“Can you send me the doctor’s name?”

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“I’m overwhelmed, Skyla.”

“Then let me help with the calls.”

I claimed I’d already exhausted every possibility.

She refused to accept that nothing could be done.

“There’s always someone else we can ask,” she insisted.

Yet I continued rejecting every suggestion.

On the second evening, she arrived with a notebook filled with questions.

“Archie, I need you to be straight with me.”

My heartbeat quickened.

“About what?”

“Have you actually spoken to anyone about financial assistance?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“I don’t remember every name.”

She studied my face.

“You’re scaring me.”

I turned away.

“Fine. I’ll find another way.”

She shut her notebook and stood.

“But if you’re not going to let me help you make calls, I need a little time to see what I can find on my own.”

The following morning, a message arrived that marked the beginning of her five-day disappearance.