“Zhorzha, my dear,” he said. “I agree with Julia. There’s no need for you to be here. This must be a trying time for you and your family.”

Just like we couldn’t keep him out of the locker room, we couldn’t stop him from hugging and patting and squeezing us. He was the owner. I scrambled to zip my jeans before he swooped in for a hug that was way too close.

“I’m scheduled to work, right?” I said.

“But we never imagined you’d come. I already asked Kristi to cover for you.”

“Do they know anything?” Julia said. “I mean, do the police have any news for you? I heard they found her car. Is there—do you—”

“They don’t tell us anything except what’s on the news. And I’d rather work today,” I said. I got away from Lance, but he and Julia stared at me while I pulled my hair up and put my apron on. They could hug me all they wanted, but they hadn’t offered to pay me for not working.

“I went to Colorado earlier this week.” I usually waited for people to ask, but I wasn’t in the mood for subtle hints. “I kind of need to get rid of it. I could let you have an ounce for two hundred.”

Normally I got seventy for a quarter ounce, but I didn’t want to carry it around any longer than I had to. It was a good call, because by the time we opened for lunch, Lance had bought half an ounce, Julia’s boyfriend came by with enough cash for an ounce, and I sold half an ounce each to the other two servers. It wasn’t anything close to what I usually made, but at least it covered what I paid out, and it meant I wasn’t toting around felony-level quantities of weed.

The lunch rush was the lunch rush. Too many split checks and shitty tips, but I could get through it. I always got through it, even when I was in worse pain than I was in. I’d just picked up drinks for the double four-top in back when I saw the TV behind the bar out of the corner of my eye. Nebraska Body May Be Hostage the graphic on the screen said. The volume was off, and all I meant to do was ask Lance to turn up the sound, but I moved too fast.

A glass of iced tea tilted and I tried to get it back upright, but my hands were shaking. The glass went over the edge of my tray—the first dish I’d broken in ages—and once it fell, I couldn’t get the tray balanced. The newscaster was moving his lips and the graphic still said Nebraska Body May Be Hostage.

I tried to level the tray with my other hand, but the whole thing went sideways, and I dumped four Pepsis and a Sierra Mist on the floor after the iced tea.

I couldn’t move. I felt like if I didn’t do anything, none of it would be true. I’d be frozen there forever, but I’d never have to know.

“Zhorzha!” Lance shouted.

“Can you turn that up? The TV—will you turn it up?” I said.

By the time he got the remote, it was too late. They’d already gone to a different story. Somebody was dead, maybe my sister was dead, and it was only worth sixty seconds on the news. I was standing in the middle of a bunch of broken glass and everyone in the bar area was staring at me. I should have started cleaning it up, but I took out my phone and pulled up a news website.

“Julia, will you get this cleaned up, and get those drinks, since Zhorzha is busy with other things?” Lance said. He sounded pissed, but I had to know.

“It’s okay,” Julia said and started sweeping up the glass.

BREAKING NEWS: Body Found in Falls City, Nebraska. May be hostage from El Dorado prison escape. That was all I could find. No other details.

“I think you should go home,” Lance said.

I wanted to argue, because I still had bills to pay, but I could barely hold the phone steady enough to read it.

“Until things are less stressful for you,” Julia said.

Right then it felt like that would never happen, and whatever Julia meant, I knew what Lance meant. I was fired.

I went out to my car, still feeling shaky, and forced myself to do what I was supposed to do. I called Mom, hoping she wouldn’t answer, but she picked up on the second ring.

“Yes, I saw,” she said. “And it’s not LaReigne.”

“Did the police tell you it’s not her?”

“I don’t need the police to tell me. I would know. If it were her, I would know.”

“I think you should call what’s his name, Mansur. He left you his card. You should call him and—”

“I’m not calling him!” she yelled. For a minute, neither of us said anything, but I could hear her panting, like she was going to have an asthma attack.

“Do you want me to come—”

“I’m telling you, it’s not her. You wouldn’t understand, but I’m her mother, and a mother knows. If my baby were dead, I would know.”

I let her have the last word, because there was nothing for me to say. After all, I wouldn’t understand. Besides, LaReigne was the one who got along with Mom. When Mom was upset, LaReigne calmed her down. When Mom was being stubborn, LaReigne talked her around. All Mom and I ever did was fight.

I went to the only place I had left to go: the Franks’ house. The woman who answered the door wasn’t Charlene, but she looked so much like her that she had to be her sister.

“You must be Gentry’s friend,” she said. “I’m his aunt Bernice.”

I followed her inside, where Charlene was at the kitchen bar. I could see she and Bernice must have been sitting there together talking, because there were two coffee mugs, and the TV was off. Charlene hadn’t been watching the news. She didn’t know.

“Hon, you don’t need to ring the bell,” Charlene said, when she saw me.

“I didn’t want to just barge in.” I’d worried I was taking advantage of Gentry’s family, but it was such a relief to walk into a calm and quiet house. Too quiet. Elana was there, working on a coloring book at a tabletop set up across her wheelchair.

“Barge all you want. A closed door never stops Bernice.”

Bernice swatted Charlene’s arm and they laughed at each other.

“How was Marcus today?” I said, but what I meant was where was he?

“He was mostly fine. A few tears at lunch, but a nap put him back to rights. The boys are in the backyard, if you want to go out,” Charlene said.

More than anything I wanted to see Marcus and make sure he was okay. In the yard, he was holding a little wooden sword and shield. He had on a chain mail shirt that came down to his knees, and on either side of him stood Gentry and Trang. Their swords were wood, too, but other than that, they were done up like something out of a movie. Big shields and all kinds of armor plates on their arms and legs. Trang’s armor was mismatched pieces, but Gentry’s was black and silver, top to bottom. In the grass next to them were their helmets, like a pair of metal buckets.