Page 136 of Kylie

“Do you think you should be?”

There was no accusation in her tone, and I understood she was trying to ferret out my guilt. Evidently, I was easy to read.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Why is that?”

“Because Cicily Rose is still missing. And I should be doing my part to find her.”

“What is your part?”

Holding her stare for a moment, I tried to put words together. They didn’t come easily, and I realized that was because I didn’t have an answer. “I don’t have one.”

“Because you’re not an investigator, Kylie.”

“I know.”

“It is not your job to search for missing people. Brantley and his task force do that. They get paid to do that. And from what you’ve told me, they are actively working to find her.”

“They are. Archer tells me if I ask. And sometimes I can’t help myself.”

“Why do you look bothered by this?”

“Because I like the friendship we’ve built. I like that I have someone to talk to. Someone who doesn’t know me from before. I want to keep it that way, so I promised I would avoid going down that rabbit hole.”

“Who did you promise?”

“Myself.” I sighed. “After I went to HQ and saw the pictures of that house, it all came rushin’ back. I didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to relive it, so I walked away. I told myself that Brantley’s team would do what needed to be done.”

“When was this?”

“Just after I got home. So almost two months.”

“Have you been discussing the case with Archer more?”

“Yes.”

“Since when?”

“Since Meredith confronted me at the park,” I admitted, feeling more shame.

“Why does it bother you that you want to be kept apprised of the situation?”

“I don’t know. It shouldn’t, I guess. I … I just need to know that he’ll get the punishment he deserves.”

“Is that all you hope happens?”

I shook out my hands, forcing them to my sides as I sat up straight, fighting for composure. “I hope they find Cicily Rose.”

“Your half-sister.”

It wasn’t a question, but I responded anyway. “The child my mother had with one of her students.” Even thinking about it made me feel sick.

“Do you know how old Cicily Rose is?”

“Sixteen. She was born the year after my mother left us.”

“That bothers you. Why?”