At least she had a track record. "That's great, Sharon."
Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she angled her head toward Jonathan. "Is this Anton? Your dad told me you have a new man. Someone who has his own business, no less. Someone respectable."
"No, not Anton."
Her grin widened. "You've traded up already?"
Zoe felt herself flush. "This isn't my boyfriend."
"But I do have my own business. Does that count?" Jonathan put in.
She gave him the once-over. "Not as much as what you've got beneath those clothes."
"Oh, God, don't provoke her," Zoe said.
"What do you mean?" Sharon retorted. "I'm just stating the obvious.
What healthy young woman wouldn't want a man like him in her bed?"
Zoe's cheeks grew even hotter. "He's a private investigator." Who was also one of the handsomest men Zoe had ever seen, so she could understand why Sharon might be impressed, but she preferred to keep that opinion to herself.
Sharon's flirtatious smile disappeared and her level of enthusiasm dropped by several chilly degrees. "So you are the one who called me."
"Yes," he said.
"What are you doing with a P.I.?" she asked, scowling at Zoe.
"Right now we're looking for my dad. Can you tell us where he is?"
She didn't respond.
"Sharon, this isn't about him. Sam's gone missing. That's why I'm here."
The ruddy color drained from her aging face. "Gone missing? What do you mean?"
"She was home sick from school, lying on a chaise in the backyard, and she just...disappeared."
Sharon pressed a hand to her heart. "When?"
"On Monday." Zoe was growing light-headed; she needed to eat.
"You don't think...I mean, I know my father's been asking to see her--"
"No! He'd never take Sam without your permission, never scare you like that," Sharon said.
"Have they been in communication?"
"No."
"No calls? No letters?"
"No, he's been in rehab, Zoe."
She froze. "Since when?"
"Almost a month ago."
"Then who's paying the bills around here?"
Sharon didn't answer immediately, which told Zoe it was exactly as she'd guessed. "You are, aren't you?"
"For the time being...."
Zoe shook her head. "Oh, Sharon."
"He's not using me."
"He's been in rehab before. What makes you think this is going to be any different?"
"Because it is. He was having a tough time of it--I'll be honest with you. Even after I got back, he kept relapsing and relapsing. But then I threatened to call you and report that he was back at it again, and that was all it took."
"Why didn't he try to tell me he was going into rehab?" she asked, using the wall to steady herself.
A flash of concern entered Jonathan's eyes as he watched her try to shake off the dizziness, but she ignored it in favor of focusing on Sharon's response.
"He was afraid you wouldn't believe him. He said he needs to prove it to you. Says he owes you that much." Tentative hope crept into her manner.
"And, with summer on the way, I think he was hoping you'd relent and let Sam stay with him for a few days. He talks about both of you constantly."
She waved toward the kitchen. "He has a jug of cash that he's been saving and he won't touch it. Not for anything. 'It's for Sam's trip to Disneyland,' he tells me."
Zoe couldn't listen to any more. How many times had she been through this? "How do you know he's still there?"
"I check up on him practically every day. And we write. He hasn't broken one rule. Not one." She smiled proudly. "More importantly, he hasn't given up. I know that because they have visiting hours on Tuesdays. I went to visit him yesterday."
"We have to call, just to be sure," Zoe said.
Jonathan pulled his BlackBerry from his pocket, but Sharon stopped him. "They won't give you any information, not unless they know who you are. Let me do it."
She punched in the numbers--and they waited, hardly breathing at all.
"It's gonna kill him to hear about Sam," she muttered.
Zoe snapped her fingers to get Sharon's full attention. "If he's there, don't tell him."
Sharon's eyes latched onto hers. "How can you not tell him that his only grandchild is missing?"
"Like you said, at his age it's now or never. He's where he needs to be." The dizziness intensified as she struggled to bear up under the confusing onslaught of emotions she felt about her father--gratitude for keeping her when her mother hadn't, disappointment in his other choices, worry, disgust, love. It seemed that her relationship with Ely was filled with extremes. "If we tell him about Sam..."
Zoe didn't finish. Someone had answered at the rehab place, and Sharon was nodding to let her know she understood. "Who's this?" she said into the mouthpiece.
There was a pause. "Hi, Doug. It's Sharon Thornton.... Good, you?...How's Ely doing today?"
"Great." She stared down at her slippers while she talked. "Glad to hear it.... No, no need to tell him I called. I'll write.... Thanks, we all do what we can.... You bet.... I know, not much longer."
She said goodbye and hit the End button.
"Well?" Zoe asked.
She handed Jonathan his phone. "He's still there. And he doesn't know a thing about Sam or he would've raised a fuss."
Zoe clutched Jonathan's arm, but when her fingers met with the contours of firm muscle and warm skin, she dropped her hand as if he'd burned her. "Sam's not with him. We've got to get back to Sacramento."
He didn't seem as relieved as she did. "Tomorrow morning," he said.
"Why tomorrow? If we head straight to the airport, we might be able to catch a flight this evening."
"We have to go to a hardware store so I can fix the door."
"I can have a friend take care of that," Sharon said, shooing them out.
"He's a retired carpenter, so a broken door's nothing. You go find Sam."
Zoe gave her a hug. "Thanks, Sharon."
"I'll keep an eye on your dad, let you know what happens. I hope--I hope you find Sam."
"I know." Zoe followed Jonathan out, catching his arm again as they reached the car. "So are we going home?"
"You are. I'll drive you to the airport."
"You're not coming with me?"
"I have one more stop."