“The cops had my phone. Again. They already searched it when Chloe.…”

  I don’t finish the thought. I don’t have to.

  “That’s a fucked-up invasion of your privacy,” Chad says.

  “I’m kind of getting used to it,” I say. “That’s what’s really wrong about it. Are you two just here to check on me?” I force a laugh. “As you can see by the way I answered the door, I’m a little anxious.”

  Chad looks over at Hannah, who has her arms on the table, her hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. She nods when Chad looks at her.

  “We wanted to tell you some stuff we found out,” she says.

  I sit up a little straighter. “Okay.”

  “My dad obviously knows every lawyer in town,” she says.

  “Yeah,” I say, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Hannah’s dad is one of the best-known personal injury lawyers in Bentley. His ads run on television what seems like twenty-four hours a day. It’s not clear why anyone gave him any business since he has a comb-over that looks he’s wearing bacon strips on his head. But he apparently makes a lot of money, because Hannah’s family lives in a huge house on a lake outside town.

  “Well, he was talking on the phone last night to one of his lawyer friends,” she says. “And they were talking about Daniel.” She squirms a little. “About him getting killed.”

  Chad jumps in. “I was there, and I heard it, too. Her dad is louder than fuck. You know that, right? We didn’t even have to eavesdrop. We could just hear him, like he had a megaphone.”

  I sit up even straighter, my spine rigid. “So what did you hear?”

  Hannah nods again. She touches her hair, pats a strand into place. “My dad was saying that whoever broke into the house and killed Daniel—well, it wasn’t your typical robbery where the person just takes everything. They only took certain things from the house.”

  “Yeah,” Chad says. “It’s like they were looking for something specific.”

  “Like what?” I ask. “They aren’t rich.”

  “You’re right,” Hannah says. “But from what we heard Dad say, Daniel’s mom had some jewelry in her bedroom. A couple of antique rings she got from her mother. And a bottle of pain pills from when she had knee surgery. And…” She scrunches up her face as she tries to remember. “Oh, and a laptop. She had a laptop in her room that they didn’t touch. It was right out in the open, too.”

  “And there was a gun and a bunch of papers in the closet,” Chad says. “Apparently, people love to break in and steal guns.”

  “Exactly,” Hannah says. “All that stuff is just what some random burglar would want to steal. A gun. Pills. Jewelry and computers. Those are the kinds of things they can sell easily.”

  “So what did they take?” I ask. “What was missing if all this stuff wasn’t?”

  They exchange a look, as if deciding which one of them is going to deliver the news. They look at each other that way for what feels like an hour, so I jump in.

  “Well?” I ask.

  Chad looks away from Hannah and directly at me. “Whoever did it only took Daniel’s things. His computer and all his film equipment. It’s like that’s what they were looking for. Daniel’s movie stuff.”

  It feels like something pushes me, knocks me back against the wooden slats of the chair. His movie stuff?

  “Do you know what he was doing, Hunter?” Hannah asks. “On Twitter, people are saying you went over there to look at a movie or something.”

  “Yeah. He was making a movie about Chloe’s disappearance, and he wanted to show me. He thought it was his big break.”

  “You saw it?” Chad asks.

  “Part of it. And it made me look guilty.”

  “How?” Hannah asks.

  “It just rehashes all the same shit,” I say. “How I was the last one to see Chloe. How I can’t remember the accident. Everything everybody is saying about me.”

  “That’s messed up,” Hannah says.

  Chad lets out a long sigh. “Damn.”

  “Yeah, damn,” Hannah says. She squirms in her chair. “My dad said that the person who movie stuff must not have wanted what was on there to ever see the light of day.”

  Thirty

  Their words sink in and make me feel colder.

  “So they took his film equipment?” I ask. “He probably has it all backed up. It’s probably on the cloud.”

  “Not everyone keeps things backed up,” Chad says. “I don’t.”

  “Shit,” I say, feeling a mixture of hope and fear. “If they find out who killed him, maybe they can find out who took Chloe. Maybe the two things are related after all.”

  They exchange another look before Chad clears his throat and says, “But you just said the movie made you look guilty. So…”

  I shiver again. “Do you two have to leave soon? I was going to put some clothes on.”

  “Get dressed, Hunter,” Hannah says. “We’ll wait.”

  I go upstairs with a hurricane of thoughts swirling through my head. Whoever killed Daniel didn’t want anyone to see the movie. And I don’t want anyone to see it. Also, I can’t remember what happened the night Chloe disappeared. Can I remember everything that happened the night Daniel died?

  I pull on a sweatshirt, jeans, and shoes. I look at the rumpled sheets on the bed where I barely sleep anymore.

  Am I sure of anything? Has my mind broken down entirely?

  I hustle downstairs, moving with greater purpose, remembering what Chad told me at school the other day.

  Hannah’s tapping away at her phone, while Chad stares out the back window where leaves fall at an accelerated rate in the wind.

  “Hannah, you need to tell me something,” I say. “Chad said you told him Chloe was upset the night of the accident. And she said I was mad about something. What’s that all about?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Hannah stops tapping on her phone and looks up.

  “So, what happened the night of the dance?” I ask. “Chloe told you I was angry about something and she wanted to get out of there before I…” I turn to Chad. “What did you say? Before I ‘acted on it’?”

  Chad nods. “Tell him, Hannah. Go ahead.”

  “I thought you already told him,” she says.

  “He wants to hear it from you.”

  I sit down across from her. “Actually, what I want to know is…” My eyes move back and forth between them, and I’m hoping Chad will step in and help.

  Chad knows what’s coming. Something dark moves across his face and dims the wattage by about 20 percent. I’ve seen his face do this before, subtly change when he doesn’t like what someone is saying. It happened at the vigil when the guy in the Titans hat pointed me out and Chad tried to shut him up.

  But Chad is silent—he’s going to make me put it in words.

  Hannah watches me, uncertainty on her face.

  “Okay, Hannah,” I say. “You saw Chloe do and say all of this, and Chad says you only told the police the part about Chloe being upset. Not the part about her being afraid I’d act on it or whatever. But here’s the thing—how do I know it really happened? How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  For a frozen moment Hannah just stares at me, phone in one nearly sleeve-covered hand, her lower lip out a little farther than the upper. Then a flush passes over her cheeks, one deeper than the red that’s almost always there.

  “Are you shitting me, Hunter?” she says. “Are you really going to accuse me of lying?”

  “I’m saying this is important, Hannah. No exaggeration. Okay? It’s life and death. And you didn’t tell the police all of this…so I can’t help but wonder.”

  “I didn’t tell the police to help you,” she says. “Because you and Chloe are my friends. But now you want to throw something that happened when we were fifteen back in my face. Because I made out with some guy on vacation.”

  “It’s not about that,” I say. “You’re just making it sound like Chloe was afraid of me and…look, Chloe had no reason to be afraid of me. I love her. You both know that.”

  My voice cracks a little, and their eyes widen.

  “Besides,” I say, “why would Chloe tell you all of this? I mean…Hannah, Chloe doesn’t even like you that much.”

  “Oh, okay,” Hannah says. “You’re going to go there.”

  “It’s true,” I say.

  Hannah is undeterred.

  She stands up and pushes her chair toward the table. “I’m not doubting that you love her, Hunter. I know you do. Okay? I see the way you look at each other. But whatever happened that night had Chloe freaked out. And scared. She said you didn’t understand, that you felt betrayed. And it wasn’t good. That’s literally what she said. ‘This isn’t good.’ Okay? Are you happy? And maybe she talked to me because she couldn’t talk to you. Because she was so nervous about what you were going to think. And I was there for her when she needed someone.” She looks at Chad and waves her hand toward the door, shaking her head. “Come on, Chad. We’re going to be late. Elisa likes you more than she likes me.”

  Chad gets to his feet. He nods my way but doesn’t say anything as he follows Hannah out the door.

  Thirty-One

  Back in my room, I try to make sense of what Chad and Hannah have told me. Someone not only killed Daniel, but they took all his movie stuff. His movie equipment—and the movie he was making—implicates me.

  Daniel sent me the file, the very thing someone tried to cover up.

  I grab my phone and start to scroll through my messages to find it. I’m almost there when Dad calls.

  He doesn’t even say hello. He just starts talking. He sounds sort of out of breath like he just ran up a flight of stairs before he made the call.

  “Did you make another video and post it on YouTube?”

  Before I can answer, he keeps going.

  “Damn it, Hunter. I just got a call from the lawyer, and she’s furious about this. And so am I. Do you know how bad it is when you go off and talk without a lawyer around? The cops can use anything you say against you. Do you understand how serious all of this is?”

  “Dad—”

  “She’s threatening to drop your case. And I already paid her a retainer.”

  “Dad—”

  “I know you’re upset. And I know you’re grieving. I get it. And I know all you kids put everything online all the time. You always have your phones—”

  “Dad!”

  He finally stops. His breathing comes through the phone. “What?”

  “Did you see the video?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “But you’re jumping my shit about it?”

  “Hunter, the point is you have to keep quiet and listen to your lawyer. You’re in way deep here.”

  “Dad, the video is just me asking for help,” I say. “It’s telling people what happened to Daniel, just like the other one is about Chloe. I’m asking if anybody knows anything. How else are we supposed to get the word out?”

  “Let the cops handle it,” he says.

  “How are they going to do it? On the evening news? The newspaper? This is how young people communicate. Don’t you think kids are more likely to know what happened to Chloe? And Daniel? Maybe it’s Mike Basher, Chloe’s ex-boyfriend. He kept hanging around Chloe’s house long after they broke up. Maybe they need to talk to him. Or maybe it’s—”

  I stop myself. I can’t say it.

  “Maybe it’s what?” Dad asks.

  Hannah?

  “Forget it,” I say.

  “Hunter, just…look, I’m coming home in a little bit. After this exam. We can talk more about it then. But for now, just stay in the house and stay off the internet.”

  He hangs up on me.

  “Shit,” I say.

  I hold the phone in my hand like it might bite me.

  The lawyer thinks. The police think. The school thinks.

  Dad thinks.

  Second period starts in twenty minutes. I forget about Daniel’s movie for a minute and send an email to the one person I still haven’t talked to, the one person who might be able to make sense of everything. He’s free next period, and despite his aversion to social media, he does check his email.

  He’s in class and can’t answer right away, but I’m hoping to hear from him by the time I get there.

  I park at the far edge of the school lot, away from any prying eyes.

  It takes a few minutes to get a response.

  Hunter—See you in five. Ron H.

  Thirty-Two

  Ron comes out the back of the building and, after looking around for a moment, sees my car and heads my way.

  Ron’s a thin guy, a few years older than my dad, which puts him in his early fifties. His clothes are always rumpled, and his hair always looks like he was just out in a storm. But he’s not a slob. In fact, Ron speaks in a very precise, educated way, even more so than any of the other teachers in the school. He was born in Maryland, but he seems like a guy who came from another country, maybe even another time. He’s that well-mannered.

  He pulls open the passenger door, letting in a cool gust of air, and slides into the seat. Once he’s in, he runs his hand through his hair. It makes no difference.

  He slaps me on the knee. “Good to see you, Hunter. I’ve been reflecting on your situation a great deal. And it’s terrible. Just terrible.”

  “Yes, it’s been kind of wild. Obviously. It’s scary just to leave the house.”

  I’ve found it odd that Ron hasn’t reached out to me more often. He sent one get-well message after the accident, but other than that, nothing. He has to know he’s my favorite teacher. He knows he’s the guy I go out of my way to talk to every day.

  It’s as if he reads my mind.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been in better touch,” he says. “I went by the hospital the morning after the accident, but you were in no condition to have visitors. I imagine you were consumed with talking to the police. And I know how fraught that can be.”

  “Yeah. I heard you came by.”

  “I was also informed that you stopped by the office, but I’d come down with something wicked, and it kept me laid up for a few days. I’ve thought of you often—and Chloe, too, of course.”

  “It’s been pretty terrible. I’m not sure... I guess I don’t know what to make of any of it. I don’t know who to trust. I can’t even trust my own mind.”

  Ron nods as though he understands. “You’ve become the unreliable narrator of your own life.”

  “I guess so.”

  “And you really can’t remember anything from that night?” he asks.

  “Nothing important.”

  “I see.” He taps his fingers against his thigh. “I suppose it’s possible that if memories do come back, they may not be reliable, either. They might be some kind of false memories. Almost worthless.”

  “Are you serious?” I ask.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Everything is a mess. And I’m sorry I used the Ex Libris YouTube channel to share those videos. I wanted to reach people in the school.”

  “Oh, someone mentioned that to me. I don’t know what any of that stuff means. Besides, it’s free speech.” Ron cocks his head, studies me from under his shaggy brows. “Do you want to tell me about some of the important things that have been going on? I presume that’s why you reached out. For my words of wisdom?”

  It feels good to have someone listening. Really listening.

  I give him a rundown of the past week or so, especially the past couple of days. The words just pour out of me. Ron is the first person I’ve told all this to—besides the police—since the accident. Everyone else was either right there as things were happening or they knew more about them than I did.

  Ron listens, nodding along. His attentiveness encourages me to keep talking.

  When I pause, he rubs his chin. There’s ink on his fingertips. “It has been quite a whirlwind around here,” he says. “And it sounds like you’re in the eye of it.”

  “Right. But I can’t remember what happened to Chloe. And even though I was with Daniel that night, I left before it all went down. At least I think I did. Maybe I’m losing my mind. Maybe the accident did more harm than anyone realized, and I can’t remember any of the things I’ve been doing.”

  “You really think that?”

  “I’m starting to wonder,” I say. “I don’t know.”

  Ron taps against the window, indicating the school. “This whole community is in distress. There was talk about canceling classes when Daniel’s body was found, but it was decided we’d be better off letting students come in and use the resources here. The administration has brought in extra counselors. Everybody’s raw. You are wise to stay away.”

  “That’s what the school wanted,” I say. “And so did my dad.”

  “An intelligent man, your father.”

  “Did you know Daniel? Did he ever take your class?”

  “I don’t believe so. There’ve been so many students over the years. I’m sorry to say I’m starting to forget more and more.” He rubs his chin again. “So, you really can’t remember anything of that night? Not a thing?”

  “Bits and pieces, mostly from earlier at the dance. Nothing about the accident.”

  “And, yet, you said your friends, Chad and…what’s the young lady’s name?”

  “Hannah.”

  “Right. Her father’s the lawyer, isn’t he? You just told me your two friends say Chloe was upset about something that night. And she was worried about you losing control in some way. She never mentioned anything to you about why she was so upset? I thought the two of you seemed quite close.”

  “Yes. But I don’t know what was bothering her. I mean…”

  “You mean…what?” he asks.