“Maybe.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Did Chloe ever mention Mike Basher to you?” I ask.

  “That idiot? No. He’s so gross.”

  “We’d know so much more if we could just find her damn journal. But the cops have searched her locker, the car. They’ve been all through her house and her room. Why would she keep a journal and then just get rid of it? What’s in there?”

  Olivia continues to twirl the drawstring. She seems to be twirling with greater intensity, and there’s a distant look on her face.

  “What?” I ask. “What are you thinking?”

  “The cops looked everywhere in her house?”

  “Of course. They’re cops. Why?”

  “Did you tell them about her secret hiding place?”

  She’s joking, right? But the look on her face says something else.

  “Olivia, what the hell are you talking about?”

  Forty-Eight

  Olivia’s mouth opens but nothing comes out for one of the few times in her life. Then she says, “I–I just assumed you knew.”

  “How do you know?”

  She drops the string and holds out her hands, asking me to calm down. “Okay. I’ll tell you. But you have to promise not to get mad.”

  “Mad?”

  “Not mad exactly. Just that overprotective big brother shit you do sometimes. You know, where you act like you know more than I do just because you’re older, but you really don’t, because we all know I’m the smart one.”

  “Livvy—”

  “Okay, okay. So right when the school year started, Gabby’s cousin came to visit. You know, the one who was here from San Antonio? Anyway, when she was leaving, she gave Gabby a joint. Just one. And she said we should try it sometime. Well, Gabby couldn’t keep it in her house because her mom is so uptight and checks her room all the time, and I didn’t want to ask you if it was okay to hide it in here because I knew you’d be all condescending and overprotective.”

  “I’m supposed to be that way.”

  “Yeah, I know. But…anyway. I was talking to Chloe about it one day at school, and she said she’d hold it for us. Well, first she gave me a lecture about being careful when we smoked it, but then she agreed to hold it. I thought being an only child her parents would be more up in her shit, but Chloe said she had a place in her room where she could stash stuff. A place her parents didn’t know about. She called it her secret hiding place.” Olivia shrugs as if it’s just that simple. “I figured you knew, too. I mean, you smoke, don’t you?”

  “Sure. But I never kept any in the house. Not that I think Dad would ever look. But Cameron always has weed when it’s not soccer season. His brother gets it for him.”

  “Okay, well, Chloe held our joint until we wanted it.”

  “So you did smoke it?”

  “Ugh. I don’t want you to ask that.”

  “Did you?” I ask.

  “Yes. Of course,” she says.

  “What happened?”

  “First, I giggled for thirty minutes straight. Then I just got really hungry. I mean, hungry like I’ve never been hungry. And, you know, I’m always hungry. Then I curled up in a ball and fell asleep on the floor. Gabby threw a blanket over me and went to bed.”

  “But you don’t know where Chloe kept the weed?”

  “No. She just said in her room.”

  “Damnit.” The sun slips away outside the window, leaving the sky orange and red along the horizon. The streetlight out front is coming on, casting a blue glow across the front yard.

  “You could just tell the police to search again,” Olivia says. “They could really dig in and find the spot.”

  “Yeah.” My breath steams against the window. I turn around, grabbing my chair and moving it closer to the bed so I’m within a foot of Olivia. “There’s just one problem with that. If the cops find that journal, then it might tell us—tell everyone—what was going on with Chloe. And what if…”

  “What if it makes you look bad? And by bad, I mean guilty. I mean, more guilty.”

  “Yeah.”

  Olivia shrugs. “I don’t know, Hunter. Isn’t that the risk you take?”

  “Her mom and the whole school already think I’m guilty.”

  “Her mom seems pretty bizarre,” Olivia says. “What a fake bitch.”

  “She’s worried about her daughter. It’s understandable.”

  “Sure. You’re right. Well, she’ll get the chance to trash you again tonight.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot you weren’t at school. The church Chloe’s parents go to is having some kind of dinner tonight. It’s a law enforcement appreciation thing, and I guess they’re using it to make sure people don’t forget about Chloe. The cops and volunteers are searching again this weekend. Massively. They want to get a ton of people out, and they’re worried they can’t get enough. Dad always says people have short attention spans and start to lose interest.”

  “I think he’s right.”

  “If they let her mom have a microphone again, she’ll probably start railing against you. Talk about people I’d like to punch…”

  “What time is this thing?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. Seven, I guess. Why? Do you want to go and get roasted in person again?”

  I can’t believe I’m about to say what I’m thinking.

  But I say it anyway.

  “No, of course not. But it means their house is going to be empty.”

  Forty-Nine

  We run into Dad in the kitchen.

  He comes out of his office, a red pen stuck behind his ear. He looks surprised to see the two of us leaving.

  “Where are you going?” he asks.

  Not only is Olivia the most honest person I’ve ever known, she’s also the world’s worst liar. On the rare occasions she tries to lie, she stutters and mumbles and ends up sounding exactly like someone who is lying.

  If she tries to tell Dad a story, we’re doomed.

  “Over to Hector’s,” I say. The lie appears in my mouth like magic. “They invited us. His mom is making fajitas.”

  “Fajitas?” Dad says the word like he’s never heard it before. “I was going to order Ray’s.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I say. “Sorry. We won’t be gone long.”

  “How are you doing on that homework?” Dad asks.

  “It’s slow,” I say, telling the truth. “But I made a little dent.”

  Dad nods. His eyes roam over the two of us, settling on Olivia. She shifts her feet and twirls a strand of hair.

  “Why are you going together?” Dad asks.

  “I figured you wouldn’t want me out alone. Right?”

  Dad nods at this. “And your sister can punch someone if there’s trouble?”

  “Dad, I—”

  “Easy, Olivia,” Dad says. “Dr. Whitley told me about your little dustup with the lacrosse player. He was actually pretty understanding given the circumstances. Just don’t deck anybody else. Got it?”

  “Sure, Dad, I was just going with Hunter because—”

  “It’s Hector’s grandmother’s birthday,” I say, cutting Olivia off. “That’s why they’re having a little party.”

  “And Olivia is really close to Hector’s grandmother, right?” Dad says.

  “They want a lot of people there,” I say. “She’s turning eighty.”

  “Okay.” Dad studies Olivia for a moment. She presses her lips into a tight line. “Drive safe. Stay together and keep an eye on each other, you hear? And don’t stay out long. I don’t want you falling so far behind on homework that you can’t get out of the hole. I know you have a lot on your mind, but you also need to get back to those college applications.”

  “Of course, Dad.”

  And with that, we’re out the door—in the car and free.

  I drive slowly and carefully, taking my time. Olivia is texting in the passenger’s seat.

  “I’m going to drive by once we get there,” I say. “The cops might be watching the house or something.”

  “Good idea.” She puts her phone in her lap. “Have you ever lied to Dad before? That was pretty badass. Does Hector even have a grandmother?”

  “I don’t know. Have you ever not talked back to Dad before?”

  “Never. It’s so unnatural.”

  “I guess I did lie about stuff I did with Chloe sometimes. You know, where we were going and what we were doing.”

  “It’s none of his business if you’re having sex. That’s private.”

  “I thought you hated that word.”

  “Don’t argue with me, Hunter.”

  “I didn’t know talking to you was the same thing as arguing.”

  “It’s none of Dad’s business. Okay?”

  “It’s certainly his business now,” I say. “Everything about our sex life came out with the cops. And with Dad right there.”

  “For real? That’s the most awkward thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “I think Dad gets it. We’re not little kids. You have a girlfriend now.”

  “Still, it’s so weird.”

  Chloe lives in a subdivision called Brighton Mews. It’s about thirty years old and has a lot of winding streets. The houses are all brick ranches, the yards green and perfectly trimmed. Despite having a lot of trees lining the streets, stray leaves and branches never land in anybody’s yard. It’s like they all magically disappear before they hit the ground. Haley mentioned not feeling comfortable in certain neighborhoods. Brighton Mews would be one of those places. It’s awfully, awfully white.

  It’s just turned dark, and most of the houses are lit up inside and out. Chandeliers over dinner tables, TVs in family rooms, computers in home offices. Everything glows. There are matching pumpkins and cornstalks on nearly every porch, the occasional bedsheet ghost hanging from a tree.

  I turn down Chloe’s street and take my time, expecting to see a cop car parked right out front. Maybe more than one. What if Chloe came home and no one was there to greet her? What if whoever took her came back?

  We cruise by her home, but there’s no one out front. A few lights burn inside, but there are no cars in the driveway or at the curb.

  “Are you sure they’re going out tonight?” I ask Olivia. “Her dad has a gun, you know. He keeps it in a safe, but still. I don’t want to get shot.”

  “Her mom tweeted about it.”

  “Laura’s on Twitter?”

  “All the time.” Olivia starts tapping her fingers against the door. “All. The. Time.”

  “Livvy? What is it?”

  “Well…you know… she’s just on there a lot. You know, saying things. About the case.”

  “About me?” I ask. “Is that what you’re not saying?”

  “Yeah. She’s keeping your name alive. And, let me tell you, I want some credit. I’ve managed not to mix it up with her. I mean, I really want to go after her, but I don’t. I just don’t.”

  “That’s good. We don’t need any more gasoline on the fire.”

  “I know that’s what you prefer, but sometimes you just need to light the match, you know? Kaboom.”

  We go around the block and check the Summerses’ house from the back. No cops there, either. No one on foot or any cars. We go around two more times and still see nothing.

  “You’re sure her window will be open?” Olivia asks.

  “It always is. The lock’s been broken for years. That’s how Chloe used to sneak out. Or how I would get in. Her parents even know about it.”

  “They might have fixed it after…you know, after she was gone.”

  “I guess so,” I say. “But if your daughter disappeared without her keys, and you knew there was a way for her to get back in, would you get it fixed? Maybe you’d leave it broken just in case?”

  Fifty

  We park two blocks away. We sit in the car and go over the plan one more time.

  “If you see anybody coming,” I say, “and I mean anybody, then you text me or call right away. I’ll have the phone set to vibrate. Okay?”

  “You already told me this,” she says. “I get it.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “We’re not landing at Normandy, Hunter.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure…And if you want to back out…”

  “Uhhh, you’re my brother, so we’re in this together. Okay? And the cops have to read you your rights and let you call a lawyer if there’s trouble. No matter what. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I say. “I’ve seen Law & Order.”

  We walk back toward the Summerses’ house. Someone is burning leaves, and there’s a smoky scent floating on the light breeze. The stars are out, like crisp and clear pinpoints in the dark sky. We move slowly, side by side, and except for our lack of costumes, I could imagine we were back in time, back to some previous Halloween when Olivia and I went trick-or-treating together. But we’re both in high school now, and we’ve been through too much for the illusion to last.

  We’re half a block from the Summerses’ when something rustles in the bushes to my left. It sounds like a dog, maybe a giant one about to bite us. But then a person climbs out wearing dark clothes, and I jump back, not sure if I should run or prepare to fight.

  “Easy,” a familiar voice says.

  The figure steps forward and gives Olivia a hug.

  “Gabby?” I ask.

  “It’s me,” she says.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Liv texted me. She said you needed backup.”

  “Livvy…” The more people who know…

  “She can watch the back while I watch the front,” Olivia says. “I can’t cover the whole place alone.”

  “Gabby, I don’t want you getting in any trouble. You don’t have to stay.”

  “Oh, I’m going to stay. Look, I’m dressed in black.” She points to her leggings and sweatshirt. “And I brought my switchblade.”

  “Your what?”

  “I’m kidding, Hunter. Chill. I don’t have a switchblade. Don’t you know immigrants commit crimes at a lower rate than natural-born citizens?”

  “I don’t care about that,” I say. “But Olivia shouldn’t be dragging you into this. It’s not a game.”

  Gabriela places her hand on my arm. “Hey, I’m here for you, Hunter. Don’t worry.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Thanks. But if there’s any trouble—if the cops come or whatever—then just run. Forget about me and get out of here. Both of you.”

  “You got it, boss,” Olivia says. Then she leans in and kisses Gabriela. “I’ll miss you, my love.”

  Gabriela rolls her eyes, and they head to their posts. I give them a few minutes to get positioned, and then I cut through the next-door neighbor’s backyard, heading toward the window into Chloe’s bedroom. The same window I’ve climbed through dozens of times when she was waiting on the other side.

  Fifty-One

  I cross the yard, crouched down, moving like a soldier in a war movie.

  Except I’m no soldier. My way of ducking across Chloe’s property might make me hard to see, or it might make me stand out like a firework in the night sky.

  I reach the back of the house and the windows to Chloe’s bedroom. There are two of them. They’re fairly large, side by side. Chloe always said she was glad she didn’t have any siblings to fight her for the bedroom with the big windows. She also liked that her parents’ bedroom was on the other side of the house, separated from Chloe’s by the kitchen and the living room. She—and we—always had a lot of privacy on her end of the house, which was something I liked, too.

  The left window is the one with the broken lock. I’ve opened it dozens of times, so I don’t even have to think. Using my fingers, I push the screen up as high as I can. I place my hands on the wooden frame and start to push it as well.

  At that moment, a shout comes from next door.

  I drop to the ground like someone has fired a gun. I lie there, frozen, the grass tickling my nose, the rich scent of damp earth filling my nostrils.

  Was it Olivia? Gabriela? But why would they shout?

  The person yells again.

  “Trevor?”

  “What, Mom?”

  “Get in here right now.”

  My held breath escapes. Just a kid getting chased inside by his mom. Although I never knew his name, I’ve seen that kid, Trevor, playing in his yard many times.

  I pick myself up, brush the grass and twigs off my clothes, and return to the window. I get a good grip on the frame again and push. As the window moves up it makes a squealing sound I never noticed before. It’s a surprise because the window used to have the opposite problem. It was so loose it would just slide closed behind me without anyone touching it. Or is it possible I never noticed the squeak because the stakes were never this high? How would it look if I got caught inside Chloe’s house now? What would everyone think?

  I push the window farther up, even though it sounds like a chorus of banshees howling in the night.

  Now the hard part.

  The part I’m not really sure I can do alone.

  Every other time I came over, Chloe was there, waiting for me. And when I boosted myself up, she would grab me by the arms and help pull me in. Chloe is strong. She’s almost as tall as I am. She’s lean and fit. When she’d grab my arms as I pulled myself up, I could feel the strength in her grip.

  Conversely, when Chloe snuck out of the house to see me, it was easy. She’d just jump out, and I’d steady her when she landed.

  All of a sudden, I wonder—had she been sneaking out of the house to meet someone else?

  Had she helped someone else in to see her?

  It doesn’t matter now. Tonight, I have to do it by myself. I have to jump up, pull myself in, and swing all my body weight over the sill without anyone helping me.