Now I wonder if that was less of a joke and more the way my mom really felt: alone. My dadwashaving an affair. He was arguing with her abouthermoney. And then there was the fact that she’d grown up in that awful place, alone. At least my dad hadmy grandmother and Uncle Robert and Aunt Alice. My mom didn’t have any family. She hardly had any Facebook friends. In the end, she didn’t even have me.
I’m sorry to bother you again, Jules. But I really do need to talk.
Three dots flicker across the screen. Thank God.
Sorry, Cleo. Super busy at work. Will call as soon as I can!
Seriously? She’s toobusy?
I wanted to know whether you have ANY idea what might have happened to my mom?
Another set of ellipses appear, and then vanish.
I’m really worried, Jules. Please. I’m headed to the office now. I’ll see you there? I promise it will be quick.
I stare down at the phone, willing Jules to respond. A third set of ellipses flashes across the screen and then … nothing.
And now I am convinced—Jules knows something.
The lobby of my mom’s office building has thirty-foot ceilings, immaculate polished marble floors, and a fancy security desk. It’s even nicer than I remember—it’s been a few years. When I was little, I always jumped at the chance to go with her to work. And I’d loved every second of being there, watching my mom do her thing. Being with her, period. It’s amazing how easily I forget about that. But wewerethat close when I was younger. Sure, my dad was always better at the messy fun and games, even back then, but I adored my mom. She was my person.
“Can I help you?” the security guard behind the desk demands before I’ve even reached him. He eyeballs me like maybe I’m there to rifle through people’s purses.
“My mom is a partner at Blair, Stevenson,” I offer.
“And who’s your mother?” He looks doubtful I have a mother, much less one who works at such a fancy law firm. He’s even picked up the phone in a way that suggests he’s literally trying to call my bluff.
“No, no, she’s not here. Because she’s missing. She’s an official missing person. Her name is Katrina McHugh. The police know. It’s a serious situation.” I’m going for sympathy, which, from his scowl, doesn’t exactly seem to be working. “But I need to speak with her assistant. Her name is Jules Kovacis.”
“Mmm.” He looks down at his old-school watch, then brings the phone to his ear. “Most support staff is at lunch until two.”
He twitches a little and leans forward when someone answers right away. “Ah, yes, I have a Cleo McHugh down here. She wants to speak with a Jules Kovacis about a Katrina McHugh.” His eyes flick up to mine. “Oh. Well, okay. I’ll send her right up, then.” He points without looking at me again. “Last elevator on the right. Floor forty-six.”
An older woman with an angular face and a silver bob is standing in the hall when the elevator doors open. She is not Jules.
“Cleo?” she asks, as if she’s not sure. When I nod, she steps forward and hugs me like we know each other. Her hair smells of lavender and vanilla and her arms are warm. I don’t want to let her go. “I’m Diana Perlstein. Head of Human Resources. We’re all so sorry about your mom.”
“Thanks,” I say into her silver hair.
She releases me, hands still on my upper arms as she looks me in the eyes. “Your mom is going to be fine, Cleo. Just fine.”
“I know.” I press my lips together as that now familiar burn rises in my throat. I really wish people would stop saying shit like that when they have absolutely no idea whether it’s true. “Uh, where’s Jules?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Jules isn’t here.” She smiles, sort of. It’s actually more of a grimace.
“Do you know when she’ll be back?” I’m trying not to seem annoyed. But the guy downstairs could have told me that and saved me the trip.
Diana Perlstein sucks some air in through her very even, very white teeth. “I’m sorry, but Jules is no longer with the firm.”
“She was fired?” I ask. Is that why Jules is being weird?
“Oh, no, no. Nothing like that,” she says. “I do know that our managing partner, Mark Germaine, is anxious to meet with you. He was so glad to hear you were in the building. As I’m sure you know, he and your mom are very close. He wants to see what the firm can do to help find her. Can I take you to see him instead?” She gestures down the hall.
“Okay,” I say. “That would be good, I guess.” As she steps forward, my phone vibrates. “Sorry, hold on a second,” I say as I dig it out from my back pocket.
A text from Jules.
If you’re at Blair, Stevenson, leave. It’s not safe.As I quickly darken the screen, blood rushes to my ears. I don’t think Diana was close enough to see the text, but I can’t be sure.
