In the car on the way to the school, my left toe taps mindlessly against the floorboard of the automobile Jack loaned us. Neither Ryan nor I turn on the radio. Somber emotions cloud the horizon like a rolling, dense fog.

Sophia’s been missing for two days, and it’s as if she vanished. We have no good theories. Even if she got fed up with her father, I can’t imagine her staying away this long. The Sophia I knew would want to let him know she was okay. At Cassandra’s funeral, they may have been technically strangers, but there was still love between the two of them. He’s her father. She has to love him.

Look beyond the obvious.

Outside the car, the clear blue sky and palm trees conflict with the swirl of confusion and worry in my head. It’s surreal. The manicured lawns feel like utopia, and yet a fifteen-year-old girl is missing. This afternoon we will cross the forty-eight-hour threshold.

“If you would like to turn the radio on, please do,” Ryan says.

I don’t want to mess with the radio. What I want is a plan. When Jack asked me to help, I truly believed it had to be a misunderstanding, a teenage act of defiance, and we’d find her. And I said I would help. Sure, I want to be a criminal profiler. But at this stage, there is no criminal to profile. Unless we determine she has been abducted. And if that’s the case, where would I start?

A stucco sign with a tiled roof and golden letters spelling Palisades Day School comes into view. The road curves past the entrance sign, and small directional plaques lead us to the admissions building where Jack instructed us to go.

“What do you think is the best way to tackle this? We have about fifty kids to interview.”

“Unless one of them can’t look us in the eye or seems unusually emotional, I expect it’s going to go pretty quickly. If the teachers let us, you can video our interviews. The Arrow team can go through and compare with the police interviews. See if there’s any variance. But I’m not hopeful.”

“That’s your opinion from the groups?” Arrow has been monitoring the Searching for Sophia group chat and the private Facebook group a classmate created.

“Yes.” Ryan taps his index finger against the steering wheel. The beat of his finger oddly matches the tap of my toe.

“You think this is a waste of time?”

He side-eyes me. His sunglasses hide his irises, but the tilt of his head conveys condescension. “Waste? No. It’s a necessary step. Local police have already met with her close friends and teachers. But, given we have no clues, it’s worth backtracking. If one of these kids knows anything, maybe one of them will come forward.”

It is possible. If a student knows something, it’s conceivable one day in, it didn’t seem real. Maybe with two days missing, concern will override any fear.