Thea Malcolm.

Then there are a bunch of articles about arson. Barns, sheds, one dive bar. Unsolved. I check the locations. Beltram County. Arapahana Township. Everywhere Josiah Malcolm—and his daughter—has lived.

Okay. So Thea’s father is a drunk and a wacko. Sounds like it runs in the family.

I open the attachment.

It’s a screen shot—page after page after page—from someone’s Facebook account.

It’s some girl I don’t recognize. She’s pretty. Dark-haired, small-featured. She looks a little like Frankie.

And she’s dead.

I only have to skim a few messages to figure it out. Rest in peace notes, crying emojis, photos of the same girl with group after group of friends.

Then a conversation starts.

- Corrine, you were the nicest person in the entire world there’s no way you did this to yourself I just wish you knew how much we all love you

- She DIDN’T do this to herself

- That’s what I’ve been saying for like a week!!!

- It wasn’t suicide. It was that girl. Thea Malcolm.

I lean closer to the screen.

- We all knew there was something screwed up about her

- But they moved away before it even happened

- Yeah I know. They had to move because of what she did to Corinne.

- Thea was totally obsessed with her. Following Corinne everywhere. Marking her window with that X in blood. Fricking MESSED UP.

A sour taste fills my mouth. I shoot another look at the curtained window.

- We don’t know that was her

- It WAS. Corinne even knew.

- So why didn’t she go to jail or a mental ward or something?

- Because Corinne is CORINNE. She thought Thea was just trying to “protect” her or something. That’s what she told me.

- She’s too nice

- She WAS too nice.

There’s more. Lots more.

But I can’t go on. My hands are shaking.

Jesus.

I fumble at the buttons of my phone.

Jezz picks up on the first ring.

“Hey.” His voice is hushed. A little breathless. “Did you read the stuff?”

“Yeah. I read it.” I swallow hard. “Where did you get it?”

“Google, dude. Plus, my cousin Noah lives up by Beltram. I texted him when Patrick and I found that thing about Thea and her dad living up there, and he told me—” Jezz pauses. There’s a little crackle in the background. “Dude,” says Jezz, softer now. “He told me she’s done this before.”

“Done what?” I say. Even though I already know.

“She kidnapped that girl. Corinne.” Jezz speaks rapidly. “She kept her in some old barn for days. Then Corinne escaped, and Thea and her dad left town, and like a week later, Corinne was dead. Noah said the police called it suicide, but . . . it was something else. And everybody knew it.”

“So . . .” I scrape out the next words. “You think she has Frankie somewhere?”

“Yeah,” says Jezz. No hesitation. “And she’s dangerous.”

I get up and check the window curtains again, making sure there’s not even a sliver of a gap between. I can’t force myself to peek out. “Maybe we should go to the police.”