“Dixie Clemons. She lives in Akron, one street over from Rachel and Danny. Remember she was at their cookout last summer? She heard all the police cars and ambulances this morning and went over there. There was a big crowd in front of the house, and when she found out what happened, she called me right away because she didn’t want you to hear about it on the news, or from someone else. One of her neighbors in the crowd told her what happened, and then she spoke with a police officer, and while she was talking to him, a report came in about Danny’s car being in a quarry because he drove it off a cliff. I’m sorry, honey, but it really happened.”

“Oh, my God, Mom! Rachel … Danny … dead? And one of the boys? Danny killed them? Which boy, Mom? Christopher or Evan?” Carolyn felt like she was having an out-of-body experience. The question she just asked sounded surreal; she had the sensation that she was standing across the room watching herself speaking on the telephone.

“I’m not sure of their names—I always get them mixed up—but Dixie said she saw the younger boy sitting in an ambulance, and he looked like he was in shock, but he wasn’t hurt. Then the ambulance drove off with him.”

“That means that Evan is dead. That can’t be; he’s only ten years old!”

“I know. It’s so awful. That poor little boy. And dear, dear Rachel. Oh, I wish it were a mistake, but it’s not.”

“Then that means Christopher saw it all, and he’s all alone,” Carolyn mumbled.

“Carolyn? … Carolyn? Are you still on the phone?” She could hear her breathing, but there was no response.

“You stay there; don’t go anywhere. I’m going to come over right away.” Rosemary wished she could just jump through the phone and hold her daughter, but forced herself to hang up and run out the door to her car.

Carolyn continued to hold the phone to her ear and listen to the dial tone as if it were a sound she had never heard before. She stared straight ahead and abruptly stopped crying. She put the receiver back in the cradle, and calmly walked to the steps leading to the upstairs bedrooms. She had an overwhelming desire to hold the high school photo of Rachel and her that was sitting on her dresser. The one where Rachel is planting a kiss right on my cheek, she thought. We always get a big laugh out of that!

She felt Rachel’s presence and pictured her wide eyes and welcoming smile that first day. “You look like you could use a partner. I’m Rachel. What’s your name?” Like a little girl reciting a rhyme, with each step she climbed, she repeated out loud: “I’m Rachel.” Step. “What’s your name?” Step.