Ava took a deep breath, stress creeping up her spine as she tried not to think about the half hour she’d just borrowed from her murder cases to search for her sister. Even if she’d been the president of the United States, the director of the women’s shelter wouldn’t have told her if Jayne had stayed there or not. She admired Cindy for sticking to her guns and providing a haven of safety. Some of the residents had left abusive relationships. They had the right to privacy.

But this is my twin.

“I respect what you’re telling me and I understand why,” Ava said. “I’d like to leave my card. If you see someone who looks like me, but perhaps with blond hair, would you please ask her to reach out to me?”

Cindy gave her a sad smile, and Ava suspected she had the patience of a saint. No doubt people constantly contacted her, searching for loved ones or hoping to find someone they were angry with. The director had drawn a line and stuck to it. “Ms. McLane, does your sister know your phone number?”

“I assume she does.”

“Has she called you on that number before?”

“Yes.”

“Has she ever been to your home?” Cindy asked kindly.

Ava thought of the break-in at Mason’s. “Yes.”

“Then she knows how to find you if she wants to speak with you,” the director finished.

“But . . . but what if she’s lost my number? Her phone’s been disconnected. People don’t memorize phone numbers anymore; they just keep them in their contacts.”

“Does she know where you work?”

“She’s never been to the building, but I assume she could figure it out. But they’d never—”

“Ms. McLane, it sounds to me like your sister prefers to not be in contact at this time.”

Ava caught her breath.

Of course she doesn’t . . . she’s stolen from me and is probably high.

“I’m worried about her health,” Ava said slowly, holding Cindy’s gaze. “I’m concerned she’s not taking care of herself and may be hurting herself.”

Sympathy crossed the director’s face. “I understand you are worried about her. Has she ever been declared mentally incompetent?”

“No, but she’s been in rehab several times. She doesn’t think like normal—”

“Your sister is an adult, Ms. McLane. Neither you nor I can make her do something she’s not interested in doing.” She paused. “Something tells me you already know this and have encountered it in the past?”

Ava deflated. It was time to admit defeat. She was dealing with a woman who’d heard every story in the book—some probably a hundred times—and was skilled at gently discrediting them all. “You’re very good,” Ava admitted.

Cindy Birkholz flashed white teeth. “I get a lot of practice. I don’t want you to think I’m not sympathetic. I am. But my first priority is my women. We watch for health issues, both mental and physical, in our residents. We make the help available, but we can’t make them drink the water. Do you understand?”

Ava sat back in her chair and stared at the worn tile floor, tired from trying to find a crack in the director’s walls. “I do. And you’re absolutely right that Jayne knows how to find me when she decides to. I guess I’m more afraid of believing that she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.” She lifted her gaze to Cindy’s. “I know that it’s nothing I did. She’s avoiding me because she’s ashamed and afraid to face me. I don’t want her to deepen the hole she is in. I’m afraid she’ll never find her way out.”

“Are you seeking her for your mental well-being or for her benefit?” Cindy asked kindly.

Ava considered the question. “Both. I’m crazy with guilt and terrified she’ll be beyond saving if I wait too long.”

The director nodded. “I see.”

Ava believed her. Her eyes spoke of a history that’d seen it all, including women who were beyond saving. Ava gathered her bag and stood, holding out a hand to the kind woman. She hoped Jayne was here. Cindy could help her. If Jayne allowed herself to be helped.

The director stood and shook her hand. “You do realize the waiting lists to get into the shelters are months long. If she’s only been on the street for a short while, she may not have an established place to go.”

“Yes, I wondered if that could be the case. What do people do when there’s no beds for the night?”

The director sighed. “There are a lot of options. If she has some money, she could be in a cheap hotel. The problem starts when the money runs out. Does she have a vehicle?”

“I don’t know,” Ava admitted. “Last I heard it wasn’t running.” Should she have offered to pay to fix Jayne’s car?

“Some sleep in their cars, but they have to keep moving. People don’t tolerate seeing the same cars parked in the same place day after day, and they utilize whatever bathroom facilities they can find.”

Ava wanted to vomit. The thought of Jayne using the sink to clean up in a rundown gas station bathroom made her heart crack.

“I know some homeless break into empty homes to sleep, or if they’re lucky, they can crash on a friend’s couch,” added Cindy.

Does Jayne have any friends?

Cindy looked at her with knowing eyes. “Does she get along with the opposite sex very well?”

“Too well.”