But they won’t do what’s necessary. They won’t dig as deep as they need to until they find her.

“You gave me your number so I could contact you when I had something important. This is something important.”

Lorraine smiles sadly and says, “No, Jess. The Polaroid was important. And I’m so grateful for that. But this isn’t. Do you realize how many people call us every day, saying they know something? We have a lot of officers focused on your case, and we’ll add it to the list of tips. But you shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

I don’t know why I thought the police would help when they didn’t before. They couldn’t catch him ten years ago, and they haven’t caught him since, even with fourteen dead bodies and fourteen angry families as motivation. They’re useless, even the ones who pretend they care.

“Take me home,” I say.

Lorraine looks at me for a moment, then drives back in silence.

As I’m getting out, she says, “I know how much you want to catch him,” but I ignore her, because she has no idea.

If she really knew, she would listen. She wouldn’t be brushing me off with the kind of things you tell people who are wasting police time.

I always knew it would be hard to catch him, but I genuinely believed she would see the truth in my eyes the way I heard the fear in Clara’s voice. Maybe all she sees, all anyone will see, is desperation.

They don’t think I’m solving the crime. They see what happens when grief turns you into a mess. When all you have left is pointing fingers at strangers.

If I’m going to finish this, I’ll have to do it without them.

Chapter 110

On Saturday, it’s Emily’s turn to host a sleepover, but when we arrive, she’s not there, so Hanna and I sit awkwardly in the living room while her mom makes nervous small talk.

Usually, Emily makes excuses for us to have it somewhere else. But this week, she was excited, because her dad was taking her out, and he didn’t flake at the last minute.

When they arrive, she hugs us and says, “We had the best day.”

If you look closely at her, you can see the sadness just below the surface, the way she glances nervously at her father and the wobble in her smile.

It probably wasn’t the best day. But it was a day with her dad, and she doesn’t get many of those.

“I should go,” he says, glancing at me, then away.

“Stay for a while,” Emily replies. “We’re having Chinese.”

Her dad gives me another look, then shakes his head and says, “Maybe next time.”

I’m used to people staring, but his look unnerves me.

“Same time next week?” Emily asks.