Two Sisters. Kay David

an exotic dancer. And I don’t see what business it is of yours, one way or the other. I called the police again this morning, and the proper people are working on the case.”

      “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

      “You didn’t insult me, but I have a problem with dancers being called strippers. One inaccurate word generally leads to another, and in this case it’s usually hooker.”

      “Is she a hooker?”

      Elizabeth drew in a sharp disbelieving breath. Without another word, she whirled and headed for the door to the showers, her sneakers slapping angrily on the floor. Before she could reach it, he was standing in front of her. He put a hand on her arm, stopping her.

      She looked down at his fingers, then back up at him. “Take your hand off me and please leave. Now.”

      “I’m only trying to help you,” he said quietly.

      He was wearing the same look of compassion he’d had when he’d met her at the mailboxes, and something inside of her melted. But she reminded herself of her thoughts only a few hours before, and refused to give in. “That’s supposed to help me? Calling my sister a hooker?”

      “I didn’t call her that,” he said evenly. “I asked you if she was one. It could play in why she’d disappeared.”

      Elizabeth stared at him, her jaw clenched, her hands in two fists at her side. “My sister dances for a living. It isn’t a great business to be in and I wish she’d find another career, but I don’t appreciate your question.”

      His deep brown eyes held hers. “I’m sorry. Like I said, I didn’t mean to insult you…or her.”

      She didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. When he spoke, his voice was even softer than before. The low timbre of it caused a shiver to travel up her arms and down her back. “Look, I may not always be tactful, but if you want to find your sister, I can help. I’m an honest cop and you can trust me.”

      “I’ve heard those words before.”

      “Not from me, you haven’t.”

      She didn’t want to acknowledge it, but something—a quick dash of intuition?—flickered inside her. She told herself she just wanted to believe him, so that’s what was happening, but in his gaze was something awfully close to sincerity.

      Would it be so terrible to let him help her?

      He read her hesitation. “Why don’t you get dressed? I’ll wait for you, then we’ll hit the deli on the corner and talk. You haven’t eaten dinner, have you?”

      “No, but—”

      “Get your clothes on,” he said gently but insistently. “I want to talk to you some more and I have to go back to work in an hour. I was on my way home to grab something for dinner and swung by here, instead. I can’t face Central on an empty stomach.” When she didn’t answer, he spoke again, his eyes warming as they narrowed and crinkled at the corners. “C’mon—it’s just a sandwich, not a lifetime commitment.”

      She looked into his eyes. “All right,” she said finally. “But it’ll take me a few minutes to get dressed.”

      “I can wait. I’m a patient man.”

      She turned and went into the locker room. Showering and dressing quickly, she found herself in front of the mirror, taking a little more care than usual with her makeup. When she realized what she was doing, she tossed the tube of mascara into her purse and snapped it shut. Two minutes later she was walking out the door with John at her side. Alarms were going off in her head, but she ignored them.

      As they made their way to the tiny deli, dusk was starting to fall and the summer heat hadn’t relented a bit. Traffic was steady, too, and the diesel and gasoline fumes only added to the humidity. Elizabeth was happy to enter the frigid air-conditioning of the restaurant. The place was empty of customers, six forlorn booths lining the wall, three tables on the other side. They took the last booth, and the teenager who came for their order looked as if she’d rather be anywhere but standing by the red-checked tablecloth. She disappeared into the back and returned promptly with the coffee they’d wanted, promising their sandwiches would be ready shortly. As soon as she left, John began to speak, picking up exactly where they’d left off.

      “I don’t care what your sister does for a living, and I wasn’t trying to imply anything. The only reason I said what I did about her occupation was that it’s not exactly like being a school teacher. The people who run those clubs are a pretty tough bunch.”

      “I know.” Elizabeth sighed. “I’ve been trying to get her to quit.”

      “But the money’s good.”

      “The money’s great for someone who never finished college and has no other skills. She doesn’t really have another choice right now.”

      “Even though you’ve offered to help.”

      It wasn’t a question. He said the words as if he knew them to be true. “I have,” she answered, anyway. “I’ve offered to do everything…anything. But April can be stubborn. Even when she was a little kid and we were really close, she wanted to be herself, completely apart from me. She went nuts if Mom tried to dress us alike.”

      “That’s understandable.”

      “What do you mean?” Elizabeth frowned. “A lot of twins dress the same.”

      “And it always invites comparisons, doesn’t it?”

      She nodded.

      “Who in their right mind would want to be compared to you?” he said softly.

      Over the table, his gaze locked with hers before she quickly looked away, the offhand compliment completely disarming her. She picked up her coffee and took a sip, then said, “When we were younger, we looked exactly alike, but now she’s blond and thinner and—”

      “She colors her hair?”

      “Yes, perms it, too, and it’s also longer than mine. She wears green contacts, as well.”

      “To make the differences even greater?”

      Elizabeth answered reluctantly. “I never thought of it that way, but yes, maybe so.”

      He nodded and took a swallow of coffee.

      “How did you find out?” she asked. “I mean, that April danced?”

      “You mentioned her address when we spoke.”

      She waited for more. When it didn’t come, she asked, “And? Did you talk to her neighbors or something?”

      He smiled then, the corners of his full lips going up and pulling her gaze. Distracting her, even.

      “I can’t be giving all my detective secrets away, now can I?” He arched one eyebrow, obviously prepared to say nothing more.

      “Have you been to the club where she works?”

      “Not yet. I was going to do that tomorrow. Is she still at the Esquire?”

      Elizabeth nodded. What John didn’t know, he found out quickly enough, it seemed. “She’s been there about three years. Ever since we moved here.” She paused to gather her thoughts, then spoke quickly before she changed her mind, telling him about the conversation with Greg Lansing.

      “What kind of trouble do you think he was talking about?”

      “I have no idea.” She caught his look. “And before you ask, April is not into drugs. She won’t even take an aspirin when she has a headache.”

      “Did she owe people money?”

      Elizabeth laughed, a sound without humor. “Only me. She’s very generous with all her friends. If they need anything, they know they can come to her…and if she doesn’t have it, she usually comes to me.”

      “Does