Atone (Recovered Innocence #2)(4)

“Her name is Marie Saint Claire, but they might have her in the system as Molly Johnston. We were taken from our mother and placed in the custody of Child Protective Services when I was three and she was about six months old. We have the same mother, but different fathers. She’s about to age out of the system at eighteen, and I want to find her before that happens. I had a lead that she might be in a group home in Santee, but that’s old information. I’m not sure where she is now.”

“We’ll need her birth date, your mother’s name and birthday, any information on her father you might have, and her Social Security number, if you know it.”

From my purse I pull out a sheet with all the info I have on my mother and sister and pass it Cora. “I don’t know her Social Security number, but I do have copy of her birth certificate.” I slide that over too. “There’s no father listed. Our mother wasn’t very…particular or careful. She liked the extra money she got to charge for going bareback.”

“Your mother may be of some help.” Cora doesn’t blink at the fact that my mother was a prostitute and didn’t have a clue who had fathered either one of her daughters. “Can we contact her?”

“Not unless you have a direct line to the hereafter. She was murdered about a year after we were put into the system.”

Beau does a slow blink, absorbing this info as though it confirms something for him about me.

“I’m so sorry,” Cora says.

I ignore her well-meaning sentiment. It’s wasted on that worthless piece of shit I get to call my mother. “This is the address of the group home Marie was in. I’m concerned about her. We used to communicate through social media, but she hasn’t logged in to any of her accounts for months.”

“Do you have a photo of your sister?”

I pull out the pictures I printed off her social media profile and give them to Cora. She glances at them and her eyebrows flinch. It’s the only reaction she’s had since we sat down. Marie doesn’t look like me. Her father was black or half black. Who knows? But her features and coloring are nothing like mine. She’s big-boned. I’m petite. Her skin is dark. Mine is freckly and pale. Her black hair is in dreadlocks in some of the photos and straightened in others. I lighten my bone-straight hair to a pale blond and wear it short, cropped over my ears. It’s nothing like how I used to wear it before. Back then I would’ve looked more like Cora’s sister than Marie’s.

Beau hasn’t looked away from me for a second, not even to check out Marie’s pictures. He hasn’t asked a single question even though I can see in his eyes that he has about a million of them. I don’t have any for him. Not a single one. I feel like I already know too much about him and yet not enough. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I have a single goal here, and it has nothing to do with the man sitting across from me. My sister is all I have left of whatever family I might have had, and I’m terrified for her. I spent time in that group home and I know what she might have fallen into if she left it.

But I can’t tell Cora and Beau anything about that.

“Please help me find her.” I know I sound desperate. I am.

“We’ll do our best.”

I start at the sound of Beau’s voice. Cora seems equally startled as she swings her gaze away from me to her brother. This time the smile reaches all the way to his lips and my own mouth tilts up at the corners in response. He’s on my side. I’ve never had anyone take up for me. No one in any of the foster or group homes. Not even my own mother. I’m caught by the look in his eyes and what he communicates silently. He wants to champion my cause.

Cora’s head swivels back and forth between Beau and me. I wonder what she sees when she looks at us. Can she feel the pull? Does she understand what’s being said without words? Can she feel my barely suppressed panic? Does she know what that look on her brother’s face means? Because I don’t. I don’t understand what’s happening here, except that it scares the shit out of me. And Beau too. His eyebrows draw together and he suddenly looks away. I slide my chair back from the table and stand, needing some distance.

I pull the strap of my bag over my shoulder. “Thank you.”

Cora gets to her feet too, but it takes a moment for Beau to react. I head for the front door with Cora on my heels. I can’t get out of there fast enough.

“Your form and the retainer,” Cora reminds me.

“Oh, right.” Pausing in the open doorway, I dig out a cashier’s check and the client form they wanted me to fill out and hand them over.

“We’ll be in touch,” Cora says, accepting them.

“I look forward to hearing from you.” I don’t wait for her response and leave, walking to my car as quickly as possible.

Sliding behind the wheel, I glance up at the closed door of the agency. What have I done? I can’t do this. I should go in and get my check back, find a different PI agency to help me. I wanted the best, and Nash Security and Investigation was supposed to be the best. Anyone else I hire would just be second string. It would take time to find another agency. Time is the one thing I don’t have. Marie will be eighteen in a few months. I thought I could find her by myself, but I couldn’t do that without giving away who I really am. I can’t ever reveal that.

I think of Marie and where she might be right now. I lied when I told Cora that I was worried for her. I’m terrified. Thinking of her and imagining what she might be going through, I realize that I can put up with the strangeness between Beau and me if I have to. I can handle just about anything for my sister. If I can’t work around him, then I’ll just have to find a way to work with him. For Marie. I’d do anything to keep what happened to me from happening to her.