“Unlock the phone and hand it over.”

“What? No way.”

Her cryptic words—I know what she did—were gaining mass in my mind, elbowing everything out of their way. “Failure to comply with a criminal investigation is obstruction of justice,” I said, because I was suddenly sure her device was the key to figuring this family out. “Remove it from your pocket and unlock it. Now.”

For a few seconds she didn’t budge. Then she lifted her T-shirt high enough for me to see her flat, white stomach and slid the phone from between her waistband and the sharp bone of her hip.

I stuck out my good hand and said, “Give it to me.” I had no right to seize her phone as evidence, no proof it contained anything that was pertinent to the investigation. All I had was a feeling and a profound yearning to teach the kid a lesson. At the time, it felt like enough.

Jade pressed her thumb against the home button to unlock it, but her hands were too sweaty. I watched her type in her passcode. Even then, the phone stayed in her grip.

You know that game kids play where they pass a hand over their face and change their expression—happy, sad, angry—like the hand controls their mood? That was Jade, except her mood swings were real. “Fuck you,” she said as she wagged the unlocked phone in my face.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s text messages or goddamn emojis, you’re withholding critical evidence related to Jasper’s disappearance. That’s a misdemeanor, Jade, punishable by up to a year in jail.” I was improvising. I was desperate. “I’m not kidding about this, not even a little.”

Jade went inert. Then, just as quickly, her expression changed again. I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t. “God, relax. Here, it’s yours,” she said—and it was. The palm of my left hand was open, waiting. But when Jade finally thrust the phone at me, she went for my right. The girl aimed straight for the burn. Smacked the device against my boiled hand with so much force that I cried out in pain.

“You little . . .” I gasped. The pain was dazzling.

Another flawless smile. “You asked for it.”

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Bebe stood in the kitchen doorway, her jaunty hairstyle at odds with her downturned mouth. “Jade? I thought you were using the bathroom. What are you doing with her?”

“You were all asked to stay with Wellington,” I said, trying to pull myself together. “But since you’re here, you should know Jade intentionally evaded his request and concealed a device that could be integral to our investigation.” You want to play, Jade? Let’s play.

“Jade’s a fourteen-year-old child,” Bebe said. “You can’t take anything she says seriously.”

“It was a flat-out lie. Deliberate disobedience.”

“Jasper’s missing. Jade’s very upset.”

“She has my phone, Bebe,” Jade said suddenly. “Make her give it back.”

“As I said,” I repeated, “I have reason to believe this device—”