I’m still sitting there when Nate comes back and hands me my phone. I text Grace and CeCe. “Are you home and okay?”

The detective returns.

“I don’t understand,” I whisper. “He knows me. Why did he . . . do this? How can he think? . . . I don’t understand how this happened. I should’ve seen something, a sign or whatever. I could’ve stopped him. If I’d seen it, I could’ve saved Maddy. . . .”

Detective Grant shakes her head. “Don’t. You are not responsible for what he did. He is.”

CeCe’s text reply comes in: “Yes. What happened?”

“Can I tell CeCe?” I ask the detective.

She frowns. “Just tell her to stay home. Don’t let anyone from school in, even people she knows.”

I pass on the message with a note to tell all the girls and Robert too. CeCe sends back a quick reply that she’s “on it,” and I look back at the marked lack of reply from Grace. I send her another text. I call.

“Grace isn’t answering. She always answers.” I look at Nate.

“I sent a car over,” Detective Grant starts.

My mother returns and announces that Mrs. Yeung will be at their house in fifteen minutes. Mom shivers. “I’m going to be here, and my husband will be home shortly. We won’t go anywhere.”

The detective stands. “I need to take Grace’s statement about her interaction with Reid Benson yesterday, as well as speak to Miss Watkins.” She brushes her hands over her trousers like she has every other time. “I’ll be back. If you think of anything else or hear from Reid, call me.”

After she sees the detective out, my mother comes into the room and pulls me into a fierce hug. When she lets go, I see tears in her eyes. “He was in the house. I opened the door and let a killer into our house.”

“He won’t be here ever again,” Nate says. “The door is locked, and Mr. Tilling is on the way. I was here too, and I’m staying.”

My mother nods.

“Why don’t you relax there? I can get you . . . a drink or something?” Nate looks at me, and the expression on his face makes me smile briefly. He wants to help, but he doesn’t know what to do.

My mother seems to collect herself at the thought of getting a drink. She stands, straightens her shoulders, and announces, “I’ll fix a pot of tea.”

Nate nods, and we watch her go.

I text Grace again, but there’s still no answer. My mother is still in the kitchen when my father comes home. He looks in at me, sees Nate holding me while I cry, and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Nate is here,” I answer.

“If you need me—”

“I know, Daddy.”

He smiles in surprise at my words. It’s been years since I called him that, but it’s been years since I felt as close to them as I have the past couple days. He walks away to find my mother, who has been doing something or other in the kitchen that involves a lot of cupboards opening and closing.

Once I hear their muffled words in the kitchen, I turn to Nate. “I’m scared.”

“You didn’t see Grace’s death happen,” Nate reminds me.

“I did though. He put her in his trunk and took her. She was at the library, and then she was in his trunk.” I smother a sob.

“Shhh. She didn’t go to the library though. Right?”

He holds me, and I try to push past my fears. I know he’s trying to help, but until I know that Grace is safe, nothing is going to going to be okay. I need a plan. There has to be something I can do. I just have no idea what it could be.

Nate and I are still sitting in silence when my parents come into the room. I know by the look on my mother’s face that it’s bad. Gently, my father tells me, “Grace is missing.” Before I can speak, he continues, “It’s not like at Madison’s house. There was no sign of a fight, nothing broken or anything at the Yeungs’ house.”

“Madison fought back,” I say, not entirely surprised.

“She did.” My father pauses.

I realize that he’s debating hiding something. “What? Tell me.”

“Madison fought him in the foyer of the house,” he says. “They think she was alive when she left the house. She was drowned, like Amy Crowne was.”

“And Grace?”

“The police didn’t find . . . Grace isn’t at the lake. Eva, there’s no reason to think Grace isn’t going to be okay.”

I realize that in some sick way, if Reid thinks this is about me, Grace is either safer than the others or she’s in worse danger. She’s my best friend. I think back to the vision of her death. I wish that I knew more so that I could try to help her. All that I remember that could be relevant is that she was leaving the library when it happened. I think back to it, letting the memory fill my mind.

Grace opens the trunk, drops a bag in, and reaches up for the trunk to close it.

That’s when it happens. He hits the back of her head, and she opens her mouth to scream, but a hand comes over it. Grace bites down, but the person holding her doesn’t let go.

She tries dropping her weight like they tell you in street defense class, but a hand on her back shoves, and she falls into her own trunk. Her legs scrape against the car, and she feels like she can’t breathe from the force of the fall.

Blinking against the pain and trying to push herself out, Grace looks up and see someone standing there. Then the trunk closes, and it’s all dark.