and my secretary. And… well…”

“Well, what?” I prompt him impatiently.

Goldschmidt looks flighty, like he’s considering just turning around and climbing out the window, he’s so uncomfortable. “The only other person who has access to all our files and schedules is… well, Eddie Arnold.”

“What?!” Wes and I exclaim at the same time.

The agent shrugs slowly. “I thought you knew. This company is owned by Mr. Arnold. He has copies of everything, all our paperwork.”

I stare at Wes, my heart pounding away in my chest. If Eddie knew about the meeting, which just happened to be taking place the same day his men tried to kidnap me, and Andie never showed up…

Goldschmidt appears to pick up on the tension in the room and adds nervously, “I have a strong feeling that Mr. Arnold is about to found guilty of something I don’t want to be associated with, isn’t he?”

An idea occurs to me. “Yes. He is. But if you do me one big favor, I will swear under oath that you had nothing to do with this.”

Clearly on the same wavelength, Wes jumps in. “Your secretary answers to you alone, right? Then have her send you Eddie Arnold’s personal schedule.”