The night was dark as they slipped out of the office, but just barely. In about an hour, the sun would rise. “It’s almost morning,” Lily said, leading Jack across the parking lot, to the place where their bikes were waiting for them. Lily had moved into the wellness facility when she was fourteen, which meant she’d never learned to drive. She’d never gone on a date. And up until recently, her sleepovers had been incredibly tame. “You don’t have to come back with me… unless you want to sneak into Raven’s bedroom,” she added, because Jack had the look of someone who’d been trying to be tame for too long.

For all their differences, they had that in common.

“No, it’s okay,” Jack said, that old familiar blush taking over her face. Not just her cheeks, but her neck and ears, too. “I want to get home before my brothers wake up. Someone has to make sure they eat breakfast.”

Lily nodded, struggling to hide her relief. If Jack came back with her now, she wouldn’t be able to read through her father’s file. As it was, the two parted ways, promising to call each other the second they found a possible suspect. Lily’s bike had a basket, and once Jack was out of sight, she set her purse inside it, tucking the original file beside the copies.

She rode off as the sky lightened to gray.

7 The Boy in the Branches

Jack stood beneath Raven’s window, asking herself what she was doing. She’d meant what she’d said about going home. But three blocks from her house, she’d remembered that spring break had started, and she didn’t need to get her brothers up for school in the morning. They would sleep late, sprawled out across the living room floor.

No one would know if she made one quick stop.

And so she’d ridden her bike to Holloway Manor. She’d slipped through the loose bar in the back gate, like she had a hundred times before. The last time she’d climbed up to Raven’s bedroom, she’d been fourteen years old, but her hands remembered the places where the gray stones stuck out just so. The ivy grew thicker at the back of the house. There was less chance of falling to her death, though it was a possibility.

His bedroom was on the third floor. By the time Jack reached his window, she was panting from the climb. Her chest ached. Her heart was a feral creature, screaming louder than her scratched palms, and she was grateful that he’d left the window cracked.

Some things didn’t change.