I texted Ruby real quick, and saw her look down at her phone.

  Where is Zoe going, do you know? Don’t tell her I’m asking.

  Zoe and Adele were still talking, but Ruby looked around like she was trying to spot me. I ducked down. I didn’t want to blow this now. And a second later, Ruby texted back.

  I don’t know. WHERE ARE YOU?

  More later, was all I wrote back. By then, Zoe was heading out and fast-walking up toward Kentucky Avenue.

  As soon as she turned the corner out of sight, I cut diagonally across the fields, scaled the fence, and dropped onto the sidewalk.

  It took a second to spot Zoe, but then I saw her maybe fifty yards ahead. She had her Beats on, which helped. She was also moving with a purpose.

  I’d never tailed anyone like this. I was nervous and excited. All I really knew was that I had to stick close enough so I wouldn’t lose her, and far enough away so she wouldn’t notice me.

  By the time I was trailing Zoe across Lincoln Park, I was also officially into one of Nana Mama’s red zones. It wasn’t a bad neighborhood, but it was farther from home than that map of hers said I was allowed to go by myself.

  Oh, well. Dad says when I get onto something important, I’m like a dog with a bone. And I definitely wasn’t letting go of this one anytime soon.

  After about fifteen minutes, Zoe stopped at Capitol Hill Supermarket on Massachusetts Avenue. I didn’t know if this was where she’d been heading all along, or if she was just making a stop. The market was too small for me to follow her inside. All I could really do was wait there behind a parked truck and hope she came back out again.

  And after ten long, tense minutes of waiting, she finally did.

  She had two heavy-looking grocery bags now. Both of them were hanging on her good arm. It didn’t seem to slow her down, though.

  Just past Union Station, she turned right onto First Street. Then she went a few more blocks and took another right, onto K Street.

  It was ten after four by then, and I knew we had to be getting close. So I hurried up to First and K, then stopped to scope out the next block.

  Sure enough, Zoe was right there.

  It was an underpass, like a little one-block tunnel. Up above, the train tracks ran into and out of Union Station. Down here on street level, it was some kind of camp for people experiencing homelessness. There were tents on the wide sidewalks, with a row of huge steel and concrete columns up the middle of the street.

  Some people were coming and going like regular pedestrians, but a lot of other people were hanging out, not going anywhere.

  I saw a guy cooking on a camp stove, and a kid playing cards with his dad on a cardboard box. An older girl in a long sweater was sitting on a milk crate and looking at her phone. A lot of the tents had words spray-painted on their sides, too.

  OCCUPIED!

  PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE

  PRIVATE PROPERTY, DO NOT ENTER

  I’d heard about these camps, but I didn’t know much about them. The people I saw experiencing homelessness every day were always out on the street. At least these folks had a roof over their heads, I guess.

  Not that it was much.

  Zoe was talking to an old lady by her tent. She’d set down her bags and was handing the lady a wrapped sandwich and a bottle of water.

  “God bless you, sweetheart,” the lady said, and gave her a hug before Zoe moved on down the row.

  The only place for me to keep watching without getting spotted was from the other side of those columns down the middle of the underpass. I waited until Zoe wasn’t looking, and scooted halfway across the street. Then I ducked in behind the barrier that kept cars from hitting the columns. I’d be safe there.

  Safe enough, anyway.

  I watched while Zoe worked her way along the sidewalk. The girl in the long sweater said something as she went by, but Zoe ignored her. She wasn’t stopping to feed everyone. She would have needed ten more bags for that. But she did seem to know a lot of people.

  And I’d finally figured out what was going on. It was something I should have realized a lot sooner.

  When Zoe got to the last tent, a man with a beard, a camo jacket, and a Nationals hat was waiting for her. He gave her a big hug first, and then stared at her cast for a long time, talking to her. It was like he didn’t even notice that big bag of food she’d brought.

  I couldn’t hear anything they were saying, but I knew exactly what I was seeing now.

  I’d just found out where Zoe’s dad lived.

  IT WAS LIKE this did and didn’t make sense at the same time. Zoe’s mom was basically famous. The two of them lived in a nice house on C Street.

  And her dad was experiencing homelessness?

  Yeah. That’s exactly what was going on.

  Was she protecting him? Was he protecting her? And, same question as before—did any of this have anything to do with the other secrets Zoe was sitting on?

  I still had no freaking clue.

  Zoe didn’t stay long, either. They sat on a couple of lawn chairs for a while, and he ate one of the sandwiches she’d brought him.

  When he was done eating, they stood up again, and she hugged him for a long time. He kissed the top of her head, and waved good-bye as she walked away.

  I pulled back, all the way behind the column where I’d been hiding. Then I gave it a slow ten count to let Zoe get ahead of me. After that, I was just about to move out, when I heard someone yell Zoe’s name.

  “Yo, Zoe! Wait up!”

  I looked out again. It was the girl in the long sweater. Zoe wasn’t slowing down for her though, any more than she did before. She just kept going around the corner onto First Street, while the other girl ran to catch up.

  Normally, I would have stayed put for another ten count, at least, to keep myself off Zoe’s radar. Except I’d just seen something that changed everything. It was what that other girl had on her feet. Heavy black boots, military style.

  I couldn’t swear they were the same black boots I’d seen on whoever had been standing next to Zoe after she got shot that day. Maybe they were and maybe they weren’t. But right now, maybe was plenty enough to get me moving, quick.

  I held up my hand to stop a car on its way through the tunnel. The guy blared his horn, but that was the least of my worries. I sprinted across the street, onto the sidewalk, and around the corner.

  “Zoe!” I yelled, louder than I had to.

  They’d already stopped. It looked like this girl was standing in the way, trying to keep Zoe from leaving. As I came up on them, she looked at me like I was nuts.

  “Ali? What are you doing here?” Zoe asked.

  “Kind of a long story,” I said. “You okay?”

  “Who’s this?” the other girl said, but I ignored her.

  “I’m walking home,” I told Zoe. “You want to walk with me?”

  I saw a lot of different things in Zoe’s eyes then. Like confusion. And anger. But also maybe some relief.

  “We’re having a private conversation here, brother,” the girl said. “Why don’t you take your little security detail and wait over there?”

  I wasn’t going anywhere, though. Not without Zoe. This girl looked maybe seventeen. And I wasn’t sure why she had her hand in her pocket, but I also wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Mostly, I just wanted out of there.

  Zoe ignored her, too.

  “Yeah, I’m coming,” she said. “Later, Mikayla.”

  The tall girl, Mikayla, stepped up on me as I walked by. I just kept moving with my chin up and my heart pounding until Zoe and I were out of there. We walked up First Street together and didn’t look back.

  I was relieved for sure, but at the same time, you could just feel the silence coming off of Zoe. I knew I wasn’t off the hot seat yet.

  Because I still had a lot of explaining to do.

  WE GOT ABOUT a block away from Mikayla before Zoe stopped and got right up in my face.

  “What are you doing here, Ali?” she asked. I felt like some cockroach she’d just turned on the light and found where he wasn’t supposed to be.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I was just…”

  “Just what?” she asked. It was hard to get stared at like that and think straight at the same time. My brain felt like one big glitch.

  “Were you seriously following me?” Zoe asked.

  “Yeah,” I kind of mumbled out. “I was worried about you.”

  “You don’t need to worry about me,” she said. “I like you, Ali, but—”

  “Actually, yeah, I do need to worry,” I said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t play me, Zoe,” I said.

  It was like something had just turned a corner in my mind. I wasn’t going to tell her not to be mad. But at the same time, I was a little mad now, too.

  And I kept going. “You want to pretend like everything’s okay? Like you don’t know who did this? That’s up to you. But I know what I saw. And I know you’re not telling me the truth.”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” she said.

  She started walking again, but I went step for step with her. And I wasn’t even trying to go easy about this anymore.

  “I was right there, Zoe. I got your blood on me, and I won’t ever forget that. I’m not saying you owe me anything. And I know you didn’t ask for my help. But you can’t stop me from caring about what happens to you. Not after all that.”

  I couldn’t tell which way I was pushing my luck. I was still nervous Zoe would tell me to leave her alone, or start screaming at me. She even opened her mouth to say something, but then she stopped.

  And then started again.

  “I don’t mean to yell at you,” she said. “But Ali, you can’t go around following people like this.”

  Well, maybe, I thought. Detectives do it all the time, for really good reasons.

  “But also,” Zoe went on. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” I asked.

  “You know,” she said. “For caring.”

  Then she did the most surprising thing of all. She leaned over and kissed me, right there on the sidewalk. And on the lips, too.

  It would have been nicer if I’d seen it coming. The whole thing was like a blink, and over before I even knew it was happening.

  But still, it was really nice. Like, one of the best things that’s ever happened to me nice.

  Zoe hooked her thumb up the block. “You want to keep moving?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, and we walked on from there.

  I had so many different things running around my head now, I didn’t know what to say next. On the one hand, I didn’t want to spoil what had just happened. But on the other hand, this was too important to let ride. Time’s never on your side in an investigation.

  And besides, keeping my mouth shut has never been one of my best skills.

  “So listen,” I said. “I don’t want to make you mad all over again, but you should really know—I told my Dad what I saw in the park that day. Detective Matheson knows about it, too.”

  “Yeah,” Zoe said. “I know.”

  “You do?” I asked. Man, this girl was full of surprises.

  “They’ve been riding me about it,” she said. “It’s okay, though. I understand.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I know you hate the police—”

  “Not because of all this,” she said. “The thing I hate is how the cops never help the people who need it most. Especially Black folks. Every time you actually need some help, where are they? Nowhere, that’s where. And then they turn around and go out of their way to make life even harder for people who don’t deserve it. That’s even worse.”

  I looked back toward the tent camp we’d left behind. “You mean people like…”

  “Like my dad, yeah,” she said. Then she pointed at a sign on the side of the street. “See that? That’s exactly what I’m talking about right now.”

  It was a real metal sign, put up by the city. And now that I noticed, there were a lot of them up and down that block of First Street.

  NOTICE

  The District of Columbia government will conduct

  a general cleanup of this area on or after—

  Below that part, it showed a handwritten date and time for about a week away. There was a lot of fine print, too, but I didn’t read it all. I’d seen enough to understand.

  “They do this all the time,” Zoe said. “Cops come through those camps and take away everything. People’s tents. Their property. Their carts. They say you can come claim it at some garage, but most of the time they just throw it away. I mean, seriously, who does that to a person experiencing homelessness?”

  “What will your dad do when they come?” I asked.

  “Same as always. Find somewhere else to be, and then hopefully come back when he can.”

  It was like every answer just made room for more questions.

  “How long as he been living… you know. Out here?” I asked.

  “He doesn’t want any help,” Zoe said, like she’d seen right through to what I was really asking. “He’s stubborn. Proud, too. He works at one of the soup kitchens, but it’s not nearly enough.”

  “He has a job?”

  “You’d be surprised,” she said. “A lot of people in that camp have jobs. But do you know how expensive apartments are in DC? Minimum wage doesn’t cut it.”

  “I guess,” I said. It wasn’t something I’d thought about much.

  “Daddy says he’d rather live out here than get a handout from anyone, including my mom. He’s kind of pigheaded, to keep it one hundred. But he’s a good dad, I swear.”

  “That’s really cold, what the city’s doing,” I said. “Is there any way I can help?”

  Zoe shrugged. “You want to help? Talk to your father. Get him to do something about it.”

  “I will,” I said. I didn’t think there was much Dad could do, but I’d at least try.

  And for whatever else it was worth, I’d just figured out what I wanted to write about for my big social studies report, too.

  CEDRIC MET ME about a block from my house that Saturday morning and we walked over to Nubuilt Garage on E Street in Southwest.

  Cedric said he’d take the lead on this one, and I let him. Maybe I knew more about this stuff, but his swag was at like three hundred compared to mine, in pretty much every way.

  The idea was to scope out the garage first and see if we could tell whether Orlando was there. So when we hit that block of E Street, we hung back and just surveilled the place for a minute.

  The garage was a little two-bay place with a Castrol sign hanging above the entrance. As far as I could tell, there were three people working that morning: a White guy in the first bay, fixing a car up on a lift, a Black lady in the office next to that, and an old Black man with a crown of gray hair, hanging out in the office, too.

  Ruby had told us what Orlando looked like, and he definitely wasn’t one of those three.

  “Let’s do this,” Cedric said, and led the way over to that open garage door.

  “Excuse me,” Cedric tried, but the mechanic cut him off without even turning around.

  “Nobody allowed in the bays, fellas,” he said. “Talk to Monica.”

  He ticked his head to the side, where the lady was working at her computer, and the old guy was leaning against the counter, talking to her. So we stepped into the office and started again.

  “Morning,” Cedric said. “I was wondering if you could help me out?”

  “Well, you don’t look old enough to drive, sweetheart,” the lady said. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m twenty-two,” Cedric said.

  “No, you’re not,” the old guy said.

  “Nah, I’m not,” Cedric said. This was how he rolled. He always got people joking and relaxed before he tried to get anything out of them. In his own way, Cedric had some serious investigative skills. I wasn’t even nervous.

  “Actually, I’m looking for my cousin Orlando,” Cedric told them.

  “Why? He owe you some money?” the old guy asked. He and the lady cracked up at that, like Orlando was another whole kind of joke. Which maybe he was.

  “I wish,” Cedric said, playing along. “Nah, we cool, I just hadn’t seen him in a minute. He works weekends, right?”

  “Not usually,” the lady said.

  The old guy squinted at a clipboard on the wall, next to a calendar with a picture of a sexy lady on it. “Yeah, he’s here Monday to Thursday,” the guy said.

  “So does that mean he definitely wasn’t here last Saturday, either?” Cedric asked. “He told me this is when I could find him.” It was a little genius move, just so we could make sure. Cedric was playing this perfectly.

  “You either heard wrong, or Orlando don’t want to see you,” the man said, and they laughed again, like this was the funniest place to work in Washington. It wasn’t what I was expecting, at all.

  “Sorry, hon,” the lady said. Then she held up a plate from her desk. “You boys want a snickerdoodle instead? Made them myself.”

  “No, thank you, ma’am,” I said, but Cedric took one and stuck the whole thing in his mouth.

  “Dang, these are awesome,” he said, chowing down. And of course, now I wished I’d taken one, too. But we weren’t there for cookies.

  “Who should I tell Orlando was looking for him?” the lady asked, ducking her chin to see over the top of her glasses.

  “Just tell him Loki says hi,” Cedric said. “Come on, Cassius, let’s get out of these nice people’s way.”

  He even took two more cookies when they weren’t looking, and gave me one after we’d hit the street. I know everyone says I’m the detective, but I wish I had half of Cedric’s moves.

  “So, what now?” he asked, once we were out of earshot.

  “Well, it doesn’t necessarily mean Orlando was at Anacostia Park last week,” I said. “But it’s a step in the right direction.”

  “Okay. And?” Cedric asked. It was like he knew his part was over and now he was waiting for me to kick in with whatever I brought to the table.