Betsy and I are in a standoff, that’s for sure. But this helpful note writer, anonymous as he or she may be, is on my side. I reach for the new note on the coffee table. It is clearly written by the same person as the first one. I am certain Betsy knows the author of these notes. I am certain she knows much more about a lot of things.

I will simply wait up for her. She must come home at some point. Graduation is tomorrow. I remember my own high school graduation day, a period and THE END on my life in Eureka Springs. The next day, Bobby and I were gone.

My heart thumps. My eyes open wide with the realization. Betsy has made the same type of plans. It’s all clear to me now. She keeps telling me she is gone after graduation and now I know she’s going with Bo. This is what Hoffman was warning me about.

Young people are so foolish sometimes. Add illicit love and, well, they become complete idiots. Like mother, like daughter. I’ll save her from herself.

17

2:00 a.m.

I sit on the couch in the living room awake, waiting for Betsy. I’ve left my lookout only to use the bathroom and make a snack. I’m on a mission. I’m focused.

It’s time to extract information from my daughter. But I’m going to need help. What exactly does the anonymous note writer think Betsy knows, versus what I know? David will be no help. But there are professionals who do this. People like Detective Branson.

I stretch. What if Betsy made it into the house without alerting me, somehow sneaking past me through the outside courtyard when I was having my snack, darting down to her bedroom undetected by going around the side? I need to check. I guess I’ll let her sleep if she’s down there. But if she’s awake, I’ll strike, cobra-like.

What if she isn’t home? What if she doesn’t come home at all?

My heart thumps and I pull out my phone. Text Betsy: Where are you?

Betsy texts: You’ll never find peace until you let everything go.

What? I punch in her number. The phone rings twice before it’s answered. By a man.

“Mrs. Harris. This is Bo—we met at school. Betsy is safe. She’ll be home a little later.”

“Give Betsy her phone this minute. She has a curfew. She’s in high school.”

“Mom, calm down. I told Bo you wouldn’t like him answering. I’ll be home late. Go to sleep. It’s Seniors’ Day, late start.” Betsy’s voice sounds like she is on drugs.

“I need you home this minute. I will pick you up.” I remember she thinks I don’t drive anymore.

“You don’t drive. I’m fine. I’ll be home soon.”