Look who was suddenly making the promises. I nodded. Numbly.

Ema took my hand. “Are you okay?”

Another numb nod. Then I said, “It’s just . . .” I stopped myself, but there I sat, Ema holding my hand, Spoon looking at me from his bed with such concern. “After my dad was killed, I didn’t look at any pictures of him. You know? It just hurt too much. I don’t know. I couldn’t handle it.”

“We understand,” Ema said.

“Now I not only see him,” I said, pointing toward the screen, “but I see him on a video made before I was even born. So it’s just . . .”

No more words would come out.

“Totally get it,” Spoon said.

“Absolutely,” Ema added.

Ema and I were still holding hands. It felt good.

“Perhaps,” Spoon said, “a distraction would be nice.” He opened his laptop and started typing. “As you may remember, Jared Lowell lives on Adiona Island, off the coast of Massachusetts. It requires two buses and a ferry to get to. Since the only day in the next week where you don’t have either school or basketball practice is tomorrow, I took the liberty of booking two tickets. You’ll have to leave early again in the morning.”

“Wait, I can’t go tomorrow,” Ema said. “I promised my mom I’d go to her show in New York.”

“Maybe that’s better,” I said.

“What?”

“I can find Jared and talk to him without you there. Maybe he’ll be more forthcoming.”

Ema frowned. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, he’s right,” Spoon said. “Perhaps it is best you don’t go.”

“So Mickey goes alone?” Ema asked.

Then I remembered my texts with Rachel. “Not alone,” I said. “I’ll have backup.”

CHAPTER 29

I admit that this action—coming all the way out to this island—seemed extreme.

Ema and I had already wasted half a day heading up to the Farnsworth School trying to find Jared Lowell. That was one thing. It made some sense. But now we stood on the ferry, watching Adiona Island grow larger as we approached, hoping against hope that maybe Jared was here and we would find him and this mystery would be over.

I shook my head thinking about it.

“What’s wrong?” Rachel asked me.

The wind blew her hair across her face. I wanted to reach out and push it back, tuck it behind her ear, but of course, I didn’t. “What are the odds he’s even here?”

“Jared? He lives here, right?”

“Right.”

“And that guy you met up at the prep school said he’d gone home, right?”

“Right.”

“So I’d say the odds are pretty good.”

I shook my head again.

“You don’t agree?” she asked.

“Do you think we’re going to just knock on his door and find him home?” I frowned. “It’s never that easy for us.”

Rachel smiled. “True.”