Okay. Missing husband. Familiar territory. "When was the last time you saw . . ." Rogan had said his name one time, what was it? ". . . Brian?"
"Three days ago. He went to work on Thursday and didn't come back. He doesn't answer his phone. Brian likes his routine. He's always home by dinner. It's Christmas Day. He wouldn't miss it." A note of hysteria crept into her voice. "I know what you'll ask: does he have a mistress, did we have a good marriage, does he disappear on drunken binges? No. No, he doesn't. He takes care of me and the kids. He comes home!"
She must've spoken to the Houston PD. "Did you fill out a missing person report?"
"Yes. They're not going to look for him." Her voice turned bitter. She was getting more agitated by the minute. "He's a Prime. It's House business. Except House Sherwood is convinced that Brian is okay and he's just taking a break. Nobody is looking for him, except me. Nobody is returning my calls. Even Rogan refuses to see me."
That didn't sound right. Rogan would never turn her away, even if I pitched a huge fit about it. I'd watched the two of them talking before. He liked her and he cared about her. "What did Rogan say exactly?"
"I came to him on Friday. His people told me he was out. He was out on Saturday too. I asked to wait, and they told me it was a waste of time. They didn't know when he would be back. I may be naive, but I'm not an idiot. I know what that means. Two weeks ago, I had friends. I had my mother's friends, powerful, respected, and always so eager to do Olivia Charles a favor. Two weeks ago, one phone call and half of the city would be out looking for Brian. They would be putting pressure on the police, on the mayor, on the Texas Rangers. But now, everyone is out. Everyone is too busy to see me. There is an invisible wall around me. No matter how loud I scream, nobody can hear me. People just nod and offer platitudes."
"He didn't stonewall you," I said. "He was out of state. With me."
She stopped. "You're together?"
There was no point in lying. "Yes."
"The thing with my mother, it wasn't just a job for you?"
"No. She killed the wife of a man I consider a friend. He works here now."
Rynda put her hand over her mouth.
Silence fell, heavy and tense.
"I shouldn't have come here," she said. "I'll get the children and go."
"That's right," Grandma Frida said.
"No," Mom said. I knew that voice. That was Sergeant Mom voice. Rynda knew that voice too, because she sat up straighter. Olivia Charles was never in the military, but three minutes of talking to her had told me that she had ruled her household with an iron fist and had a very low tolerance for nonsense.
"You're here now," Mom said. "You came to us for help, because you had nowhere to turn and because you're scared for your husband and your children. You came to the right place. Nevada is very good at tracking missing people. Either she'll help you, or she will recommend someone who will."
Grandma Frida turned and looked at Mom as if she had sprouted a pineapple on her head.
"Right," I said. I may not have personally murdered Rynda's mother, but I made that death possible. And now she was a pariah, alone and scared. She had lost her mother, her husband, and all of the people she thought were her friends. I had to help her. I had to at least get her started in the right direction.
"Can I talk to the two of you for a damn minute?" Grandma Frida growled.
"One moment," I told Rynda and got up.
Grandma grabbed my arm with one hand, grabbed Mom's wrist with her other hand, and dragged us down the hallway all the way to the end, as far from the kitchen as we could get.
"Children?" I glanced at Mom.
"Your sisters are watching them. A boy and a girl."
"Have the two of you lost your damn minds?" Grandma Frida hissed.
"She isn't lying," I said. "Her husband is really gone."
"I expect that of her!" Grandma Frida pointed at me with her thumb, while glaring at my mother. "But you ought to know better, Penelope."
"That woman is at the end of her rope," Mom said. "How much do you think it cost her to come here? This is what we do. We help people like her."
"Exactly!" Grandma Frida hissed. "She's at the end of her rope. She's beautiful, rich, helpless, and she's desperately looking for someone to save her. And she's Rogan's ex-fiancée. There is no way Rogan and Rynda won't be spending time together if Nevada takes this case."