So now, not only are we accusing people of being terrible friends, but we’re also advertising the fact that we’re indulging in a little online stalking.

Fantastic.

Hazel takes a small step back. “Not exactly. We heard about her taking off, but we didn’t know her.”

He watches me for, like, an hour. Well, it certainly feels like an hour.

“Why are you questioning Lucie’s friends?”

I shrug. “We just bumped into them.”

“You here to gossip? She’s not just another runaway, a number. She’s my friend.”

This is going swimmingly. “We don’t think she’s just another runaway. It’s weird that people keep disappearing. No one else seems to be all that concerned.”

He folds his arms and looks at me the way Hazel was looking at those girls.

He can bring it. I’m not intimidated.

Straightening my spine, I gain an inch and stand almost as tall as him. “Do you think Lucie ran away?”

His left eye twitches. “No, I don’t. But she obviously wanted out of here more than she wanted me.”

Oh, she was more than a friend to him. He’s hurting. Of all the people who could have overheard us talking about Lucie, it had to be him. My traitor of a friend seems to have lost her voice. How convenient.

“I’m sorry your friend isn’t here,” I say. My words are sincere. I am sorry.

Shaking his head, he turns on his heel and walks off like he doesn’t want to waste another second on us.

“Well,” I say, turning to Hazel. “Is there anyone else here you feel like insulting, or can we leave?”

“We can so leave.”

In unison, we turn and head up the path.

“Thanks for the backup there,” I say sarcastically, tossing my Coke can into a recycling bin.

Hazel laughs. “You seemed to have things under control. I didn’t feel like you needed backup.”

I glance over my shoulder to take one last look at the group at the lake. Around the back of it is the river that runs through town. Lucie’s boyfriend stares at us with folded arms and a deep frown. Whatever.

“What do you think is going to happen if we find her? And the others?” Hazel asks. “They might not want to be found.”

“I don’t know. But I can’t imagine it’s easy for the people who love them not to know where they are and if they’re okay. Besides, what are the chances of us actually finding them? Because I’m thinking it’s an absolute zero.”

“We’re not trying to solve crimes; we’re looking into the weirdness of all the runaways, and it still beats sitting home all summer, remember?”