Izzie had been out for the summer already when she’d gotten the call at home. She’d been by herself. It was Mom’s boss who’d told her. He’d said he was sorry, he was very sorry. Because of course he was. He was calling to tell a little girl her mother was dead. He’d asked if there was someone else he could call, someone who could come and pick her up. Someone who could stay with her.

He didn’t know that there wasn’t anyone else. Not in Idaho, at least.

No, she’d told him. He didn’t need to do that. She’d take care of it.

And she had. The moment she’d gotten off the phone, she’d gone into the kitchen and found the tin that Julie kept a few spare twenties in. She’d loaded her backpack as full as she could while still being able to zip it closed. She’d locked the door to the house and walked three miles to the bus station. She’d said her mom was in the bathroom and that she was buying the ticket for her. She’d bought a ticket to Redmond, Oregon, as far as the money could get her. Then she’d boarded the bus, sitting at the back, clutching her backpack so no one would steal it. She’d brought five granola bars, three apples, and two water bottles.

In Redmond, she’d widened her eyes and stuck out her bottom lip and found a family willing to take her west. She’d ditched them in Mapleton, twelve miles outside of Seafare, after hearing the adults talking about calling the police. She’d walked the rest of the way until she’d stood on the doorstep of the Green Monstrosity, dirt smudged on her face, hair flat on her head, sweat beading on her top lip.

She’s with Ty in the backyard when I hang up the phone with the hospital. Otter’s sitting at my side at the kitchen table, his hand a heavy weight on my knee. Dom’s leaning against the counter in uniform, his shift starting in another hour or so.

“Her body is still in the morgue,” I say. “Because they couldn’t find anyone to claim it. I don’t even think anyone was looking for Izzie.”

“I’ll make a few phone calls when I get to the station,” Dom says. “See if anyone reported her missing.”

I smile gratefully at him. “Thanks. It’ll help, I think.”

“Any other family?”

I shake my head. “Not for us. Nobody that ever stuck around, anyway. And she says that her dad has been gone for years.”

“We need to call Erica,” Otter says. “Get the ball rolling. And if she can’t help us, Anna will find someone that can.”

“It’s that easy for you?” Dom asks, sounding a little surprised.