After She's Gone (West Coast #3)

Have a cancellation. Call me.

Really? After all her talk about being booked to eternity and back again? Nonetheless, Cassie immediately phoned her.

Laura picked up on the third ring. “Can you believe it?” she said, and it was obvious she was angry, almost incensed. “This woman . . . she’s a client of one of my stylists. A real big deal around here and she . . . she has the gall to cancel the day before!” Acrimony was mingled with disgust in her voice. As Laura was a makeup artist to the stars, few people dared change an appointment once it was made. Even with one of her underlings. “Sorry . . . You said you needed a trim and you’ll still be in town tomorrow morning, is that right?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Well, can you come in at nine? I cannot tell you how pissed I am.”

Before Laura could go off on another rant, Cassie said, “I’ll be there.”

She rattled off the address and Cassie hung up. She had to start packing, figuring out what she was taking with her, how long she would stay. Her plans weren’t to live in Oregon, at least not permanently.

Her life was down here.

Or was it?

As a writer, she could set up shop anywhere. With wireless connections and the Internet, she didn’t have to be in LA to be close to the industry, to do her job. She could keep this apartment another month or two, and maybe once Allie was found, Cassie would have more direction in her life. She hoped so. She packed one roller bag and left it by the front door, took a break by zapping the tacos for a few seconds in the microwave, then plopped onto a barstool at the counter separating the kitchen from the dining area.

She’d just gingerly opened the wrap from around her first taco when her phone rang. She glanced at the screen. It was her father. Great. Obviously he’d gotten the word that she was out of the hospital and in the area. She considered not answering, told herself she was a horrible daughter, and guilted herself into taking the call.

“Cassie!” her father bellowed as she answered. “You’re in LA? And you didn’t phone or text or whatever?”

“Not yet.”

“You were going to let me know you were in town?”

Guilt became a knife that sliced deep. “Probably. Sure.” Eventually.

“So how are you feeling? Would you like to come over? Or . . . I’d love to take you out. I’m busy tonight, important clients, but maybe sometime next week?”

“I’m leaving in the morning.”

“But you just got here, right? I mean your mom called me and said you’d checked yourself out of the hospital and flown down here.”

“I want to find out what happened to Allie.” She didn’t even ask if he’d heard anything about his daughter because surely he would have mentioned it. Robert Kramer wasn’t one to hold back.

“I know,” he said soberly, genuine sadness in his voice.

She pictured him in her mind’s eye, his once-thick hair thinning, his waist thickening, his face freckled from hours in the sun playing golf. She knew he loved her and Allie, always had. She also realized that he wouldn’t be afraid to make a buck off either of his daughters in the film industry.

“But I was asking about you.”

“I’m fine,” she lied. Would she ever be? And why couldn’t she trust her father enough to admit she was a mess? “Hey,” she said as a thought crossed her mind. “Do you know if Allie was ever in New Mexico? Santa Fe? Maybe around 2007?”

“New Mexico? No . . . or did she go to a doctor there?”

“Why would she go to a doctor in Santa Fe when she lived in LA?”

“Privacy.”

Cassie’s ears pricked up. “For what?” A baby? Had she been pregnant and was hiding it, didn’t want anyone to know?

“A little nip or tuck.”

“Allie? She’s perfect.” And young. She would have been far too young for any kind of plastic surgery. No, her father had to be mistaken. It didn’t make sense.

“I’m not sure I’m even right,” he said. “Maybe it was Phoenix. And 2007 doesn’t sound right either. More like a year ago.”

That didn’t help. “Did she have any connection in Santa Fe? A friend or some kind of business?”