Saturday Morning by Lauraine Snelling Read Free Book Online Page B

turned up the volume on the office speakerphone. “She’s under eighteen—that makes her a runaway. Listen, Fred, there must be something more we can do.”
    She felt like throwing the phone against the wall. Fred Smith, a PI she’d hired from a firm she knew in Los Angeles, had come up with nothing. Like too many other Hollywood hopefuls, Cyndy had fallen into the maw of the city and had yet to be burped out again. She hadn’t found employment anywhere, signed up with any talent agents, gotten any traffic tickets, or been charged with any violations. So far, she had no paper trail of any kind.
    “You’re not her guardian, Julia, and unless her mother signs papers, there’s nothing the police can do.” He paused a moment, then continued. “I showed her picture around, so someone might still get back to me. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
    “You tried canvassing the studio cattle calls?” Julia didn’t know much about Hollywood terminology, but she knew that when a movie needed to cast minor parts and extras, the studio people put out a general casting call, which ran in various daily industry publications.
    “Yep. There’s a big one next week for a new Brad Pitt film. If she’s in town, I’d think that would be one she wouldn’t miss.”
    “She’s probably like every other young aspiring actress and thinks someone is going to see her walking down the street and say, ‘Ah, you’re the one I need.’”
    “That does happen, Julia. It happens all the time, but not for Brad Pitt films or any other respectable film.”
    Julia gasped. She knew what he was referring to, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She closed her eyes, sorting through her mind to come up with any other avenues to search, and she couldn’t think of a thing. “Well, keep looking, please, and let me know if you come up with anything new. We’ll do a retainer.”
    “Sorry I haven’t been much help.”
    “Two weeks isn’t a long time. Thanks for calling.” She hung up and leaned back in her chair. Two weeks wasn’t a long time, unless you were on the streets with no safe place to sleep and you hadn’t eaten. Dear God, watch out for her, please keep her safe, and let us find her somehow.
    Julia worked out at the local club, dealt with her clients, and had dinner with Glen—always with thoughts of Cyndy hovering at the back of her mind. Glen accompanied her to church on Sunday. During the sermon, she saw herself carrying her granddaughter to the altar and laying her down, but when she tried to leave the burden there, she couldn’t. I know You are watching out for her, Father, but I can’t seem to leave her in Your hands. She felt like a small child who wanted to share her favorite toy, but as soon as she turned away, something compelled her to grab it back.
    She felt a presence beside her and turned a tear-streaked face to see Glen gazing at her, utter compassion glowing from dark eyes that were shaded by bushy eyebrows.
    He has Jesus eyes. The thought made her want to throw herself in hisarms and cry out her fears against his broad chest. Her hand sought his, and its warmth brought her comfort. She turned her gaze back to the rugged wooden cross that towered behind the marble altar, and she knew she was far from being alone in her search for Cyndy. When the choir began singing, Julia threw herself wholeheartedly into worshiping God, who promised to always be there—and to send help.
    Later, during dinner, Glen rubbed a spot on his jaw line while he listened intently to her list of attempts to locate Cyndy. He made a couple of suggestions, only to be met with, “We’ve already done that.”
    “Then it looks to me like you’re doing all you can. It’s time to let God do His job.”
    “I keep telling myself that, but the telling is always easier than the doing.”
    “You have circles under your eyes.” He stopped her restless hand with his.
    “You’re not supposed to see them. Lancôme promised me that