I didn’t wait for her to ask what but started running toward the chain-link fence. The fastest way back was down the hill. I couldn’t even find the path; I just fell and crashed through the bramble thicket. I could feel thorns scratching my legs and face, catching my hair and pulling it out. I stumbled, and burrs stuck to my cutoffs and hair and hands. I could hear Mrs. Hunter calling me from the top of the hill. I was shouting Ellen’s name. I had started crying. When I came through the thicket into the Sun Bowl, it was almost empty. Only handfuls of people were left, mostly teenagers. I yelled Ellen’s name over and over. The license plate number echoed in my head, 3F5-727.

Out on the field I could see two lawn chairs—Sage and Tony. I started running. “Sage!” I called her over and over. They both stood up as I came hurtling toward them. “Ellen. I can’t find her. The Barbie Man’s here. His Camaro’s by the trail. I can’t find her. Help me.”

“Libby. Calm down. Maybe she went home.”

“No, the bike’s by the seesaw.”

“She’s probably up at the swim club and is on her way.”

“Meredith said Ellen went to find me at the start of the fireworks. She must have walked past him on the way down from the swim club.”

“Are you sure he’s here? How do you know it’s his car? Did you see him?”

“Sage. It’s his car. Believe me.”

“Come on,” said Sage. “We’ll look together.” The three of us started across the field toward the playground. All the bikes that had been lined up were gone, and just Ellen’s bike was left, lying on its side, the streamers covered in dirt. Sage stopped and looked at it. “Tony, who lives the closest?”

“Bouchers or Millers,” he said. “The Millers are closer to the road.”

“Go to the Millers’ now and get them to call the police.”

“What?”

“I’m not kidding.” Sage had on her take-charge voice. “It’s serious. Tell them a child is missing and that a man who attacked her before is here.”

“Whoa. What the fuck?”

“I’m not kidding,” she said again. “Go. Run.” Tony took off, and Sage started calling for Ellen. She stopped people, saying, “We need your help—a girl is missing.” She spoke like a concerned adult. “A child is missing. Her name is Ellen. Please help us.” More and more people started calling her.

We came out onto the street, and I yelled for Ellen. I could hear other people talking—“A little girl is missing”—and I knew they thought she was three or something.