Jasper doesn’t point out how unlikely it is that this little excursion to the Harvard student gym will result in us finding Leo. Never mind the even slimmer chance that Leo will lead to Kelsey’s sister. Or that Kelsey’s sister will lead us to Kelsey. Or that all of us together will get the girls out of the hospital.

Jasper hasn’t said one negative or discouraging word since we left Rachel’s house. But I can feel how much he is thinking them. There is a part of me that wonders if he might even be right. The bigger part of me—the part of me that feels—knows, though, that we are headed in the exact right direction. That we have to be.

The endless walking does give me an unfortunate amount of time to think about my dead mother’s ring somehow ending up in her ex–best friend’s drawer, though. I’m glad I took it with me, that I am wearing it now on the chain Teresa gave me. And the photographs, too, stuffed into the tote bag on my shoulder. There is some comfort, at least, in having them close to me. Like I’ve just rescued some small part of my mom.

But rescued her from what? What could the ring and the photographs have been doing there in Rachel’s house? When my mind drifts toward explanations, they are all too awful to let myself linger. The only thing I know for sure is that Rachel is hiding something.

The MAC is finally in sight when the burner phone rings again. It’s Rachel, of course. She’s the only one who knows that phone number. Without a voice mail, the phone rings forever. A moment after it finally stops, a text comes instead.

Where are you? it reads. I just got home.

I take a breath and think about tossing the phone. But what if she’s found out something about my dad? Whether or not she’ll answer me truthfully, I have no idea. I don’t know what Rachel’s motives are for anything anymore. But I have to at least try.

Did you find my dad?

Not yet. You should be here Wylie. Where r u?

I think about sending her a nasty note back, telling her that I found the ring and the pictures. That I know she’s lying about something. A lot probably. Telling her off would just feel good in the moment, though. I’m better off not revealing what I know.

Had to do something, I type, and it’s slow going on that phone. Be back soon. Sorry.

No. Not safe. Come back.

“Rachel?” Jasper asks when I turn off the phone and jam it awkwardly into my pocket. “Do you honestly think she’s involved in all this somehow?”

Is that what I think? No, not exactly. Something bad and deceitful, but not exactly that.