By the time I neared the library, I had convinced myself so thoroughly that I was going to die before ever arriving that I hopped off the bike and walked it toward the building as soon as it came into view. The Willow Public Library, a small brick building with an oddly modern added-on wing in the back, was located on the same street as our park district and shared a parking lot. As I grew closer, I could see the town swimming pool, still empty and desolate, as it would remain until Memorial Day. It was likely that the soccer fields would be buzzing with activity within a few hours, as soon as parents started dropping off kids for their matches. But at that hour, it was a safe bet that no one saw me roll Mom’s bike around the back of the library and rest it on its kickstand outside the children’s section.

Then I had to figure out how to contact Trey inside the building without setting off any kind of alarms. I paced the perimeter of the building around to the front again, and settled on trying to get his attention with the book return. The oversize metal drawer led to a chute that ended in a bin behind the front desk, and assuming that Trey was on the building’s first floor, I figured he’d probably be able to hear me if I called to him through it.

“Hey! Is anybody home?” I called into the empty drawer after pulling it open with the handle. “Hello… ?”

Just as I was starting to feel self-conscious, I heard a tapping noise to my left. There was Trey, shaking his head and grinning at me in amusement on the other side of the library’s clear front doors, as if whatever terrible circumstances had landed him here were of no concern.

“I know. Very funny,” I joked. As always, upon seeing his face, I momentarily forgot about everything bad that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. He was safe; we were together. Seeing him smiling at me from ten feet away was all I could have wanted… until I remembered that now I was the one in trouble, most definitely more urgent trouble than his. Everything had changed since our brief encounter at the airport less than a day ago.

I swallowed hard, hoping that my sudden wave of sadness wasn’t showing in my eyes.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to stop by,” he said, scratching his head, which looked like it had been recently shaved. He had less than half an inch of dark hair all the way around his skull, making his face look thinner and his features look more delicate than usual.

I gestured at the library. “It took me a while to figure out your clue,” I said apologetically. “How can I get inside?”

“There’s a security system,” he said, thumbing at an electronic device with an LCD screen on the wall. “They should be trying to get more people in here instead of trying to keep them out, if you ask me. But hold on a second.”