“Nothing, I swear. We were gonna meet up but she got busy. The last time we texted was Tuesday afternoon. She said she had something to do that night but would text me when she was done. She never did. Here.” He shoves his phone at my chest. “Take a look if you don’t believe me.”

I clutch his phone in my hand but I don’t look at the thing. I’m too busy breathing through the fury, the panic.

Paul steps up next to me, a supportive presence, but his words are aimed at Micah. “Can you talk to your dad? We need to know what we’re dealing with here, what, if anything, the police are holding back. She told Chet she had plans on Tuesday night. Can you find out if the police know what they were?”

Micah laughs, a harsh sound without humor. “You know as well as I do that man tells me nothing. I have zero control over what happens next. He’s just following leads, is all, and Chet did sleep with her.”

I wince.

Paul turns to Chet. “I take it you can make that list?”

Chet gives him a shaky nod. “Yeah, but seriously, man. We were all asleep. Is sleeping even an alibi?”

“Yes,” Micah says. “Especially if there was some kind of security system holding you inside, or if you can find a neighbor to confirm your car was there all night. Your phone’s another piece of the puzzle, assuming it was on you that whole time. They’ll use it to verify if you were where you say you were, so be as specific as possible. Retrace your steps, and make sure to write down everybody you saw or spoke to that day. Every name you can think of, even if you didn’t have an actual conversation with them. The more people saw you around town, the better.”

Chet thanks him, then scurries off to Paul’s study. Suddenly, I’m thinking about the Hostess cupcakes stashed in a shoebox at the back of my closet upstairs. Chocolate and sugar and preservatives. I want them so bad I contemplate marching up there. I want them so bad my teeth ache.

I whirl to face Micah, then Paul. “Chet didn’t do this. You know he didn’t.”

Diana sinks onto a counter stool. “Well, then he shouldn’t have lied. It doesn’t look good, you know. No wonder Chief Hunt is so angry.”

“That’s very helpful, Diana.” I stuff as much condescension as I can in my tone—a page from her playbook. Paul’s palm presses onto my back, but I shake him off. “Thank you for pointing it out.”