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either.
    Still, the woman whose credentials lay before him had an impressive background at Johns Hopkins and Yale. She specialized in genetic engineering that could enable parents to deliver healthy babies free of their families’ devastating hereditary conditions. Her cover letter indicated she was interested in moving to southern California to be closer to her elderly parents.
    Much as he admired her, Mark knew she’d be a better fit at a research-oriented university hospital. Safe Harbor needed a clinician concerned with applying proven techniques as well as developing and testing new ones.
    The prospect of having the best possible staff and lab facilities thrilled him. He wasn’t entirely sorry about taking over existing space at Safe Harbor, because it meant that the new center would be up and running much faster thanunder the old plan. But he had to find the right director, and so far, respectable as these applicants were, none quite fit what he envisioned.
    May Chong buzzed him on the intercom. “There’s a woman on line three who says she’s your sister. Do you want to pick up?”
    A jolt of relief drove everything else from Mark’s mind. “Absolutely.” Then a wave of apprehension closed over him. It had been five years since he’d seen her. What kind of condition was she in? Would she even be coherent? Was she calling from a jail, seeking bail money?
    He punched the button and asked cautiously, “Bryn?”
    â€œYou moved,” she said without preamble. “I pictured you still in Florida.”
    â€œI’d have left a forwarding address if I’d known where to send it.”
    â€œI found you on the internet.”
    Her voice had a huskier quality than he remembered. The last time they’d met he’d seen the toll that drugs and alcohol had taken on his sister, sprinkling her brown hair with premature traces of gray and leaving pouches beneath her eyes.
    â€œYou’re easy to find,” she added. “Unlike me, I guess.”
    â€œI hired a detective, but you dropped completely out of sight. Are you okay? Where are you?” He braced for her usual evasions.
    â€œIn Phoenix. I’ve been clean for two years.”
    â€œTwo years? Congratulations.” That sounded like an eternity, considering that she’d begun using as a teenager and hadn’t stopped except for the few times he’d persuaded her to enter rehab programs. She must be thirty-three now. Hard to imagine his baby sister being that old. “I wish you’d let me know sooner.”
    â€œI wanted to be sure I could do this on my own.” In the background, he heard the rumble of a large engine.
    â€œAre you at a truck stop?” That would be typical, sad to say. According to the detective, his sister had put her health and life at risk, picking up men for drug money.
    â€œI work as a receptionist for a trucking company,” she told him. “Mark, I don’t blame you for doubting me. I put you through hell. But I’ve found a group that supports me. It’s called Celebrate Recovery—kind of like Alcoholics Anonymous, only it’s at a church.”
    â€œI’m glad to hear it.” Beneath her casual tone, he sensed that she’d called for a reason. “I’m happier than I can say to learn that you’re all right. You’re the only family I have.”
    â€œNo wife?” Bryn asked. “I was hoping for a few nieces and nephews by now.”
    â€œNot yet. I’m still marveling at the idea that a home can be a refuge instead of a war zone.” Now, where had that come from?
    â€œSo you choose to be alone?”
    â€œI’m not alone. I run a hospital and see patients. Long hours, but it’s what I always dreamed of.” Enough talking about himself. He wanted to find out more about his sister. “I was going to ask—”
    â€œWhy I’m calling,” she finished.