Naomi pushed inside, and Rowan followed, grateful for the dim interior after the bright mid-day light.
The store was small, with a single clerk behind the counter who nodded at Naomi when she stepped inside.
Rowan drifted toward the end of an aisle while Naomi handled what she’d come for. Rowan kept her head angled down and her sunglasses on despite being inside.
A television mounted in the corner above the register played a news program, the sound low but audible.
Rowan wasn’t paying attention to it until she heard her name.
She looked up.
Vince Furlough filled the screen behind the pharmacy counter—silver-haired and impeccably put together. He’d spent decades learning exactly how to look trustworthy on camera.
He was seated across from an interviewer in what appeared to be his own office, relaxed and unhurried, his hands folded in his lap.
The chyron along the bottom read:CELEBRITY DISPATCH EXCLUSIVE—Director Vince Furlough speaks out on missing actress Rowan King.
Her own photo appeared in the corner of the screen. Recent. Too recent.
“I’m genuinely concerned,” Vince was saying. “Rowan is enormously talented. She has been from the beginning. But the weeks leading up to her disappearance were . . . difficult. For her. For the production. I just hope she’s somewhere safe, getting the support she needs.”
The interviewer leaned forward. “There are reports of erratic behavior on set?—”
“I don’t want to speak to specifics.” Vince raised one hand, appearing magnanimous and restrained. “That wouldn’t be fair to Rowan. What I will say is that this industry asks a great deal of people. Sometimes too much.” He paused again. “I care about her. I think everyone who worked with her does. We just want her to come home.”
Rowan stared at the screen.
She recognized every word for exactly what it was—each careful phrase a brushstroke in a portrait he was painting of her. Fragile. Unstable. Someone to be pitied rather than believed. And he’d done it without saying a single thing that could be directly challenged.
She glanced at Naomi, wondering if she’d noticed.
But her sister was too busy making goofy faces at Grace.
She released her breath. Maybe Naomi wouldn’t see. Not now.
However, she knew it was just a matter of time.
From where she stood, Rowan couldn’t make out every word the reporter said, but she caught enough.
Sources close to the production describe increasing tension on the set . . .
Colleagues express concern . . .
Whereabouts currently unknown . . .
The media wasn’t going to drop this, were they?
Rowan had thought she’d have more time. But everything had happened so fast.
Now she had decisions to make.
CHAPTER 14
The clerk glancedat the screen, then at Rowan.
Rowan turned, putting her shoulder to the television, her pulse ticking faster.
Finally, the clerk looked back down at the counter.
