“I can see that,” Maggie said. This was really happening. A good night’s sleep hadn’t made him think more clearly. Cooler heads hadn’t prevailed. Maggie should call her mom. She was the best at talking her father down.

“Dad, you’re not serious about Mexico? I don’t think—”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“It’s just kind of, I don’t know, sudden.”

“It’s your senior year, you’re leaving us soon, and you deserve a trip. Besides, my doctor said a vacation would be good for me. While we’re there, we’ll check things out from the call.”

He said it so casually that it all almost started to make sense. But Maggie knew better.

“I think you need to consider that it was a prank. I mean, putting aside that, like, Charlotte is, um, dead, why would her cell phone have the name of the nightclub? It’s weird, and it’s super easy to spoof a caller ID.”

“Well, that’s why I have you, sweetie.”

Maggie furrowed her brow.

“You’re gonna trace the call, see if it really came from the club.”

Maggie let out a cough of a laugh. “I am, am I? And how will I be doing that?”

Her father clutched the handle of one of the suitcases.

“You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

With that, he grabbed the other suitcase and directed his chin to the third that had skittered down the hall to the landing of the stairwell.

“Pack beach clothes,” he said. “And I’ll need your help packing stuff for Mom.” His eyes flared again and he disappeared into his bedroom.

Maggie lugged the suitcase to her room, then plopped down on the bed. She was definitely calling Mom. At the same time, she liked the idea of sitting on a beach in Mexico. Away from her computer and her phone and her problems. Time to clear her head. And if she was honest, she liked the confidence her father had in her. He really believed she could track an anonymous call made from Mexico. Not a doubt in his mind. Still, she needed to get Mom involved. She tapped out a text:

You might want to call Dad and ask him about Mexico.…

She considered telling her mom to call her, that they needed to talk about something important, but she tossed her phone on the bed. She reached for the laptop on the nightstand. She didn’t want to look, but she needed to. She pulled up the Danny Pine site. More cruel comments. She read a few of them, then slammed the laptop shut. She felt the tears coming again.