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LEAVENWORTH, KANSAS

“I loved her.”

Poppy stares at her brother in the dim light of his childhood bedroom, amid the trophies and posters of his youth. She recognizes that she’s tired and stressed and not thinking clearly.

“What are you talking about? Why do you have her shirt?”

“Senior year, we were close… but she chose Ryan.”

“That doesn’t explain why the hell you have the shirt she was wearing the night she disappeared.”

“Because I was there that night.”

Poppy stands, shakes her head, starts pacing.

“I went to Ali’s house that night. To try to, I don’t know, give it one last shot. I got there right when she was leaving. And I don’t know why, but I followed her car.”

Poppy is having trouble processing this. So far it sounds like Dash was a creepy stalker.

Her brother’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “It was stupid. I followed her to Lovers’ Lane and I saw him.”

“Saw who?”

“The guy who took her.”

Poppy guffaws. “Really. And you’re only mentioning this now?”

“It happened so fast. Ali and Ryan went into the field to mess around. I realized that it was pointless me being there. She’d made her choice, and it was Ryan, not me. I was about to take off. But then it started raining and I saw them rush back to the car, and the guy was on them so damn quick.” He shakes his head as if the memory still pains him. “It was dark, but I saw him get inside the car and take off. So I followed.”

Poppy examines Dash. His eyes are glassy, his face flushed.

“You didn’t go help Ryan?” Poppy asks.

“I didn’t see him get yanked from the car. I thought the guy was taking them both. So I followed, thinking I could help.”

“Why didn’t you call for help?”

Then Dash says it, words that hit Poppy like a two-by-four: “I did. I called Dad.”