To tell my side of the story.

  Dad and the lawyer will be pissed again. Really pissed.

  “By now, you know what I’ve done. And it’s true. I did go into Chloe’s house and take her journal. I didn’t break in, which is what everyone else is saying. I knew her bedroom window would be unlocked, because Chloe and I had used it before. Maybe I’m splitting hairs. Or maybe I’m admitting I could get into their house anytime I wanted. Some people say that proves I’m the one who kidnapped Chloe, even though that doesn’t make any sense. Everybody knows Chloe was with me at homecoming and that we left together. But I guess I’m done trying to make sense of everything.”

  I shift in the chair. The red eye still examines me, making me feel awkward.

  “I turned the journal over to the police because I want them to find Chloe. That was my goal all along. That’s why I went right to Detective Haley once I read it. And I know I made a wrong assumption about what I read in the journal. I know I was wrong about Mike Basher.”

  I nod my head, certain of something. More certain of this than anything else.

  “I do want to say something clearly. I’m sorry, Mike. I’m sorry to you and your family and your friends. I was wrong, and the police know that. And I know everybody makes fun of the way you play quarterback, but if you decide to change positions, you should think of linebacker. You tackle very well.”

  I don’t smile. But maybe somebody will think it’s funny since everybody knows I went after Basher, and he slammed me to the ground.

  “Anyway, I’m still a person of interest. That’s what the police say. And I’m being charged with trespassing for going into Chloe’s house without permission. They’re threatening to charge me for tampering with evidence, too, but I don’t know if that’s for real or just a threat. But I know they really want to charge me with kidnapping and murder. They really want to get me for the big stuff, and they’re just hoping something comes up that allows them to do that. Then everyone in town will be happy.”

  My throat feels dry. I swallow and decide to go on, even with a mouth that feels like I chewed on cotton balls.

  “From reading Chloe’s journal, I know something was wrong in her life, something she felt she couldn’t tell me. She says she wanted to tell me on the night of homecoming, and maybe she did. I can’t remember. But even if she did tell me, I’m guilty. I’m guilty of not doing enough to get her to tell me what was wrong before that night. Whatever was happening, she didn’t feel right telling me. And that’s a failure on my part. If not being able to hear what she had to say meant causing something awful to happen to her, then I’m guilty of that as well. I should have been there for her, and she should have felt safe telling me.”

  I clear my throat.

  “If she’d done that, then maybe none of this would have happened.”

  I feel like I’m finished and reach to turn off the camera, but then something else occurs to me.

  “Tomorrow morning is Daniel’s funeral. I can’t go. The police told me it wouldn’t be right, and my dad agrees. I guess I do, too, even though we were once very good friends. But I think all of you should go, especially if you live in town and especially if you go to Garrett Morgan. Daniel’s mother is a single mom, raising him on her own. She doesn’t have a lot of family here and she needs all the support she can get. So please go. For her. And for Daniel.”

  I take a deep breath.

  “I guess that’s all. So. Yeah, that’s it for now. Maybe for always.”

  I turn off the camera.

  I really, really want to share the video. I know all the reasons not to: Dad, the police, the school, the town.

  But I want to be heard as well. I want my side of the story to get out.

  Everyone else is talking about me, and I want to have my say.

  But is it worth it? Does anything I’m doing make a difference? Is any of it getting us any closer to finding Chloe?

  Depression lands on my shoulders like a shroud.

  My finger hovers above the phone, ready to share. But I can’t summon the energy now.

  I drop my hand and leave the video unposted.

  Sixty-Six

  Dad orders pizza, and the three of us eat our half-pepperoni, half-mushroom mostly in silence.

  Olivia does her best to cheer us up. She tells a long story about Gabriela’s cousin’s Halloween costume. Gabriela’s cousin is four years old and obsessed with Frozen, so she wants to dress up like Elsa. Her mother had the kid try on the costume just to see if it fit, but then she refused to take it off. She’s been sleeping in it ever since.

  Olivia laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard, and even Dad, who usually refuses to act like little kids are funny, manages a small smile. The story strikes me as pointless.

  “I’m going to do my homework,” I say.

  “There’s ice cream,” Dad says. “Vanilla and pistachio.”

  “Oh,” Olivia says, “I kind of demolished the vanilla yesterday.”

  “I bought more on my way home,” Dad says. “Besides, we all know Hunter’s favorite is pistachio.”

  “I’m okay,” I say. “Maybe later.”

  “Are you feeling sick?” he asks. “Your head? Haley said you hit the ground pretty hard at Basher’s house.”

  “That really isn’t bothering me much. Hardly at all.”

  Dad’s worried about me. He’s held off on a lecture about the trespassing charge. He knows every dead end means we’re further away from finding Chloe. And every dead end means I look guiltier and guiltier.

  So he tolerates my moodiness and lets me go to my room.

  But what do I do there? I’m sick of homework. Sick of studying and never getting to talk about any of the things I’ve read. Sick of emailing my work in and then getting emails back from my teachers. I don’t feel very motivated to write college essays, either.

  I sit in front of my computer and open Daniel’s movie, skipping ahead to where the homecoming footage starts.

  Chloe.

  Even though I’ve seen it so many times—backward and forward—her image fascinates me. We talk. Argue? We get into the car and drive off, knowing that only minutes remain before the mystery begins. There’s a break in the filming like the camera was turned off. And then it comes right back on.

  Again and again, I watch.

  My brain feels locked and unable to look away.

  Again and again. The same thing. After that break, I always stop before that second car comes up behind us. Maybe that car means nothing. Maybe it was just some kids who grew bored with the dance and wanted to get high or drunk or just get the fuck away from the smothering crowds in the gym. Maybe it was someone not connected to us at all. An Uber driver turning around. An old guy out for an evening drive. A teacher leaving his or her office.

  The chair squeaks as I lean back. Thinking. The movie continues to play. The other car pulls out and then... Daniel cut the film poorly here. It’s a rough cut, but everywhere else his cuts were precise and smooth. He seems to have the tech side of things down, but he still needs help with his storytelling. But this is the only weird cut.

  After the car drives off, the camera drops quickly, as though Daniel is lowering it. It’s like he put the camera down but didn’t stop recording. The sudden movement causes a swirling like on an amusement park ride. Everything on the screen blurs, the landscape sweeping by. It passes over a row of parked cars and then drops to the ground before it cuts away.

  Just a rushing blur of images.

  But why is that blur there when the rest of the movie was edited so precisely?

  Was that an accident? A mistake?

  Five times. Ten times. I watch that blurring sweep of the camera so many times I feel motion sick. But at the end of the cut, which I freeze over and over, I see nothing.

  Nothing.

  I turn off the movie and close my laptop, with no choice but to go back to reading for class. At least I saved the best for last. A novel for my AP English class. One I’ve always wanted to read.

  Kindred by Octavia Butler.

  The words refuse to make any sense. They don’t register because my head is somewhere else.

  That movie. The weird, blurry cut.

  Like Daniel wanted to show something on the ground but didn’t.

  Still, if it was so important, he’d show it to the viewer? Wouldn’t he?

  “No,” I say out loud.

  If it’s important, and I mean really important, he’d put it at the end of the movie where it would have the most impact.

  Maybe Daniel knew more about storytelling than I realized.

  Maybe.

  I’m off the bed, grabbing my keys.

  Sixty-Seven

  Lights burn inside the house, and two cars sit in the driveway.

  As I wait after knocking, under the glowing porch light, I look back out to the yard. Where I last saw Daniel. We argued right there on the lawn when I told him we weren’t friends anymore.

  My face flushes with shame.

  The knob rattles and turns, and all of a sudden, I’m face-to-face with Daniel’s mom, Elizabeth. It’s been a few years.

  She looks the same. She’s a tall woman, taller than me. She always seemed strong and capable, which makes sense since she’s an ER nurse. Her reddish hair is a little grayer, and she looks tired. Her eyes are red, her skin pale. She buried her only child just this morning, and if she’s mad at the world and wants someone to take it out on, that person is probably going to be me.

  She stares at me for a long time, sadness on her face.

  And then she says, “Oh, Hunter,” in the saddest voice ever, and she’s squeezing me tight. I start to cry. She’s crying, too.

  Then we’re next to each other on the couch. Her arm is around me, and we both wipe our faces with tissues that appeared out of nowhere. Another woman is in the room, lingering in the doorway to the kitchen. She smiles at me.

  “This is my friend, Kelcey,” Elizabeth says. “She’s been my rock through all of this. We’ve grown really close over the past year. I was so scared to be here after what happened to Daniel, but she stayed with me. And I wanted to be with all the good memories. Kelcey, this is Daniel’s friend, Hunter. They grew up together.”

  The woman nods and asks if I want anything. Elizabeth tells her to bring me a glass of water.

  I say, “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. And I want you to know I would never hurt Daniel. Never. We had an argument, but that’s all.”

  “I know, Hunter,” she says, pulling me closer. “Shhh. I don’t pay attention to all the things people say on social media or anywhere else. None of that matters. This has been a struggle for me, a lot of complicated feelings. But I decided I know who you are. I’ve known you a long time.”

  “Well, I’m still sorry.”

  “I know you are. And I’m glad you’re here.”

  “They told me not to go to the funeral.”

  “Someone told me that. I knew I’d see you sometime. I just knew. When someone knocked on the door, I thought to myself, ‘Maybe that’s our Hunter.’”

  “I came over in case you wanted to talk about Daniel. In case you needed something.”

  “Thank you, Hunter. I’ve been talking a lot about Daniel. With friends and family…” She looks away and nods her head at a private thought. “Yes, I have.”

  Kelcey hands me a glass of water, which immediately makes me feel better. I ask Elizabeth if the police know anything more.

  “They don’t,” she says. “Oh, they talk a big game about working every lead, but they don’t know. This life is a mystery to all of us. And it’s a mystery to them, too. I think they’re hoping they find out what happened to Chloe and that will tell them what happened to Daniel. It’s their best strategy so far, but it’s not much.” She rubs my arm. “More importantly, how are you doing, kiddo? You’ve been having a rough ride.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Are you?”

  “Not really.”

  “I didn’t think so. None of us are.”

  “No, we’re not.”

  “How’s your head? You have a hellacious bump there. Concussions can be brutal.”

  “It’s getting better.”

  It feels good to be held the way she holds me. It’s the safest I’ve felt since homecoming. And it’s something only a mother can do.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?” I ask.

  “This visit is nice,” she says. “But I get the feeling you’re looking for something.”

  “I was. But let’s just forget it. You have enough going on.”

  “Let me decide how much I have going on. What if I want the distraction? Maybe it would make me feel better to help someone.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “I am.”

  “Okay, I did come over to ask for something,” I say.

  “What’s that?”

  “I was hoping I could look at some of Daniel’s files,” I say. “Detective Haley told me that everything was backed up.”

  “You can look at whatever you want,” she says. “What’re you looking for?”

  “It’s kind of a long shot,” I say.

  “Most good things are.”

  “I’m just wondering if there’s something Daniel filmed that I might understand. And if I could just look at it…well, maybe we could all know what the hell is going on around here.”

  Elizabeth appears to think this over, nodding her head. “Well, I’d love for someone to find out what’s going on around here. But my mind can’t really imagine what that might be.”

  Sixty-Eight

  “Do you have a laptop with you?” she asks.

  “No,” I say.

  Whoever killed Daniel took his. They took every piece of computer and film equipment he had.

  So Elizabeth gets out her laptop and logs onto the cloud. She explains that she and Daniel shared a storage account. “And,” Elizabeth says, “I was the one paying for all of it. So here are his files.”

  Elizabeth sets me up at the dining room table. There are a lot of files on the screen. A lot. It hits me like my physics homework. Overwhelming.

  I take a deep breath and start looking.

  Daniel’s folders are all labeled, and it looks like he was working on a ton of different projects. There are folders labeled “Cop Show,” “Sci-Fi,” “Epic,” “War,” “Pilots,” and on and on.

  One is labeled “True Crime.” Within that folder there are hundreds of files: videos, word documents, images, designs. Unfortunately, those files aren’t labeled individually. They just say “scene” over and over. I have to click on each file to see what it holds.

  When my neck feels stiff like an old man’s, my phone buzzes. It’s Dad asking me where I am. I tell him the truth. Dad writes back a simple: Okay.

  Then a moment later: Please tell her how sorry I am.

  Elizabeth appears at my side. “Tired?”

  “He shot a lot of stuff,” I say.

  “You know Daniel. He always had his camera going.” Elizabeth yawns and stretches. “Maybe you need a break.”

  “I should go. I’m keeping you up.”

  “It’s okay,” she says.

  But I’m not sure.

  “Can I show you one thing I found?” I ask, clicking a file on her desktop.

  A handwritten sign appears: “Monster Wars”

  Years evaporate. I know exactly where I am—a hot summer day. The smell of dirt and grass. Daniel and I are nine, and we’re making a movie in his backyard. Plastic dinosaurs fighting it out for supremacy on a distant planet.

  It all comes back when I open my eyes and watch. A T.Rex is the king of one group of plastic dinosaurs. A brontosaurus is the king of the other. The dinosaurs pile on top of one another, and you can totally see the strings we used to move them around. Even worse, you can see our hands moving into the frame from time to time when the strings didn’t work.

  It’s the stupidest little movie ever. Also, the most amazing. Because Daniel is alive, right there on the screen. Alive the way I remember him: a smart, creative, energetic kid. And my best friend.

  When those four minutes are up, tears blur my vision. Elizabeth sniffles next to me.

  “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “No, you didn’t. I’m so glad you showed me.”

  I play it again. And again. I feel guilty over the way we drifted apart. And the way we fought that last night.

  And I also want to roar along with it, because it feels so good to see Daniel again.

  Sixty-Nine

  Another hour passes, and my eyes are even blearier.

  My neck is killing me, and now my back hurts, too.

  A thought starts to take root—maybe there is nothing to find. If the cops haven’t found anything, why would Daniel?

  Elizabeth comes back into the room. She and Kelcey have been in the kitchen talking and making plans for a trip to Florida. She places her hand on my shoulder. “Do you think I can help you figure out what you’re looking for?”

  “I wish you could. But I don’t know what it is.” I tell Elizabeth about the shot in the parking lot, the way the camera drops as though it’s going to show the viewer something on the ground. “I just don’t know what could be on the ground that’s so important. And there’s so much footage to get through.”

  “He wasn’t the most organized kid,” she says.

  “Did he talk about the movie? Did he talk about…anything? Who he wanted to interview or what he still wanted to add?”

  Elizabeth sits next to me. She has reading glasses pushed up on top of her head, resting in an unruly pile of her red hair. “He didn’t say much. One of my big regrets, Hunter, is that I had to work so much. Daniel spent a lot of time on his own, and when I came home from work, I was tired. That’s just the way it is as a single parent. Your dad is getting a taste of that.”