Wild Sky 2 by Suzanne Brockmann, Melanie Brockmann Page A

Morgan is real?”
    “Our only other option is to let you try to surf around inside Sasha’s head,” Cal pointed out.
    “So we need to find two hundred and fifty dollars,” I concluded because we both knew that was a no-go, and we soon fell back into silence. It was possible that Calvin dozed off.
    I alternated between looking at nothing through those binoculars, and watching my phone not ring.
    Where was Milo, anyway?
    And oh, yeah. Jilly. The girl who was missing. Where was she? Once we found her, we’d have Garrett out of our hair and this current awfulness could go back to normal.
    “Would you rather,” Cal mumbled, “have all your food smell like poop or everything you drink smell like urine?”
    I had no answer. Both choices were too awful. The question was a true lose/lose.
    And I realized then, with Milo acting so weirdly distant, and with Dana so frustrated and angry over our lack of leads in our search for her sister, I wasn’t at all convinced that the normal we’d return to wouldn’t be equally awful, too.
    ————
    Milo’s burner phone had died.
    That’s why he hadn’t called.
    He finally came back, roaring up the street on Dana’s motorcycle, dust flying behind him as he approached, like some blockbuster movie hero.
    Again, he didn’t reach for me or kiss me hello after he pushed his bike into the reeds and then climbed into the backseat of Cal’s car.
    Of course, that might’ve been because I greeted him with a somewhat strident “Where have you been? Are you all right? Why didn’t you call?”
    “I apologize,” he said as he handed his burner cell over to Cal, who was our unofficial tech expert. “When I left this morning, I had ninety percent battery and three hundred minutes left. But the first time I tried to call you, it was already dead. I’m so sorry, Sky. I didn’t want to leave Rochelle.”
    Calvin handed the phone back to Milo. “It’s dead, Jim. Looks like a case of POS-itis. You’re gonna have to get a new one. Maybe go for a little less of a piece of shit this time?”
    I exhaled hard. “Well, where’s Rochelle right now? Do we have time to—”
    Milo was already shaking his head no. “She stopped at the farm stand down by the public beach,” he reported. “She’ll be here soon.”
    So much for ringing her doorbell or peeking in the windows.
    “We need to duck when we see her coming,” Milo continued. He met my eyes. “I don’t want her near you. She’s definitely a Destiny addict. Her day was full trophy-spouse—tanning, facial, yoga—which isn’t all that different from lots of people here on Coconut Key, I know. But Garrett wasn’t kidding when he said that she’s mean. The way she treats other people…” He shook his head. “She’s a user.”
    Cal and I were well aware that Destiny addicts quickly lost their humanity and empathy.
    “She does have at least one friend though,” Milo continued. “Someone she met for lunch over at Harbor Locke.”
    Harbor Locke was where the really rich people lived in Coconut Key—not just your average multimillion or billionaire, but full-on trillionaires.
    “This woman could’ve been Rochelle’s clone,” Milo told us.
    “So…another D-user,” Cal concluded.
    “That would be my guess,” Milo said. “They had lunch there, at the club. It was all air kisses and hugs when Rochelle finally left. Happy-sounding See you laters .”
    “Did you get a name?” Cal asked.
    “No, but the lunch took a full hour,” Milo reported. “If it’s something Rochelle does regularly…”
    Then we’d have an hour to get inside her house—an hour that we could’ve used today. “When you get the new phone,” I told Milo, “please also get a backup.”
    He smiled tightly. “I will.”
    “What was next in Rochelle’s Very Important Day?” Calvin asked. “Maybe a stop at the local curling club or perchance a little horse dancing?”
    Milo laughed. “No, but the next place she went was interesting,” he