“What about that light in the top window?” Lauren’s voice crackled through the speakerphone. “At the back there. See? On the left?”

Ronnie peered upward. A single light blazed. It looked like it could be a bedroom. North’s?

“Piper’s . . . son?” Miss Barnes from Silver Swans had repeated, when they’d called her a few minutes before. She was the only person they could think of who might know something and might be willing to talk. Andrea hadn’t wanted to call her, and neither had Ronnie—it felt sensitive, as their kids were still technically part of Miss Barnes’s class. So Lauren made the call, and both of them had listened in.

Lauren asked Miss Barnes what she knew about the boy and if he was okay after Piper’s attack. “I’m assuming he’s fine,” Miss Barnes said. “But . . . I haven’t heard much. Piper and I don’t really run in the same circles. I’m sorry, who is this again?” Miss Barnes didn’t sound so friendly anymore. When Lauren explained she was a concerned mother, Miss Barnes said, “Well, look, if Piper wanted everyone to know where her son could be found, that’s her information to share.”

“Please, if you could just—” Lauren started. But already Miss Barnes had said her goodbyes.

Now, Andrea bit her lip in frustration. “I think Piper mentioned the name of the school to me, in the meeting. But I can’t remember.”

Ronnie looked around the property to see if something would jog her memory. There was a car in Piper’s driveway. It was the same tricked-out white Range Rover she’d noticed in the Silver Swans parking lot—Vanessa had always had a thing for Range Rovers, so she always noticed them. Ronnie hadn’t realized it was Piper’s car. Who had driven it home after she was attacked?

She got out of the car on a hunch. Lauren poked her head out Andrea’s passenger window. “Where are you going?” she hissed.

“I want to check something,” she called over her shoulder. It wasn’t a big deal that she was walking up Piper’s driveway, she told herself. She could just be a concerned mother dropping off a baked good for Piper’s kid. Of course, if a nosy someone from the Facebook group caught her, that was one thing . . . but the street was empty, the only sound the ocean breeze.

The vehicle was unremarkable. There were no boastful bumper stickers—the 26.2 one was popular around here—and after a cursory peek inside, the seats were spotless. Piper was likely the kind of person who cleaned her car (or had someone clean her car) on a regular basis. Ronnie was about to turn back when she noticed a white folder lying on the passenger seat. She moved closer to get a look. St. Sebastian School, read a crest across the front. Welcome materials.