I took a sip of coffee. Heat shimmied down my throat. “After Doug left to get my mother, and Crissy was alone, Robbie approached her. He hadn’t had time to dig through Brett’s car, and he wasn’t willing to give up his shot at the drugs. The details will all come out when Harmison does his interview, but I’m guessing Robbie convinced Crissy he was there on Brett’s behalf and promised to bring her to him. That explains why both Crissy and Brett’s car were gone when Doug got back. Robbie must have hidden his own car somewhere down the road and taken Crissy in Brett’s instead. Here’s what I do know,” I said through a yawn. “Robbie offered Crissy meth. She’d been prowling for a hit of something at the movies—she was nervous about the plan to leave town, and Doug says she was an emotional mess—so she probably jumped at the chance. But Crissy had never done meth before, and Robbie was just as ignorant about the hard stuff. The dose was too heavy. He told her to snort it—easier that way, and whether he knew it or not, there’s a greater likelihood of psychosis and hallucinations. He probably drove her around for a while, waited until she was good and looped. Then he walked her deep into the woods. Crissy was out of it by then, but not enough that she didn’t detect danger. She tried to fight Robbie off and he hit her, like he did with Brett. They’d been friends, and even dated, and he basically left her for dead. He doubled back, and got rid of Brett’s car.”

Mac’s eyebrow inched upward. “The lake?”

“Or the river,” I said. “It was right there, easily the most convenient option if he wanted to ditch it. That kind of thing happens now and then, stolen vehicles recovered from the bottom of Lake Champlain or the Missisquoi. Once Brett’s car was taken care of, Robbie walked back to his own and went home.”

Scratching at his dark stubble, Tim stretched his arms over his head. “There’s still one thing I don’t get,” he said. “Why was Crissy protecting Robbie? Even if she was fuzzy on the details, she had to remember Robbie gave her meth that night. The kid literally left her high and dry in the woods, and it took her two days to get out. Why didn’t she report him to the police when the search party found her?”

“I’m hoping she can answer that.” Would I ever have the chance to ask? Thinking of my cousin, the present-day version that lay prone in a hospital bed, tugged my mouth into a scowl. Before I left Swanton for the third time that week, Harmison dispatched an officer to Robbie’s house, where I suspected he’d find a near-empty bottle of oxycodone. Robbie had already confessed to sneaking the drugs, prescribed months earlier for his back spasms, into Crissy’s mid-morning coffee.

“Back then, I’m guessing she kept quiet because she didn’t want to risk getting in trouble,” I said. “If she ratted out Robbie, he’d turn around and do the same to her. An abducted teen forced to use illegal drugs against her will is one thing. A teen drug addict on a bender is quite another. When everyone assumed she was taken against her will, she played along. It’s likely Felicia put an end to that investigation because Crissy asked her to. I’m sure Crissy was afraid of what the cops would find out.