Page 88 of No More Words

“Hello?” she answers, hopeful it’s someone with news about Lily.

“Olivia Carson?”

“Speaking.”

“This is Gayle Pierson, Jenna Mason’s publicist.” Olivia clutches her phone. Excitement uncurls. Gayle knows how to reach Lily. She might have news. “She’s missing, you say?”

“Yes, for almost a week.”

“That would explain why her voice mail is full. I just tried reaching her.”

“Have you texted her?”

“This morning, yes, after I read your emails. I haven’t heard back.”

“Is that unusual for her?” Olivia paces the kitchen as they talk, desperate for news, her emotions in a tangle.

“To not reply right away?”

“That and her voice mail. Does it always get full?”

“My clients can go days without responding when they’re on deadline. So, no. It wouldn’t have alarmed me if I didn’t know she was missing.”

“Did she mention anything about leaving town or where she’d go if she wanted to get away? Any indication she was in danger?” Olivia asks.

“No. We haven’t talked in over a week. But if she did tell me anything, I wouldn’t be able to disclose it to you.” Her tone takes on a professional edge.

“This might sound strange, but I don’t have my sister’s cell. I’m not sure what she’s told you about our family, but I haven’t seen her in years. Her son is with me and we need to find her. Can I get her number?”

“Dear, I wish I could pass it along. But I’m contractually prohibited from sharing anything personal about Jenna, including her contact information, unless I have her permission.”

A surge of frustration froths below her surface. “Even if it’s an emergency?” she asks, refusing to lose any more hope.

“Even in emergencies.”

“Her son is a minor. They got separated,” she argues. “That seems like an odd clause to include.”

“Not really. I have some high-profile clients who value their privacy, no matter the circumstances.” She pauses. “Tell you what, I’ll continue trying to reach her. When I do, I’ll pass along your number.”

“Please,” Olivia begs. “Tell her Josh is with me, and that he’s safe.”

“I will. If there’s anything else I can do to help, let me know.”

“Actually, there is,” Olivia says. “Have you met Jenna in person?”

“Not sure where you’re going with this, but yes.”

“Can you describe her for me?”

“Dear, that contract I mentioned—”

“Okay, okay. But this is life or death, Gayle,” she rushes to say before the publicist hangs up. “Would you say she’s five foot four, lean frame, auburn hair, brown eyes, and has a mole on her right jaw?” She doubts Gayle knows about the constellation of moles on the back of her right shoulder.

Gayle heaves a sigh. “I wouldn’t deny it. Although ... shit. Her hair is more red than auburn. She dyed it for Josh.”

A rush of gratitude pours into her. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Five minutes later, Olivia has Officer Curbelo on the line.

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