Adam obviously wasn’t anywhere in the living or dining room. Clare walked, as carefully as she could, through the crowd and deeper into the Robertses’ house. Out back, there were even more people hanging out around and splashing in the illuminated in-ground pool. The watery turquoise light shimmered, and steam lifted off the surface, obscuring the exact identities of the few people who floated, played chicken on shoulders, or were making out against the tiled walls. Clare wandered from group to group, scanning the backyard for Adam, but he didn’t seem to be here either.

“Hey, Clare!”

She turned. Carl stood behind her, smoking pot from a blown-glass pipe and drinking with a few juniors who had crashed the party. “Hey,” she said. When Carl offered her the pipe and his lighter, she took it and lit the already charred bud while she inhaled deeply. She held on to it for several seconds before tilting her head back and releasing the rich-smelling smoke into the air above her. “Thanks,” she said, handing the pipe and lighter back to him. “Hey, have you seen Adam anywhere?”

Carl nodded and passed the pipe to a short blond girl in a bikini top and cutoff jeans to his right. “Yeah, maybe ten minutes ago? Or maybe it was longer? Shit, I don’t know. What time is it anyway?” He laughed. “He was coming out of one of the bathrooms.”

“Oh, thanks. Do you happen to know where?”

Carl shook his head. “This fucking place is huge—a goddamned mansion compared to my house. Maybe somewhere in that wing?” He laughed again and pointed toward the far end of the house. It was dark, far away from all the lights and noise emanating from the living and dining rooms.

“Thanks,” Clare said again and headed for a small patio area that had a sliding glass door that led back into the house.

Inside, Clare slid the heavy glass closed behind her and entered what was most likely Heather’s parents’ master bedroom. The large, king-sized bed was expertly made up with an expensive-looking comforter set and matching pillows piled against the sturdy oak headboard. A matching armoire and dresser flanked opposite walls and supported porcelain figurines and silver-framed photos of Heather and her little sister.

Feeling like an intruder in this personal and private space, Clare rushed for the wood door on the opposite side of the room, careful to close the bedroom door behind her. The hallway on this side of the house was dark and quiet compared to the thump and grind in full swing on the opposite side. There were several doors down here, probably the other bedrooms and bathrooms, but it didn’t sound like anyone else was here. If Adam had been here to use the bathroom, he had probably already rejoined the party.