I walk toward the glass doors leading outside, and something in the second room stops me in my tracks.

  “Noah,” I say, “you need to see this.”

  He comes into the room as I hear footsteps coming down the steps.

  “Agent Griffin?”

  Noah is beside me, staring at the same object I am, his face stern.

  “Here you are,” Blaine says behind me. “This is James, Nick, and Cooper. They’re the only other brothers here right now, but others should be coming back later.”

  I look at him and see that he changed into real clothes and smoothed his hair.

  “How can you explain that?” I ask, pointing above the fireplace.

  There, hanging on a pole like a flag, is the jacket Brianna was wearing the night she disappeared. It’s unmistakable. When we were talking at the bakery, Samantha mentioned how much Brianna loved that jacket. It’s apparently her favorite—a Christmas gift from her beloved grandmother a few years before, unwrapped just days after her death the week before the holiday. According to Samantha, she wears it as often as she can and takes careful care of it.

  The guys look at each other. They are obviously uncomfortable. I don’t blame them. They are standing in their living room in front of an FBI agent and a detective, trying to come up with an explanation as to why a jacket belonging to a missing woman hangs on the wall. They have every reason to be uncomfortable right now.

  “It’s from the party on Friday,” Nick says.

  “You had a party on Friday?” I ask.

  “There’s a party here every weekend,” Blaine says. “And a lot of weekdays too.”

  “What’s the story with the jacket?” Noah asks. “What happened at the party last Friday?”

  “Some girl came and was acting crazy. Showing off and trying to get attention. She showed up alone, and everybody was kind of ignoring her. She ended up getting up on the counter and dancing, then fell off,” Cooper says.

  Noah and I exchange glances.

  “That’s from a movie,” Noah accuses.

  Blaine nods. “Yep. When she climbed up there, she said that’s where she got the idea. I don’t know if that’s why she fell—if she did that on purpose to be like in the movie—or if it was just a coincidence. She was drunk out of her mind at that point, so it could be either.”

  “What time did she get to the party?” I ask.

  They all exchange looks again. Often, when I see this kind of behavior, it’s because the people in a group are trying to cover something up. They’re making sure that they are all on the same page and that none of them says something that contradicts the others. That could very well be the situation here. But they also might simply not know and are looking at the others in hopes of at least one of them having answers.

  “We weren’t really paying attention to the time. People were in and out pretty much all night. Roxy was definitely here around midnight and then was gone by three when I went to bed,” Nick says.

  “Roxy? Who are you talking about?” I ask.

  The three boys give me strange looks. Blaine points at Brianna’s jacket.

  “The girl whose jacket that is. Roxy. She was wearing it earlier in the night, and then I found it out on the lawn when I got up Saturday. She was being so ridiculous we thought it would be funny to put it up like this.”

  “She was calling herself Roxy?” Noah asks.

  “I mean, that’s what she’s called herself every time I’ve seen her. It’s not like I know her or anything, but she’s been here a couple of parties.”

  I take out my phone and pull up a picture of Brianna.

  “Is this her?”

  They all shake their heads.

  “No,” Cooper says. “Roxy has dark hair. Kind of short. Not as skinny as that girl.”

  “Can you get the jacket down?” I ask.

  Nick reaches up and tugs the jacket off the pole. He hands it to me, and I check for the telltale characteristics that market Brianna’s jacket. When I see the initials sewn into the back of the collar in gold thread and a tiny patch of a heart inside the left sleeve, both features added by her grandmother, there’s no question.

  “This jacket doesn’t belong to anyone named Roxy,” I tell them. “This belongs to the girl I just showed you. Her name is Brianna Wright.”

  “The missing girl?” Blaine asks.

  “Missing?” Cooper asks. “What do you mean missing?”

  “She was at a concert Friday night but left the venue before the show was over. She hasn’t been seen or heard from since. We tracked her movements to a road not far from here, and her best friend, whom she was with that night, confirmed that she and Brianna had come to a party here a few weeks ago. Her movements that night indicate that she was headed in this direction.”

  “You think she was coming here?” Nick asks.

  “I’ve never seen her,” Cooper insists, putting his hands up and physically taking a step back away from me like he’s trying to separate himself from the situation. “Like we said, we saw Roxy wearing that jacket.”

  “Are you sure it was that jacket and not one that looked like it?” Noah asks.

  None of them respond.

  “I need to know more about Roxy. You said nobody was paying any attention to her, but clearly, you were watching her well enough to know that. You know her name. I need to know how I could find her or get in touch with her. I need to confirm she was here that night and if this jacket actually does belong to her,” I say.

  “She was here,” Nick says firmly.

  “Then it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  This time, when the four look at each other, it’s like they are closing ranks. They can tell this is not looking good for them. I know one thing for certain, and it’s that this is Brianna’s jacket. If it really was found out on the lawn, it had to have gotten there somehow. I need to know how.

  “Look,” Cooper says, “I don’t know this girl. Either of them. I know I saw Roxy here Friday night. She was making so much of a scene I don’t think anybody could have missed her. You can talk to any of the other brothers and anyone else who was here. They’ll tell you the same thing. But I don’t know her. I wouldn’t know how to get in touch with her or where you’d find her. I don’t even know if she goes to this school. And I definitely don’t know anything about this missing girl.”

  “You said that she came to a party here before?” Nick says. “Does she go to school here?”

  “No,” I tell him. “She’s in high school.”

  “Shit,” Blaine groans, clawing the fingers of one hand back through his hair. “The dean has been getting on our asses for having underage girls at parties. Now one has gone and gotten herself snatched and killed or some shit.”

  Nick glares at him. “Why the fuck would you say something like that?” he mutters through clenched teeth.

  “I’m wondering about the same thing,” I say.

  Blaine’s eyes widen as he seems to realize what he said.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, I don’t know what happened to her—if anything happened to her. I’m just saying since you don’t know where she is…”

  I nod slowly. “All right. I get that you aren’t bosom buddies with this Roxy girl, but you obviously know her well enough that you know her name, could identify her, and thought it would be funny to string what you thought was her jacket up like a flag to humiliate her. That tells me there’s someone around here who can track her down. I need that information now.”

  “Call around,” Nick instructs Blaine. “Get as many of the brothers as you can and ask them about her. Coop, look through your pictures of the party. See if you can find some that have Roxy in them. I’ll get online and see if I can track her down.”

  With their orders administered, the boys go to work. Noah and I walk back into the larger living room, and he leans toward me so he can whisper without them hearing him.

  “Did you just say ‘bosom buddies’ to a bunch of teenage boys?”

  “I did. I stand by it,” I say.

  His eyebrow lifts.

  “Shut up.”

  It only takes a short time for Cooper to come up to us with his phone. He holds it out to me, displaying an image clearly taken in this room. In it, the room is dimly lit and crammed with people. The table in the center of the room is cluttered with bowls and plates of snacks, drink cups, and beer bottles. There are a few people sprawled on the floor or across the furniture, but no one seems concerned about them. He points to the corner of the image, and I see a dark-haired girl with her arms up over her head. It looks like she’s dancing wildly, but no one else around her is dancing.

  “That’s Roxy,” he says.

  I look more closely at the image. She does match the description the boys gave me when they were citing the differences between Roxy and Brianna. The distance of the picture, as well as everybody around her, makes it so I can’t clearly see what she’s wearing. She has on something dark with long sleeves that looks like it could be a jacket like Brianna’s, but it’s not a clear enough image for me to know for sure.

  “Do you have any other pictures with her in them?” I ask.

  He starts scrolling again, and a few seconds later, he turns the phone back around so I can see it. I notice the little icon at the bottom of the screen that indicates it’s actually a video, not an image. He clicks the screen to start it. The video shakes a little and pushes through a wall of people, then I see the kitchen counter. Roxy is standing on top of it. It seems this is the infamous moment they were telling me about earlier.

  Just like they described, Roxy is dancing on the counter, shouting and singing loudly. She keeps trying to make eye contact with different guys walking past, but other than some people taking videos and pictures of her, and others laughing, they don’t acknowledge that she’s there. A couple of girls around her start taunting her, but Roxy either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Her movements keep getting bigger, her arms flailing and her hips swiveling around until she is teetering treacherously at the edge of the counter. The entire time, the camera doesn’t move. I can hear Cooper laughing behind it.

  “You are clearly amused,” I point out flatly.

  “It was funny,” he says. “She kept trying to chat guys up and dance with them. She even sat in one dude’s lap and threw her arms around his neck, and he just plopped her onto the couch and walked away. So she hopped up there on the counter and just started flailing around.”

  “You were watching this happen and didn’t stop to think she could be in danger? That something bad could happen because she was acting out so much, especially on top of obviously drinking too much? Or were you just having too much fun laughing about it to think about the fact that she is a human being?”

  Cooper’s face darkens, and he takes the phone back. He walks out of the room, and Noah comes over to me.

  “Maybe not so aggressive?” he asks. “That was kind of a lot.”

  “Was it?” I ask. “The frat is in trouble for having underage girls at their parties getting drunk. That tells me there’s been a problem. Someone was hurt, and it was linked back to what’s going on at this house. So he’s a part of that, admits to knowing that this girl was drinking too much, but still decided it was a good idea to just stand there and record her humiliating herself and then falling off the counter because he thought it was funny. He didn’t even give it a second thought that Roxy is a human being and would have feelings about the situation. But you think I was aggressive?”

  “A few of the brothers clearly remember Roxy being here Friday night, but they don’t know how to get in touch with her. No one seems to actually know her,” Blaine says, coming toward us. “I guess that makes sense why she was acting that way. None of them remember talking to anybody by the name of Brianna.”

  I walk over to Nick, who is sitting on the edge of the couch and leaning over a laptop on the table in front of him. He’s scrolling through what looks like a collection of headshots. All are of young women.

  “What’s this?” I ask.

  He glances up at me, then back at the screen. “The Hive. It’s the university’s internal social network. You can match up with people to go to events and stuff., that kind of thing. All we have to go on is Roxy, so I put in Roxy and Roxanne. These are all the students at school and the recent alumni network with that name.”

  “Good thinking.”

  He continues to scroll, then stops, pointing at the screen. “That’s her.”

  I sit down, and he turns the computer toward me so I can see it better. The image of the serenely smiling girl is a contrast to the girl I saw in the picture and video of the party, but it’s definitely her. He clicks on the picture, bringing up a page with her details as well as several other pictures of her. I take out my phone and snap a picture of the image and the contact information beneath it.

  “This is great, thank you.” I stand up and hand him a business card. “Let me know if you think of anything or if anyone recognizes Brianna. I will likely have more questions for you soon.”

  Taking the jacket with me, I walk out of the house and back to my car. Cranking the engine to get the heat going, I take out my phone and send a text to the number included in Roxy’s information.

  “We need to get the jacket to forensics,” I say. “I know it’s been handled by a lot of people at this point, but I still want to see if we can take anything off it. They had to have gotten it from somewhere. If I drop you at the station, can you pass it along?”

  “Sure thing. Where are you going?”

  “Hopefully, I’ll hear from Roxy soon. Those guys seemed really convinced she was wearing this jacket. Why would she have it? And if she was wearing it, why did she leave it behind? I’d like to find out when she left and if she went with anyone,” I say. “I also want to talk to Samantha more about the party they went to. I’ll just grab some coffee and do some more digging.”

  Scarlet smiles at me from behind the counter when I walk back into the bakery.

  “Already back?” she asks.

  “Can’t resist,” I say. “Do you mind if I claim the same table?”

  She gestures toward the booth near the front window.

  “Not at all. Make yourself at home. Can I make you a coffee?”

  “That would be great. If you have any new snacks, throw one of those my way too.”

  She nods, and I go to the table, spreading out again. This already feels like my spot, my unofficial war room. Being in the police station with easy access to the officers and all the information we have available has its benefits, but there’s something to be said about getting a break from that environment and being somewhere like this. Not only is it just nice to not be doused in fluorescent light and surrounded by the incessant sounds of an active department, but sitting here somehow makes me feel more connected to the case.

  Maybe I’ve gotten too much influence from Xavier, but when I sit in the bakery and look out the window, I feel closer to Brianna. Seeing where she was and the environment she considered so familiar and comfortable gives me the sense that I can better understand her. I’ve always felt that way about visiting crime scenes. There’s something different about those spaces. Once something horrific has happened in an area, it’s changed. I once said it’s like the air is burned. That has shifted slightly.

  The thought of the air being burned by the horrors people inflict on each other implies something being taken away from the atmosphere. Instead, now I feel that something is added. A few years ago, I faced a dark chapter in my life by bringing Xavier with me to Feathered Nest. I didn’t know how much revisiting Cabin 13 would impact me and the people I love. At the time, I was searching for answers and confronting far more than just what happened to me when going undercover threw me in the path of a serial killer.

  While we were there, Xavier explained to me some of how he experiences the world around him. He talked about leaving energy behind. That going back to that cabin and the woods where it sat felt familiar—not just because I had been there before, but because I was sensing the bits of myself that had seeped into the structure and the ground. His description of the trees drawing in my breaths, literally making me a part of them, is something I’ll never forget. Those moments fundamentally changed the way I see the impact of crime or suspicious events on the world. The intensity of the emotion stays there. It adds to the surroundings, creating layers that can briefly feel almost tangible if you know how to look for them.

  I know I’ll never experience the world like Xavier does. His mind and everything it comes up with can’t be learned or developed. They are gifts. Sometimes that weird, waxy chocolate in the advent calendar or the last-claimed package at the white elephant exchange, but gifts nonetheless. So even though I don’t fully see or feel what he does, I know he has influenced me. He has introduced me to perceptions I never would have considered before. And this is one of those ways.

  I don’t know for sure if Brianna ever came to this bakery. But I think it’s very likely she at least spent time on this block. She has probably walked down this sidewalk. That means she has left her energy behind. Somehow it just feels appropriate to be here while I do everything I can to find her.

  Scarlet comes over to the table with coffee and a plate holding a ham-and-cheese croissant.

  “Maybe a little heavier than a snack, but you didn't try it the last time you were here,” she says.

  “It smells amazing.”

  “Good. Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asks.

  “No, this is good. But actually, you might be able to help me.”

  She looks curious. “I can try.”

  “Did you see on the news when the detective from the police department made a statement about a girl going missing from the concert on Friday?” I ask.