“Oh, we can do a lot of things,” Hunter says with a drop of playfulness in his tone.

Zay elbows him in the side. “Stick to the topic.”

Hunter blasts him with a dirty look, but his expression softens when he returns his focus to me. “While we can track people’s numbers—which FYI, we still need to work on yours more—our specialty is more PI type of stuff.”

“PI … As in a private investigator?” I ask with intrigue.

He nods, strands of his hair falling into his eyes. “Pretty much.”

“Wow … That’s awesome, but weird,” I say. “I mean, you guys are eighteen. How did you even get into this sort of stuff?”

“That’s a question to ask tomorrow,” Hunter explains. “For right now, all we need you to do is go back to your house and think about if you want to help us figure out why in the hell your family is off the grid.”

“Unless you already know,” Zay says, his gaze boring into me.

I carry his gaze. “I really don’t. I didn’t even know that until you guys told me.” What I do want to know, though, is how much they were able to find out about me. They said they found a few articles about my parents, but do they know about my possible involvement in their deaths, or how I can’t remember much about my past? While I’m not going to bring up the first, I can tell them the latter.

“I should probably tell you guys that I have some memory loss,” I admit. “I can’t really remember much about my past leading up to when I had to move in with my aunt and uncle.”

“Really?” Zay asks, and I nod. “Why?”

I swallow the lump wedged in my throat then shrug. “I’ve never been officially diagnosed, but I did see a therapist once, and he suggested it was from the trauma of my … my parents’ deaths.” I stare down at my lap, unable to look any of them in the eyes.

“Hey.” Fingers brush across my chin, startling me.

When I glance up, I find that Hunter is the one who just touched me. He also has a soft smile on his face.

“You don’t need to be ashamed of that,” he says. “Trust me; all of us understand the whole having a traumatic past thing.”

I swallow thickly. “Really?”

He nods, that kind smile remaining. “Yeah, really, baby.”

I’m unsure why, but for some reason that makes me feel better, as if I’m not as much of a freak as I thought. It’s kind of a nice moment for me. Well, except for the fact that he called me baby. I mean, deep down I kind of like it, but I’m sure guys like Hunter call girls baby all the time.

Zay suddenly mutters, “Shit.”

He’s looking at his phone.

Hunter flicks a glance at him. “What is it?”

He holds up the phone, showing video footage of what I think is the road that runs in front of our house. And on the road are headlights.