“Sure, I—” The kid’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to take it.” Tomasetti holds out his hand. “Give it to me.”

The kid wants to refuse. I see it in his face and in the way he can’t quite make himself reach into his pocket to get it out. But he must see something in Tomasetti’s eyes, because after a moment, he produces the phone. “That cost me plenty.”

“We’re just going to take a look, see if it will help us with a time line.” He removes an evidence bag from his pocket and the boy drops the phone into it. “You’ll get it back.”

Justin doesn’t believe him, and looks away. “What ever.”

“You know, Justin, it would have been helpful if you’d come to us when she first went missing,” Goddard says.

“So that’s what you’re calling it?” Treece looks from Goddard to me to Tomasetti. “She’s missing?”

“Her parents just filed a missing-person report,” I tell him.

“I figured she was fine,” the boy says. “How was I supposed to know?”

“You could have tried using that thing between your ears,” Tomasetti tells him.

The teenager gives him a “Fuck you” look.

“Does she have any other friends she might have taken off with?” Goddard asks.

Justin shakes his head. “Most of her friends are Amish.”

“Did she have transportation?” I ask.

Another shake. “Not that I know of. She couldn’t afford a car.” He chuckles. “I let her drive mine once and she took out old man Heath’s mailbox.”

“So you just assumed she’d walked somewhere?” Tomasetti asks.

“Or took the bus.” His voice turns belligerent. “Look, we’re friends, but I ain’t her fuckin’ keeper.”

“How did you meet her?” I ask.

“She was walking along the road. It was raining, so I stopped and asked her if she wanted a ride. She got in.” He lifts a shoulder, lets it drop. “I offered her a cigarette and she smoked it.” He smiles. “It was funny, because she was wearing that old-lady dress—you know, the Amish getup. We hit it off.”

“Are you involved in a relationship with her?” Tomasetti asks.

“Well . . . we’re friends . . . mostly.”

Tomasetti sighs. “Are you sleeping with her, Justin?”

To his credit, the kid blushes. “I guess. I mean, we did it a few times. But we weren’t like boyfriend and girlfriend or anything like that. I’m not ready to get tied down, so I set the boundary right off the bat.”

Silence falls and all of us stand there, caught up in our own thoughts. The two little girls watch the scene from the kitchen, eating chips from a bag. Tomasetti’s trying not to look at them, but he’s not quite managing.

I look at Justin. “If you wanted to get out of Buck Creek so badly, why didn’t you go with her?” I ask.