“Good. No complaints. Phoenix started her last rotation before she’s done with residency. She likes the doctors. And so far it hasn’t been as demanding, so we get to see each other more.”
“What’s this rotation?”
“Dermatology.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah. It is.” She and Phoenix have been together for years now. Phoenix is part of the reason Maya ended up back in Chicago, back in the city where we grew up. “What about you? Dad says you’re working constantly. Any truth in that or are you avoiding him?”
“I call him every Sunday.”
I don’t owe him my weekends. Never have.
“Right.” She breathes out, and I can’t tell if it’s a sigh or a huff. “So what are you working on these days? Dad said it’s protection, but I thought you were doing investigative work.”
“Yeah, the team I told you I joined?—”
“Hunting the bad guys, that’s what you said. The ones above the law.”
“Yeah, well, still on that team, but this has turned into more of a protective detail.”
“For anyone I’d know?”
“Doubtful.”
“So you’re bored out of your mind.”
“Not even close. It’s been intense. The twelve-year-old daughter went missing yesterday.”
“Whoa. She okay?”
“Yeah. She was actually staying at her dad’s. She went out with a friend—didn’t tell him.”
“Oh, so this detail—it’s a divorced woman?”
“Yeah,” I say, wondering why her tone shifted with the question.
“Single?”
I glance toward the house. “Yeah.”
“Your boss going to have a problem when he learns you’re seeing the client?”
My mouth opens, ready to deny, but I don’t lie to Maya. Not anymore. Not after telling her that Mom would get better. Not after telling her that nothing was going on with Dad and Linda.
“What makes you think?—”
“Dad told me.”
I told Dad about dinner. That was it. But he drew his own conclusion. He assumed the worst and I proved him right.
“Well, tell me about her,” Maya says. “I’ve got five more minutes.”
I lean against the brick fence and look out over the courtyard.
How do I explain Alicia?
“She runs a crisis management firm. She’s on the ball. Sophisticated. Wicked smart.” I rub my thumb along the phone’s edge, searching for the right words. “She’s the kind of woman who always walks into the fire first.”