I closed the gap alright, but when I reached out to snag the retreating hoodie, I tripped and staggered several feet, arms frantically windmilling, before taking a header. I felt the air explode from my lungs as I hit the ground chest-first, jaw next, and slid to a crumpled stop. I spat out the mouthful of gravel I’d inhaled like a bulldozer, then sat up and scraped the dirt off my scraped knees while I got my breath back.

I was examining my poor toes—every one of the bare piggies got stubbed on the rocks—when I saw a pair of no-name high-tops rushing toward me out of the gloom.
   “Oliver! Help! There’s a prowl—”

“Mrs. Portman! You okay?”

“Austin?” I looked up. The boy had thrown back his hoodie and stood over me, eyes bugged with concern.

Marigold Street! That’s where Detective Montgomery said the little girl found Vera’s phone. It all made sense now—Vera’s phone had been found near Austin’s house, the last place she’d been seen.

Austin held out his hand. I grabbed it and let him pull me to my feet. “That fall looked pretty bad,” he said.

I was already banged up from the car accident, and now this indignity. But I smiled and said, “I’ll live. But what are you doing here? And why did you run from me?”

“I came to drop something off, but when you came running out screaming, I freaked out. I didn’t want to get caught.”

“Get caught doing what?” Oliver’s voice boomed from behind me. My tardy white knight ambled up to us nonchalantly, cinching his robe.

“I’m fine, by the way,” I said. “Thanks for asking.”

“I came to give you this.” Austin handed me a scrap of paper. I instantly recognized it as another torn piece from Vera’s journal.

“Was that you who left me the other page on my car?”

Austin nodded meekly. “Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t bring it to you directly. I was afraid you’d turn me in, so after school I parked down the street and waited until I saw your car pass when you were going to dinner. I figured for sure no one would notice me if I slipped it under your wiper at the restaurant.”

“I guess you were right,” I said.

“How long were you sitting there watching for us?” Oliver asked. “You know that’s stalking, right? And do you even have a driver’s license?”

“I’ve got a permit. I was only waiting, like, an hour. I didn’t know how else to send it to you.”

“Have you ever heard of mail?” Oliver grumbled.

“Cut him a break, Oliver. Teens do impulsive stuff.” I lifted the page. “So why bring this one to the house now, Austin?”

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I just wanted it off my hands.”