The thought makes me dizzy, and I wait for Amy to walk across the courtyard, then run after her.

“Hi,” I say, and she turns without smiling.

“Hello.”

It sounds strange, and I wonder if she stopped trusting me the moment I walked out of her brother’s bedroom. Or was it when I passed him a note asking for a truth Amy couldn’t give?

“Someone wrote a warning on our car window today.”

I drop it in the space between us and see what damage it does. But Amy just creases her eyebrows and says, “What kind of warning?”

Okay, I’ll play. “It said ‘Stop looking.’”

“That’s weird. What do you think it means?”

“I think I’ve pissed someone off.”

Amy looks over my shoulder and says, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“What?”

“I saw you come out of Will’s room. You were snooping. You still think my family’s hiding something, and it upset me.”

“Enough to send a warning?”

Amy’s face changes instantly. Her eyes narrow, her lips curl downward, and she practically growls at me. “You think that was me?”

“You said it yourself: I was snooping.”

“But there’s nothing to find, Tom. You can look all you want. I don’t care.”

A tear falls down her cheek, and, once again, I wonder if I’m wrong about all of this. When we’re apart, I know for certain that I’m on to something. But, when we’re together, I doubt everything.

Amy looks betrayed. I pissed her off when I snuck into Will’s room. But blaming her for the message on our car window—it looks like I’ve gone too far. I don’t think she knows about the note I wrote to him. She’s angry because I still doubt her. And the only thing I know for certain is that one of us is right. Either Amy’s a great actress or I’m digging a hole I’ll never get out of.

If Will isn’t prepared to help, the only way to find out the truth is to get back into that house. I need to keep Amy on my side or risk carrying these questions forever.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I believe you.”

A moment of surprise flickers across her face, quickly replaced by an uncertain smile. “You do?”

“Yes.”