I call her, and it goes to voicemail, so I keep looking, as my fists clench tighter and tighter. Did she leave? Surely she would have texted me.

There’s no reason to be concerned, is there?

But she’s not in the front yard, and she’s not in the backyard, and I am becoming concerned. Each second she’s nowhere, the feeling that something awful might be happening multiplies. I need to locate her now, before this fear swallows me.

Where on earth is she? Why have I still not found her?

In the backyard, Harriet spies me and approaches at once. “Have you seen Danni?” we ask each other in unison in place of a greeting.

My stomach twists at her words. “Why?” I ask.

Harriet is drunk. Her eyes are red and unfocused, she’s slurring her words, and she smells like beer. It’s really not pleasant interacting with drunk people when you’re not wasted yourself. I finally understand Molly’s constant complaints on the topic. “I’m not sure she’s okay,” she says. “I think you should check on her.”

My blood turns to ice water, scraping against my veins with every pump of my heart. I’ve lived this night before. I already know what comes next, but it’s impossible, because I can’t do this again.

“What did you do to her?” I ask, and the fury and fear in my voice seems to snap Harriet into focus, if only for a moment.

“I … don’t really want to … never mind that. Just check on her, okay?”

I try to tell myself Amsterdam isn’t happening again, but it feels far too familiar, and the fear forces its way past my defenses. I can barely breathe. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know. Last I saw, she went inside, maybe half an hour ago?”

Her words ring in my ears. She’s been missing for half an hour. It’s like last time, just like last time. Every domino is falling exactly as it already did.

I leave Harriet, go back inside the house, and to the stairs. I feel as though I have double vision. Every step is overlayed by the image of a staircase I climbed in my memories. My stomach is twisting and my chest is tightening and my heart is slamming against my chest in more and more insistent thuds.

It’s quiet. Florence asked people not to come up here, and people have respected that. But Danni’s never been one to stay out of off-limits rooms as long as I’ve known her. Theodore lingers back at the beginning of the hallway, and it doesn’t occur to me to ask him to stay close. I’m barely able to form a coherent thought.