know,” Dad answered, with a subdued, regretful voice. “I didn’t think.”
“No kidding,” Mom practically spat. Her tone caught me by surprise. I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard her be so harsh.
“So what do I do?” Dad asked.
“You tell the truth. Those girls came to you for head shots, and yes, it looks very suspicious now that they’re missing, but you have absolutely no idea what happened to them. That is the truth, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure ?” Mom pressed.
“I said yes, Ruth.” Dad’s answer was more emphatic.
“Then I don’t understand what your problem is,” Mom said.
There was silence for a moment. Then Dad said, “Should I hire a lawyer?”
In the quiet that followed, I wondered why he’d ask that if he was innocent.
As if she’d read my thoughts, Mom said, “If you hire a lawyer, people will instantly begin to wonder why you feel you need one.”
“But if I don’t, I feel totally vulnerable. What if I say the wrong thing? I feel like it’s me against the whole world.”
I felt a pang when I heard that. My parents had been married for twenty years, and now Dad was basically saying that he didn’t feel like he could count on Mom for emotional support. I felt the urge to go down the hall and tell him that he’d always have my support. But I knew better than to get between them. I could tell him later.
I waited for Mom’s answer, hoping that she’d reassure him that he wasn’t all alone, that she’d stand by him. But it was Dad’s voice I heard next. “I guess, at this point, Ruth, saying I’m sorry doesn’t mean very much.”
Again there was silence. What was Dad saying he was sorry for? For the iciness that had grown between them? For choosing to sleep in a separate bedroom? I still didn’t know what had caused all their ill will in the first place. Was that what he was talking about?
Chapter 11
I GOT INTO bed with my laptop and looked for news, but there’d been no new developments during the day. The police were still “looking into the situation.” I took a look at the Snoop , too, which featured mostly Soundview-centric information about town government, schools, and complaints about leaf-blower noise. But I purposefully stayed off video chat and IMs.
Later I lay in the dark with unanswered questions instead of dreams. If Dad had no connection to the three missing girls, why was he thinking about hiring a lawyer? Who was
[email protected], and what did he know about this? And what had Dad apologized to Mom for, knowing ahead of time that she wouldn’t accept his apology?
I woke with a jolt, the alarm like a buzz saw five inches from my ear. I felt like I’d hardly slept at all, but sunlight filtered in through the shades. Fumbling to turn off the alarm, I accidentally knocked it to the floor, where it continued to buzz out of reach. Burying my head under the pillows didn’t work, so finally I dragged my sleep-deprived body out of bed. But even before I hit the shower, I checked the computer. Roman was on. Sometimes I wondered if she ever slept.
“S’up?” I asked with a yawn.
“Have you seen what’s on TV this morning?” she asked.
Despite the cobwebs in my brain, I knew her question meant bad news. “Oh God, now what?”
On the screen, I watched as Roman aimed her webcam at the small TV on her desk. A teenage girl was being interviewed by a news anchor in a studio. In the top right corner of the screen was a small box with a photo. It took a moment for me to realize it was Dad.
“So how did this scam, as you call it, work?” the blonde anchorwoman asked the girl.
“My friends and I were at the mall one day, and this woman came up to me and asked if I’d ever considered modeling,” the girl said.
“And what made you think she was a legitimate modeling agent?” asked the anchorwoman.
“She didn’t ask all of us. Just me. She said I had the right look, and she gave me her business card. It all seemed very