Was she cold hearted for thinking that way? She didn’t mean to be. Ginger would come around again. She always did.
The ringing stopped for a moment, going to voice mail and she breathed a sigh of relief. Nate nudged her again.
“It’s going to start ringing again soon. It’s done it three times already. Whoever it is really wants to talk to you.”
His quiet, grave voice made her eyes snap open to find him propped up on one arm, watching her. She gazed at him, immediately figuring out who he thought was calling.
Ginger.
The phone started to ring and she snatched it from her purse on the floor, checking the caller ID. Dread and excitement filled her when she saw the name flashing.
“It’s Ginger,” she whispered to a waiting Nate before she answered. “Hi, how are you?”
“Not good.” Ginger’s voice was tiny, as if she were far, far away and concern filled Janelle.
“What’s wrong?”
Ginger released a shuddering breath. “I’m sick. I thought by leaving this crappy town I could get better but it didn’t work. I need you, J.”
Janelle closed her eyes for the briefest moment, hating the sound of her sister’s tortured voice. “Why are you sick?”
“I need help, okay? I’m sick, I can’t get off this shit and it’s screwing with my brain, my body. I went looking for her but I can’t find Mom and I refuse to go back to my boyfriend. He’s the one who got me on this stuff in the first place. I don’t have anyone else, Janelle.”
“What do you want me to do?” She glanced up, caught Nate watching her intently.
“Ask her where she’s at. Tell her you’ll meet her somewhere,” he whispered, his expression fierce, his eyes anxious.
Janelle shushed him and waved him away, not wanting Ginger to hear.
“I need medical help. I want to go into rehab or something. I can’t do this anymore, I feel like I’m gonna die.” A soft sob escaped Ginger and Janelle’s heart lurched.
“What are you on? You sound awful.”
Ginger sighed. “I don’t know. Everything? Nothing? All of it? I can’t do this on my own. I need you.”
“I can’t afford to put you through rehab. I can barely survive on my paycheck as it is.” It was true. She’d been living hand to mouth for far too long and rehabilitation centers, though worth it, were expensive.
Nate gestured excitedly at her and she couldn’t ignore it. She turned to him, tilting her head. “Don’t turn her away. Tell her you’ll take care of it. We’ll figure that part out later,” he murmured.
Dread filled her. He wanted to lure Ginger in so he could question her. Once he had her, he had a better chance of finding Billy Diaz. This was his golden opportunity. Janelle couldn’t help but feel like she was being used. That she’d been used all along.
She didn’t like it.
“Fine, go ahead and ignore me like usual. When they find my body in a gutter I hope you feel guilty because it’ll be all your fault.” Ginger’s tone took on a sulky quality.
“Wait! Listen, uh, I’m sure we can figure out something. I’ll make it work. You’re my sister. I promised I’d always be there for you, but you need to give me a little time. Tell me where you’re at.”
“I don’t know.” Ginger sniffed, sounding sad and lost and completely strung out. “Some crappy hotel in downtown Los Angeles. It’s cheap and besides, I couldn’t find Billy. I just got back from Vegas.”
Janelle shook her head. Her sister had never been known for making smart decisions. Las Vegas was, after all, Sin City. “I thought you didn’t want to find your boyfriend.” She bit her lip the moment the words left her. She wasn’t supposed to know Ginger and Billy were involved.
Thank goodness, Ginger was oblivious. “J, you can’t tell anyone I called you. That we’re going to meet. People are, uh, looking for me and I don’t want them to find out I’m here,” Ginger continued, her voice dropping to a husky whisper.
“Who’s looking for you?” Janelle asked, keeping her voice neutral.
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to freak you out.” Ginger breathed deep, exhaling loudly over the phone. “I need...I need money. Can we meet for breakfast? There’s a little restaurant down the street from here.”
“Okay, where?” Janelle gestured at Nate and he handed her a notepad and pen. She scribbled the restaurant’s address on a piece of paper as Ginger recited it. “You want to meet say, in an hour? Ten o’clock?”