“Davy.” I run over and grab him from behind in a hug.
He actually laughs. “What are you doing?”
“Just—glad to see you.” I force a smile. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Um. Nothing?”
“Good. Good, I’ll…make us dinner. Let me just…”
I hurry back outside and grab the note and photo—only belatedly realizing I probably shouldn’t have touched them, in case they have fingerprints or something on them. But the person who left them probably made sure to wear gloves.
I need to take all this to the cops. To Carter. Between this and the phone—they have to take me seriously now, don’t they?
I head to my room, then make a beeline for my nightstand drawer.
But the phone’s not in there.
A surge of panic goes through me.
Fiona’s phone. It has to be here.
I push aside the junk in the drawer, bookmarks and ChapStick and old pieces of paper and pens. Then pull the drawer out and empty it onto my bed.
But there’s still nothing there.
Fiona’s phone is gone.
41
I tear my room apart.
Sheets everywhere, bed shoved aside, every box of random stuff under it upended. Closet torn through. But even as I’m doing it, I know there’s no point.
The phone is gone.
I stand in the middle of my mess of a room, panic threatening to close my throat.
That was the only thing I had. It wasn’t the most concrete proof, but those messages to “tiny dancer,” the mention of Patrice—it was something, at least.
And now I have nothing.
I run to the outside door to my bedroom. It’s bolted from the inside, the way I keep it. The front door to the house was locked when I got in. I run to the back door. Locked. Check every window on the ground floor. All locked.
Which means no one broke in here.
The person who took the phone had a key.
“Addie?”
I jump, then turn to see my brother.
“Was anyone here?” I blurt out.
He looks at me warily. “What’s wrong?”
“The phone. I mean—my phone. The one I used to text Seth. Have you seen it?”
Davy shakes his head, looking mystified.
“Was anyone here?” I repeat.
“Just Marion, but then she had to leave for dinner.”
Marion. Again.
Would she have stolen the phone? On the instructions of her uncle? Her father?
Or Seth himself?
“Did she come inside?” I ask.
His eyebrows go up. “Yeah, for a little, but—why would Marion steal your phone?”
I’m not about to go into it with Davy. “I— You’re right. I probably just…misplaced it…”
I’ve turned away from my brother, and my heart is sinking like a stone.
Maybe Marion took it. Or maybe someone else did, before my brother got home. But if the house was locked—
