“Yeah, meat is so good. I do not understand how someone can be a vegetarian.” She blinks, and when she does she sees images from yesterday’s Google search behind her eyes. The thought of meat suddenly flips her stomach. In her head she knows they’re not the same thing, but her heart and gut don’t care right now. Suddenly she gets vegetarianism. “Anyway, uh, I’m sure the cookies and crackers are good, too. So where do we start?”

“We gotta figure out where Bodie and Bird are, first.”

“Sounds right.”

“What are you going to do? When we find out who did this?”

Atlanta shrugs. “Jenny didn’t say what to do. Right now I just want to find ’em. I didn’t see them in the phone book at home. The Cooch said they were homeschooled, so it’s not like they’re in school records or anything. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen ’em.”

“So we’re up the creek.”

“Well, hold on, now, because here’s our resident expert.” Coming in through the front door is Chomp-Chomp, messy hair in his face, big teeth and tiny gums preceding him like he’s some kind of mouthy horse. He sits down—flops down, really—and offers an awkward wave.

“Hey,” he says.

Shane tightens. His head shrinks into his shoulders like a softball pressed into some mud.

She tells him, “It’s all right. This is more Ch . . . Steven’s area of expertise.”

“You can call me Chomp-Chomp,” he says. “Or Chompers. It’s okay.”

Atlanta kinda wants to, but it seems like being polite is the way to go. “Nah, we can call you Steven. Or Steve. Or Stevie?”

“Whatever you like.”

That’s not how a name works, she thinks, but Shane’s still bristling, and they’ve got other things to worry about.

“Chris was our third,” Shane says, his voice small and stiff.

She leans in, whispers to Shane as if Steven isn’t sitting there, “He’s not a replacement, dum-dum, he’s just . . . he’s just here to help, and I need help, so can we continue? Please?”

“Fine. You may continue.”

“Good.” Back to Chompers, then. “Steven. You know a pair of brothers named Haycock? Bodie and Bird. They were—or are—victims of the Cooch’s cooch, so she says.”

He nods. “Yeah. Bodie’s the older one, but not even by a year. They live up on Grainger Hill past the trailer parks. But I called Adam Rains—he’s the drummer for Hyperdoor—and asked, and he said they’re not around this summer. Adam said they’re staying with their . . . uncle or something up on his farm in Little Ash.”