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“I’ll go to the lake alone, then,” I say. “Talk to him myself.”

She looks taken aback at this, which makes me think I read her right, but after a moment’s hesitation, she nods. “Just…be careful. Okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’m serious, Nic. If it was Brad who threatened Lauren, we don’t know what else he’s capable of.”

“I’ll be careful,” I say. “Promise.”

“All right, well, I have a lot to do tomorrow, so I should probably get some sleep. How’d you get here? Do you need a ride home?”

“I biked, but I can just—”

“No,” she says with a wry smile. “You can’t just. I’ll give you a ride. But first, you need to put a bandage on that leg. I don’t want you gushing blood all over my truck.”

I live closer to Jenna’s place than my dad does, and there’s hardly any traffic now, so the drive goes fast. Before I know it, we’re pulling up to my building. I’m about to open the door and hop out when I turn to face Jenna.

“Hey,” I say. “Will you be honest? Did something else happen this week? Did someone try to scare you?”

“Nic—”

“Because,” I continue over her, “you can tell me. I get that you’re used to taking care of people. You did it with Jules, you’re doing it with your mom, and Jesus, did you see yourself tonight with my leg and the hydrogen peroxide? Sometimes you can have real big-sister energy.” I grin and she returns it, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “But if you’re trying to protect me,” I say, “don’t.”

“Nic, my mom has cancer and she’s not doing well right now. We may not have the best relationship, but I’m all she’s got. I’m not just gonna leave her to fend for herself when she can hardly get out of bed.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Jenna sighs. “No one threatened me. Okay? I swear.”

I stare at her for a long moment. Then, I nod and tell her I’m sorry about her mom, to call if she needs anything. But as I slide out of the truck and walk through the dark night, I remember how afraid she looked when she answered the door earlier, and my suspicion solidifies: Despite all her denials, I think someone tried to scare her. And just like it did with Lauren, whatever the threat was, it worked.

Chapter Twenty-six

I wake the next morning alert and buzzing. Brad, I think. After all my stalling, and prevaricating, and clinging to the hope that he is blameless in Kasey’s disappearance, we’re finally going to talk to Brad.

I fling back the covers, but my feet pause just as they touch the old beige carpet of my bedroom floor.We’renot going to talk to Brad. I am. Alone. On top of the dread this sends prickling up my spine, there’s also the problem of how I’m actually going to get to the lake an hour away. I’d been so discouraged by Jenna’s news last night, I’d completely forgotten she was supposed to be my ride.

In my oversized T-shirt and underwear, I pad into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, pour myself a cup, then open my maps app. According to its directions, one way on a bike would take five hours, and it doesn’t look like I can get that far using public transit. After yesterday, my dad’s not going to drive me, and I can’t think of a single other person I’d feel comfortable asking. I switch over to my Uber app, but the estimated price for a two-hour round trip actually takes my breath away. I can’t justify it.

I think of my car, which has been sitting untouched in my apartment’s designated parking space since my dad drove it home fromthe impound lot almost five months ago. But with my license suspended, driving it would be breaking the law, and I’m in enough legal trouble as it is.

Unable to stand still any longer, I swallow a gulp of coffee and head to my closet to throw on some clothes. I move through my apartment packing my backpack, because no matter how I get there, I’ll have to bring my wallet and phone. More important, I’m going to need the receipt I found in Kasey’s jean jacket with the handwritten address on the back.

My car keys sit in a jewelry bowl on top of my dresser, eyeing me as I sit on the floor to tie my shoes. I shouldn’t drive. I know I shouldn’t. But then I think of Brad, the man who potentially took my sister and Jenna’s too, enjoying a peaceful family vacation, and I find myself walking to the dresser. Without quite telling my hand to do it, I grab the keys.

—

I’m a swarm of nerves as I drive to the lake, going five under and shooting anxious glances into my rearview the entire way. The route is straight and monotonous. Cornfields laced with strips of woods pass by my window in a blur of gold and green. The sky is a cloudless, endless blue. To me, it all feels unnervingly vast. Every mile of land I pass represents a thousand places that could have swallowed Kasey and hidden her from sight.

When I turn onto the road that leads to the little lake town, flashes of the past flicker in my mind like bits of a movie on a broken projector. Sun glinting silver on the water. A deck of playing cards on a soda-sticky table. Fresh fish dinners. Noisy games of Yahtzee. The memories shine with the feeling of rightness, of belonging. Me, Kasey, our mom and dad, the two Andrews boys, and their parents. But as I get closer and closer to Brad and Sandy’s house, the scenes turn gray and lifeless. One of our little group is now dead. One may have been her killer.

The house is smaller than I remember, a one-story with blue wooden siding, the lake shimmering behind it. I assumed the hour-long drive would dull my nerves about confronting Brad and tempermy anger at him, but instead, it compounded them into a white-hot fury. By the time I pull up out front, my hands are shaking. I grab the receipt with the address on the back from my bag then fling open my car door.

I’m walking up the front path to the house when I hear voices from behind it. There’s a child’s shriek of laughter followed by a peal of giggles. Beneath is the hum of adults talking. I glance toward the front door, but the house looks dark and still, so I follow the sound around the side and stumble headfirst into the Andrews family reunion.

The backyard crawls with people. Kids sprint in every direction, shooting giddy, panicked looks over their shoulders as they run from a little boy with no front teeth who’s clearly “it.” Adults stand in clusters, red Solo cups and cans of beer in their hands. Two picnic tables form a cornucopia of food: open bags of chips, jars of pickles and condiments, Tupperware bowls full of macaroni and cheese and fruit salad. The hinges of a cooler squeak loudly as a woman opens it to dig around inside.

As I gaze around at all the people, my conviction wanes. No one seems to have noticed me yet. Maybe I should just go back to my car and wait until I can catch Brad on his own. But as I start to head back around the side of the house, I hear my name. I turn to see Sandy walking toward me, and my throat constricts with nerves. She’s the last person I want to do this in front of.