“You had it all figured out, didn’t you?” she went on. “Didn’t think to run any of the alternate-side-of-the-house stuff by us before deciding yourself what it all meant.”

“This from the person who didn’t believe Stephanie from the start,” I muttered.

“Yeah, well, looks like you were the one who didn’t believe her this time,” Charlotte countered, her words burning. Because, again, she wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t believed Stephanie. Not until nearly a week ago when, after the sage cleansing, she’d vanished in the middle of the night from her house.

“Look,” I said. “I’ve already apologized. Yeah, I thought I had the answer. I thought I knew what we were facing. I did what I did because . . . because I figured you all would have come to the same conclusion anyhow. For me, in that moment, the bottom line was that Stephanie needed help and we were all she had.”

“Because we didn’t even try to contact anyone else!” said Charlotte, who, along with Wes and Patrick, still didn’t know about my reaching out to Rastin. Now, though, didn’t seem like the best time to bring that up.

“In all fairness, Charlotte,” said Wes, surprising me by possibly coming to my defense, “I can’t say I don’t follow Lucas’s logic.” He paused to aim his kohl-rimmed eyes at me. “Not that I’m excusing the way you handled things. But, at the end of the day, who’s to say we would have approached the issue any differently if we had gotten the story straight from Stephanie. I, for one, would have still gone in.”

“We all would have,” snapped Charlotte. “That’s my point. But what’s yours, Wes?”

“My point,” replied Wes, “is that, regardless of what Lucas did or didn’t tell us, we’d still probably all be sitting here right now talking about Stephanie, who would still be missing.”

“That’s the thing, though,” said Patrick. “This discussion right here?” He stabbed the table with a finger. “It isn’t about whether or not we would have gone in. It’s about whether or not we should go back in.”

“And why the hell wouldn’t we?” I challenged.

“Lucas,” said Patrick. “They found Stephanie’s blood on the floor in Charlie’s room.”

“Yeah,” I said, my temper rising by another notch. Because we’d already had this conversation. “I know the cops found her blood, but—”

“Apparently, her dad also has a record.” Wes again. “And he resisted arrest.”

Okay. Now I wanted to throw something. Instead, I took a pause and a breath before speaking again. Because I had to be reasonable if I wanted any of them to see reason. “You might resist arrest, too, if someone you loved went missing and, instead of being able to look for them, you were getting locked up.”

“We’re not saying we think her dad hurt her,” said Charlotte.

“Really? It seems to me like you are.” I frowned at my hands on the table, at my untouched food, at the enormity of the mistake I’d made in ever letting Stephanie walk back into that house. Also, in putting my own judgment ahead of hers after she’d been brave enough to confide in me.