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us.
    My steps faltered. How would any of us get a
wink of sleep with Victoria missing and this ridiculous cloud of
suspicion from the police? I wanted to storm back upstairs and
demand that Kent Taylor tell me what was being done to find her,
what actual evidence he had to implicate my brother. Drake’s words
interrupted that train of thought as we walked toward the exit.
    “Look, everyone, he’s right. We all need
some rest if we’re going to act rationally. Let’s go back to our
house, eat something, think things through. Ron, the wedding will
happen yet. We’ll find out who got into her house and where they
took her.”
    Ron stepped ahead and held the door for me
and I belatedly noticed a man with fakey-perfect hair and thick
makeup approach.
    “Excuse me. Blake Moore, Channel 12 News.”
When he flashed the smile I recognized him immediately. “I just
heard about your fiancée—you are Ron Parker, right? It’s tragic,
her going missing like that. Is there some way we can help?”
    Ron’s mouth opened, just as I jabbed him in
the ribs. My first thoughts were: What the hell? How did this guy
hear about it? How did he know who we were? Not necessarily in that
order.
    “What are the police saying?” Blake Moore
continued. “Do they have a suspect in her death?”
    “She’s not dead!” My rib-jab and vise-like
grip on Ron’s arm didn’t stop him from protesting loudly.
    At that moment I saw Ben Ortiz approaching
at a fast clip. He hadn’t got as far away as I’d imagined and must
have overheard. Unfortunately, it looked as if all the remaining
media folks had also taken notice. In less time than it takes to
think about it, we were surrounded.

Chapter 5
     
    “It was awful,” I told Elsa.
    We’d escaped police headquarters—with
another dire warning from Ben Ortiz about keeping quiet—and made
our way home, where Paul, Lorraine and Elsa waited.
    “The attorney says we’ll issue a public
statement in the morning. Meanwhile, we aren’t to answer the phone
or the door to anyone who isn’t a close friend or relative.” I
stared into the refrigerator, heedless of the cold air and waste of
electricity, feeling that I should be coming up with food for the
group.
    Ron had gone into the guest room to shower
and change clothes. Drake was outside, having said something about
making sure our vehicles were locked.
    “The attorney’s advice is surely for the
best, dear,” Elsa said.
    At this moment I had no idea what was for
the best. Dusk had fallen quickly and Lorraine had dropped the hint
that her kids were hungry. I didn’t have a scrap of appetite and
knew Drake and Ron felt the same way because we’d discussed it on
the way home.
    Lorraine bustled into the kitchen, on her
way to the back door, a twenty dollar bill in hand. “Annie texted.
They’ve given up on us and ordered themselves a pizza.”
    I hadn’t even thought to ask where Annie and
Joe were. Obviously, they were doing a better job of focusing on
dinner than I was.
    “We all had chile three hours ago,” Elsa
reminded. “I couldn’t hold another bite.”
    “Okay, then. Anyone who’s hungry can join
the kids.” I said in a half-hearted effort to simply get the
problem solved. I closed the fridge door and turned toward the
living room.
    Paul had slumped into my favorite corner of
the sofa, taking possession of Drake’s TV remote as if he actually
lived here. Ron emerged from the guest room wearing the jeans and
rugby shirt he’d had on last night, and in one of those horrible
bad-coincidence moments the six o’clock news blared forth with the
lead story: “An Albuquerque woman is missing, on what would have
been her wedding night. No one is saying the fiancé, Ron Parker, is
a suspect yet , but defense attorney Ben Ortiz was at the
man’s side this afternoon at police headquarters.”
    I froze. Ron froze.
    Drake stepped inside with, “Did you know
there’s a—” He stopped midsentence and took in the scene. “—news
van