She sees the man then. She nearly screams. He’s tall, wiry, early forties, dark hair with a touch of gray. Nice clothes, expensive jacket. He switches on a flashlight.

“Oh,” she says. “You scared me.” She’s still scared—she doesn’t know this man.

“Sorry. Some of the neighborhood dads and moms organized just to walk around, make sure no one suspicious is lurking. I got assigned this stretch of greenbelt leading to Ned’s house.”

“Oh,” she says. “Ned’s not there. He’s at the Horvath house.”

“Yeah, I saw the police took over Ned’s house,” the man says again. “Let me guess, you’re heading over there to see him.”

How does this man know about her friendship with Ned? Well, probably she and Ned were mentioned multiple times on the Winding Creek Neighborhood Faceplace page.

“I’m Julia,” she says.

“I know,” he says with a neighborly smile. “I’m Marland. Friend of Ned’s. I take it your parents don’t know you’re out.”

“Please don’t say anything. I just want to check on Ned. In person.” She tries not to blush.

“It’s not my business,” Marland says with a slight smile. “I can’t imagine how horrible his day has been. He’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

She nods and goes past him. “Are there other people patrolling on the greenbelt?”

“Just me along this stretch. We want to keep the curiosity seekers from Ned’s house. There are others up by the park.”

“Thanks. Bye.” She nods again and hurries on, glancing back at him once. It strikes her as odd he called it Ned’s house, like a teenager would…not Danielle’s house. Odd that an adult described himself as a friend of Ned’s rather than Danielle’s. She hopes no one else is along the greenbelt, to snitch on her to her parents.

She passes several more houses, exits the greenbelt, cuts between two homes, and she’s on another street. If she stuck to the greenbelt, she’d still get to Mike’s house. It would just take longer. She crosses the street and heads to the backyard. There’s an iron fence fronting the greenbelt here, a low mesh barrier on the ground, to dissuade the snakes and field mice, and a gate, usually locked. She climbs over the fence and approaches the back door of Mike Horvath’s house.

She hears Ned’s and Mike’s voices inside, talking softly.

“…Not going to London. Or Ghana.”

“I’ll talk to him.” Mike, calm and quiet.

“He said I have to go!” Ned’s voice, rising.

“Of course you should finish school here. You’ll always have…” and then Mike’s deep voice fading, moving away from the door that leads into a back mudroom connected to the garage, and Ned’s voice, pleading, fades as well. She waits. Then she knocks gently.