“Marah?” she said after a moment. “I know you’re upset, but we need to talk about this.”

She waited, knocked again, and opened the door.

In the jumble of clothes and books and movies, it took Kate a moment to process what she was seeing.

An empty room.

With an open window.

Just to be sure, she checked everywhere—in the closet, under the bed, behind the chair. She checked the bathroom, too, and the boys’ room and even her own. By the time she’d searched the entire upstairs, her heart was pounding so fast she felt light-headed. At the top of the stairs, she held onto the banister for support. “She’s gone,” she said, hearing the crack in her voice.

Johnny looked up. “Huh?”

“She’s gone. I think she climbed out her window and went down the trellis.”

He was on his feet in a second. “Son of a bitch.”

He ran outside. Kate followed.

They stood beneath her bedroom window, seeing where her weight had broken the white wooden trellis and ripped through the ivy. “Son of a bitch,” Johnny said again. “We need to start calling everyone she knows.”

Even on a cold night like this, Tully loved being on the deck of her condo. It was a big, stone-tiled space that had been designed to replicate an Italian villa’s terrace. Big, leafy trees grew from terra-cotta planters, their branches strung with tiny white lights.

She went to the railing and stared out. From here, she could hear the bump and grind of the city far below and smell the salty air of the Sound. In the distance, beyond the expanse of gray water, she could see the forested outline of Bainbridge Island.

What were the Ryans doing tonight? she wondered. Were they gathered around that big old-fashioned trestle table of theirs, playing board games? Or maybe Marah and Kate were curled up on the couch together, talking about boys. Or maybe she and Johnny had stolen a moment together to kiss—

The phone rang in her apartment. It was just as well. Thinking about Kate’s family only made Tully feel more lonely.

She went through the open pocket doors and closed them behind her, then answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Tully?” It was Johnny. His voice was tight, unfamiliar.

She was immediately worried. “What is it?”

“Marah ran away. We don’t know when exactly, probably about an hour and fifteen minutes ago. Have you heard from her?”

“No. I haven’t. Why did she run away?” Before Johnny could answer, Tully’s doorman buzzed her. “Just a second, Johnny. Hold on.” She ran to the intercom, pressed it. “What is it, Edmond?”

“There’s a Marah Ryan here to see you.”

“Send her up.” Tully released the button. “She’s here, Johnny.”

“Thank God,” he said. “She’s there, honey. She’s fine. We’ll be right over, Tully. Don’t let her leave.”