He reached for it. "Hello?"
"Griffen?"
He stiffened a little. A voice he had not exactly thought to hear for a while, or really wanted to.
"Hello, Uncle Malcolm," he said. "Happy Mardi Gras."
"Yes, thank you," his uncle said, dismissively. "Griffen, we really need to talk. Where is your sister?"
"She went shopping," Griffen said. "With Melinda."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized how it must sound to his uncle. But he had not been through the last three months in New Orleans. And it was after two in the morning. They should have been back already. In fact, they had left after nine. No baby-clothes stores were open that late, even during Mardi Gras. Uncle Malcolm's voice blared in his ear.
"Melinda? Are you out of your mind? Griffen, stay where you are. I am getting on the next plane down." The phone went dead.
Griffen stared at it, then he pushed the autodial for Val's cell phone. It rang four times, then a perky female voice with a drawl answered.
"I am sorry, but the subscriber you are calling has left the area. Please try again later. Six-three-two." He tried again and again and got the same recording.
Griffen felt the blood drain from his body. Mai had warned him not to trust Melinda, and he had. She had kept her word to him, as far as that word went. But she was the last person he knew Val had been with, and now he couldn't reach her.
Where were they?