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“Just the last bit over there in the corner,” the woman tells them, pointing to somewhere unseen, before returning her attention to us. “I’m Rhonda. I was Audrey’s hospice caregiver.”
Henry looks like someone’s slapped him.
I step in. “Hi, I’m Abbi and this is Henry. If you don’t mind me asking, what did Audrey pass away from?” Hospice only ever means one thing.
“I guess it’s no secret, given the obituary,” Rhonda says, more to herself. “Audrey had ALS.”
“Oh my gosh.” My eyes flitter to Henry and find a stony expression.
“One of the youngest patients I’ve had pass from it.” Rhonda’s face pinches. “How did you know Audrey?”
“She was an acquaintance of mine,” Henry says, finding his voice. “I haven’t seen her in a very long time.”
“Oh.” Rhonda nods. “She was only diagnosed a few years ago. It progressed quickly. I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to reacquaint yourself with her.”
Henry’s eyes dart past her, into the house. “Where is Violet?”
“With her grandparents. They moved the last of her things out yesterday morning.”
“And where is that?”
Rhonda hesitates. “I don’t have the address handy.”
Henry crosses his arms. “You don’t have it, or you don’t want to give it to me?”
Rhonda clears her throat. “I’m not permitted to share my patient’s personal information.”
“Audrey’s no longer your patient,” he says calmly.
“Ortheir family’s information,” Rhonda adds, throwing him a look of disgust.
Henry’s jaw clenches. “Do her grandparents allow her to travel to Manhattan by herself at night?”
“Heavens, no, they wouldn’t allow that. She’s only fifteen!”
“And yet it happened,” he snaps, his patience vanishing. He’s so used to people asking how high when he demands they jump. “I have concerns over Violet’s care, and I need to find her.Now.”
“I can’t just—”
I cut in before Henry erupts. “If you have a way to reach her grandparents and ask for permission to pass along their address, that would be okay, wouldn’t it?”
“I suppose,” she admits reluctantly but doesn’t seem too eager to help.
“Violet showed up at our place in Manhattan last night and then took off. She was upset,” I explain. “We would like to meet her grandparents and make sure Violet is okay.”
“I have people who can get me the address within the hour, but if Violet is in any danger and we’ve wasted time finding her …” Henry lets the unspoken threat hang in the air, his teeth clenched with frustration.
I give his biceps a warning squeeze. He’s usually smoother than this.
Rhonda’s wary gaze flickers between the two of us, then to the shiny black SUV parked at the curb, Victor sitting in the driver’s seat.
I see the instant her resistance fades. “Give me a moment.”
* * *
Audrey’s parentslive three blocks away, their street equally quiet and quaint.
“Don’t have the address handy, my ass,” Henry grumbles as we approach the porch. “I could have had this address with one phone call to Dyson.”
