“She’s missing,” I breathe out in a weak, shaky voice.

“What?” He’s more alert now. I can practically hear his frown.

“She never came home last night.”

Dylan remains silent, breathing down the line.

“She never came home, Dylan,” I repeat, my voice breaking.

“Shit,” he whispers, and there’s rustling in the background. “I’ll make some phone calls to see if anyone saw anything last night.”

“I’ll be over in a bit. Let’s look for her together.”

He hangs up, and I drop down on my bed. Resting my elbows on my thighs, I bury my face in my hands. What the fuck am I going to do? What can I do?

I lift my head and look to my left. Mr. Reid has left his bedroom. How do I tell him that she didn’t go back with Dylan?

My heart aches as I make my way back to his house. I enter and find him in the kitchen, talking to someone on the phone.

When he looks up and spots me, he holds his finger up. “I’ll have to phone you back, okay? Willow is here.”

He hangs up, watching me expectantly as if I’m the only one who can put him out of his misery. My heart splinters at the hopeful look in his eyes. I’m about to crush it.

I open my mouth, but no words come out. Nothing at all.

“I’m sorry,” I eventually croak.

Mr. Reid looks at me uncomprehendingly for such a long moment that my heart starts to pound against my ribcage. Each individual heartbeat smashes against its confines. It roars in my ear, eating up the silence in the room.

“She wasn’t at Dylan’s.”

“She wasn’t at Dylan’s,” he repeats quietly to himself, chewing on his thumbnail. His brain is desperately trying to piece it all together. “Who took her home?”

“She walked home alone.”

His dark eyes clash with mine and his raw voice crackles with pain. “You let her walk home alone?”

“No,” I reply, confused as to why he would say such a thing. “She told me she would catch a lift with Amanda or Jenny.”

“You let her walk home alone!” he repeats, louder this time while walking closer and forcing me back a step.

“She promised me she would be okay.”

“SHE ISN’T FUCKING OKAY!” he roars, and I whimper with fear when he corners me against the wall. “Where the fuck is my daughter, Willow?! You’re her best friend. I trusted you to keep her safe.”

“I-I tried to stay. She didn’t want me to.”

He slaps the wall, making my heart jump to my throat. “She’s missing! All because you decided to leave her side.”

“I’m sorry.” My voice is weak and pitiful.

His harsh breaths fan my face while he glares at me as if it’s a struggle to rein in his anger, his pain. He’s been here before, five years ago when his wife went missing. Now he’s here again, experiencing the same thing, battling the same fear. It’s palpable in the air, coaxing my own out to dance with his.