She hated that he was making this harder on her than it already was.
She wasn't even sure she was doing the right thing. Sam could be close, and in trouble. But it'd been two days since her daughter disappeared. Maybe Sam wasn't in Sacramento anymore; she could be anywhere.
Holding a stack of flyers, Zoe scanned the crowd, searching, just in case. She wasn't thinking coherently anymore; she'd been without sleep for too long.
Jonathan studied her for a moment, wearing a frown. "You look tired," he said.
She had her hair pulled back and was wearing some makeup, but she hadn't been able to conceal the dark circles under her eyes.
"Thanks," she muttered.
He didn't apologize. "Have you gotten any sleep since Sam went missing?"
Her smile felt so brittle she wondered why she bothered. "I can sleep once we find her."
Anton gave her a quick hug. "We'll get through this," he said tersely, but she got the impression he was trying to convince himself more than her.
His embrace didn't make her feel any better. It was too mechanical, too strained. And there were so many people. She had to check every face--the businessmen, the tourists, the families and all the children. Especially the children.
"Zoe?" Anton prompted.
She blinked, shifting her attention. "I'll call you later." She was acting almost robotic, but a more genuine response required thought and feeling, and she didn't want to break down. She had to carry on at all costs. For Sam.
He squeezed her arm and left without even speaking to Jonathan.
Embarrassed by the all-too-obvious slight, Zoe avoided the private investigator's gaze by turning to see the people behind her.
"Let's go," he said and started off.
She hurried to catch up and, when she did, almost slipped her hand in his. He'd seen devastation before. She'd gathered that from the world-weary mantle he always wore. He wouldn't rebuff her--because he understood. But it was a strange impulse for an engaged woman to have, especially with a man she'd barely met.
"I hope we'll be able to locate my dad." Feeling like a completely different person without Samantha, she moved through the crowd, wheeling her bag behind her. He looked down the line of people waiting to clear security. "We'll give it our best shot."
"How did you get my ticket?" Belatedly, she realized that this wasn't the way air travel worked in the age of terrorism. "Didn't you need my ID?"
"I talked to a skycap."
"So?"
"I told him you forgot your ID and had him print your boarding pass along with mine."
"They'll do that?"
"Depends on their level of motivation."
Which he'd obviously enhanced, much to her chagrin. She'd spent a thousand dollars on the flyers. Who knew what other expenses she'd incur?
This trip wouldn't be cheap. And she and Anton fought about money more than anything else.
She swallowed hard. "How much do I owe you?"
He glanced back at her. "Nothing."
Pride warred with relief. "The Last Stand is paying for it?"
His lack of a response suggested it was. They were paying his bill and travel expenses, after all. That was what the charity was supposed to do for people like her, she told herself in order to feel better about accepting their help. But it rankled. She wanted to be self-sufficient. She'd had her fill of secondhand clothing and government handouts when she was a child, and again as a teenage mother.
"Be grateful you met Skye Willis and forget it," she muttered under her breath. Although she'd heard from Detective Thomas several times this morning and knew the police were assigning extra officers to look for Sam, Skye made it possible for her to be more involved in the search.
They reached the top of the escalator and joined a line snaking almost to the skywalk that straddled the street below. But Zoe was still puzzled about how Jonathan had managed to get her a boarding pass. "That guy who gave you my ticket--isn't that a breach of security?" she asked.
"Not really." He stepped out of line to gauge their progress. "They'll check your boarding pass against your ID here."
"You seem nervous."
"I don't want to miss this flight."
"What're the chances?"
"We're cutting it close."
Did they really need to take this trip? It was a logical move, but if her father could help it'd be the greatest irony ever. Ely had never been there for her when she needed him. And the prospect of seeing Ely didn't appeal to her in her current state. They'd had such a terrible argument the last time they'd talked on the phone. She wished she was stronger, better prepared for the inevitable confrontation.
You have no right to demand any kind of a relationship with Sam.
She's my granddaughter.
How can you say that to me? You didn't even want me to keep her!
I was trying to protect you.
It was a little late to protect me, don't you think? That should've happened before you left me alone with Franky Bates.
That barb had hit its target. She could remember her father's voice growing hoarse with emotion. You were too young to be saddled with the responsibility of a child.
Tell the truth, Dad. It wasn't about me. Nothing was ever about me.
You knew you'd continue to spend our grocery money on your next fix and didn't want the added guilt of taking food from a baby.
She'd been in her car alone, talking on her cell. Since that day, she'd often wished the conversation had taken place somewhere she wouldn't have been able to speak so freely. But the stress of starting a new job, regret for denying her daughter a trip Sam would love and anger that she couldn't trust her own father enough to allow it had all combined to put her on edge.
Jonathan's voice cut into her thoughts. "Do you have your ID ready?"
She fumbled through her purse, searching for her wallet, and showed her driver's license to a uniformed security officer. Then she put her bag on the conveyer belt along with her shoes, purse and sweater--but when her belongings went through the X-ray, she didn't move. She stood there, rooted to the spot, clutching the flyers to her chest while watching the people around her act as if nothing in the world was wrong.
Although she hated to draw attention to herself, she couldn't remain silent. What if someone here had spotted Sam?
Jonathan had already reclaimed his shoes when he glanced back and saw that she hadn't come through. Then his eyes lowered to her hands, gripping the flyers like a lifeline to Sam. "We'll miss the plane," he cautioned.
"I just want to put up her picture."
It was so important to Zoe she could hardly breathe, and he must've realized she wouldn't budge without doing at least that much, because he didn't fight her. Pulling a member of security aside, he bent his head and murmured a few words.