I look at her. Then I turn away, stare out the window, out at the docks, the bay, at all the night-lit houses in this strange little neighborhood. I can see directly into the Hahns’ floating home. Mr. and Mrs. Hahn are sitting on the couch, side by side, eating their nightly bowls of ice cream, watching television.

“What do I do now, Hannah?” she says. My name hangs there like an accusation.

Bailey pushes her hair behind her ears, and I can see her lip start to quiver. It is so strange and unexpected—Bailey has never cried in front of me—that I almost reach out to hold her to me, like it’s something we do.

Protect her.

I unbuckle my seat belt. Then I reach over and unbuckle hers. Simple movements.

“Let’s go into the house and I’ll make some phone calls,” I say. “Someone’s going to know where your father is. We’ll start there. We’ll start by finding him, so he can explain this all.”

“Okay,” she says.

She opens her car door and steps outside. But she turns back to look at me, her eyes blazing.

“But Bobby’s coming over,” she says. “I won’t say anything about my father’s special delivery, but I really want him here.”

She isn’t asking. What choice do I have anyway, even if she were? “Just stay downstairs, okay?”

She shrugs, which is as close to an agreement as we are going to reach on the matter. And before I can worry too much about it, I see a car pulling up, headlights blinking at us, bright and demanding.

My first thought is: Owen. Please be Owen. But my second thought feels more precise and I prepare myself. It’s the police. It has to be the police. They’re probably here to find Owen—to gather information about his involvement in his firm’s criminal activities, to assess what I know about his employment at The Shop, and about his current whereabouts. As if I have any information to pass along to them.

But I’m wrong on that count too.

The lights go off and I see that it’s a bright blue Mini Cooper and I know it’s Jules. It’s my oldest friend, Jules, hustling out of her Mini Cooper and racing toward me at top speed, her arms wide and outstretched. She is hugging us, hugging both Bailey and me, as hard as she can.

“Hello, my loves,” she says.

Bailey hugs her back. Even Bailey loves Jules, despite the fact that I’m the one who brought her into Bailey’s life. This is who Jules is to everyone who is lucky enough to know her. Comforting, steady.

It may be why of everything I’m guessing she’ll say to me in that moment, the one thing I don’t expect is what actually comes out of her mouth.