Ashley got out of the shower, dried herself and walked over to the closet. Her clothes were missing.
The only things inside the closet were a black leather miniskirt, a cheap-looking tube top
and a pair of spiked high-heeled shoes. She was repelled by the thought of putting the clothes on,
but she had no choice. She dressed quickly and glanced in the mirror.
She looked like a prostitute. “Father. I—” “What’s wrong?” “I’m in Chicago and—”
“What are you doing in Chicago?” “I can’t go into it now. I need an airline ticket to San Jose.”
“I don’t have any money with me. Can you help me?” “Of course. Hold on....”
“There’s an American Airlines plane leaving O’Hare at ten-forty a.m., Flight 407.
There will be a ticket waiting for you at the check-in counter.
“Alette, can you hear me? Alette.” “I’m here. Dr. Keller. I want us to talk about Richard Melton.
He was a friend of yours, wasn’t he?” “Yes. He was very... simpatico. I was in love with him.”
“Was he in love with you?” “I think so, yes. He was an artist.”
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