Wearing jeans and sneakers, Nola stepped out of the car and sloshed through mud, clutching two supermarket bags. Beside her, Gabby carried a pile of folded blankets. Nola’s heart pounded. This could be the day. In just a few minutes she would finally see Jenna. The door to what had once been a farmhouse hung on a single hinge, squeaking in the wind that swept across the open fields. The window frames were gone. Some openings were blocked with cardboard.

“Iowa sure is flat,” Gabby said, scanning the horizon.

Nola peeked inside. The interior walls were evidenced only by an occasional two-by-four. A dozen youngsters huddled on mattresses in the back of the hollowed-out space, some smoking. At the sight of her, someone asked, “What d’you want?”

“We’ve brought food and blankets,” she called back. “May we come in?”

There was a gruff “Um-hum.” Nola exchanged a glance with Gabby and stepped in. There was no table to lay anything down on. On the one lopsided chair was an empty pizza box filled with crushed beer cans. A puddle on the floor matched the gaping hole in the ceiling.

“You must be cold,” Nola said, and put her bags down. “Here are some blankets.”

A boy with a fuzz of a mustache reached to accept a blanket.

“Can we talk?” Nola directed her question to the group.

“About what?” asked a girl with vacant eyes. One of her front teeth was broken.

Nola handed her a hamburger. “Oh, about things. Music, maybe?”

The wind got stronger, blowing through the house. Nola zipped up her jacket. The youngsters wrapped themselves in the blankets. After a while, Gabby produced a photograph. “We’re looking for my friend’s sister. Jenna. Have you seen her?”

“Sure.” Her mouth still full, the girl kept chomping on the hamburger. “She went off with some guy with a car. He said he was going to New Orleans.”

“She’s right there,” said the boy with the lip fuzz. “This is the one you mean.” He pointed behind him to a girl who was sleeping, curled up against the wall.

The strands of long hair were matted, but there was no mistaking its honey color. Nola's heart leaped. The detective had been right! Jenna was here!

Nola crouched down and touched the thin shoulder. “Jenna?” she asked.

When the figure didn’t respond, Nola bent closer, sensing Gabby leaning forward behind her. “Jenna?” She lifted the hair off the side of the face.

The girl turned, her eyes still closed. It wasn’t Jenna.

“She’s stoned,” someone said, and Nola forced herself to stand back up, never taking her eyes off the girl, willing her to be Jenna.

Gabby put her arm around Nola’s shoulders.