She shuts the door on our thanks, watching us through the pane as, a second later, Trace comes around the back of the barn, wearing coveralls flecked with dried mud and bits of hay.

He dabs his brow with the back of his glove. “Hey. Heard you guys pull up, but I was hiding from my mom.” He glances over at the door; Ms. Savage steps back from the glass. “Friggin’ Crack welshed on our gentleman’s agreement. Goat-sucking bastard.” He kisses Sage, who kisses him back, keeping as much distance as possible from his coveralls.

“Does he know?” I ask.

“Nah. I mean, he suspects. But he’s got no proof.” Trace shrugs, starts walking back to the barn. “Sending me home was, like . . . a preventive measure. Get me out of school for a couple days, hope the pranking will die down once the bad seed is gone.”

“We wanted to make sure you were okay.” Sage watches as he picks up a shovel leaning against the wall. “If I didn’t know your mom had you on lockdown, I would’ve been freaking.”

“Somebody took your mask,” I say.

He pauses in the open bay of the haymow, looking back at me. As I tell him what happened, he gradually gets back to mucking out the stalls, turning shovelfuls of manure and soiled hay into a wheelbarrow. A couple of brown-and-white goats wander over to stare at us, jawing in a terminally bored fashion. “He was tall, like you—I don’t know, maybe he wanted me to think he was you. Or maybe he just wanted me to know that he knows who we are.” I try not to lose my temper as Trace focuses on scraping the edge of the shovel across the floorboards. “I think he knows we pulled those pranks.” I make a frustrated sound. “He was trying to get me.”

“What—you think it was one of those Father Knows Best drones from Perfect Street? Come on.” He laughs. “Their idea of risk is letting the warranty expire on their electric hedge trimmers.” I watch as he drops the shovel and walks past us, saying to the goats, “You guys have to stop shitting so much. Seriously.” He goes to his car and we follow, watching him root around inside for a while before he comes out and leans against it, arms resting on the roof. “Huh.”

Sage tosses up her hands. “Did you think she made it up? Some psycho got into your car and stole the mask, numbnuts. He wanted to hurt Clarabelle.”

“He came out of the woods, dude.” Moon’s expression is grim. “Ivy? Gavin? Dabney’s head? Know what I’m saying?”

“And Kincaid and Clarabelle said they saw someone in the marsh the night Ivy disappeared.” Sage rubs her arms. “Maybe he started following all of us after that.”