“I handed them over to the festival manager for their seasonal write-offs. I can look into it though.”

“That would be great.” Crystal finally speaks up and snakes an arm around my shoulder. “Thanks for your help, Beth.”

“Of course.” She opens the door for us. “I’d do the same thing if I thought … well, anyway. I’ll see you at the vigil?”

I turn. “You’re coming?”

“Friends show up for each other no matter what.” She sounds like she’s reciting something from a Hallmark card.

I don’t remind her that my supposed friends are the very reason I had to lie to the police in the first place.

“Bye, Bec.” Her door shuts, but I am still haunted by Trevor’s cry.

Crystal’s phone rings, and she drops her hand. “Hello?” She steps away and talks in hushed tones then hangs up. “That’s odd. That was Officer Toby. He wants me to come in.”

“Really?” If they’ve dropped any sort of investigation, why are they calling her in now? Suddenly, I feel horrible that all my friends are being subjected to questioning, but if it gets me even one step closer to finding my son, then it’s a price I hope they’re willing to pay. “I’m sorry, Crystal.”

“Don’t be. I’m happy to help.” Her voice is strained. “The station is just a few blocks away. Do you want me to walk back with you first?”

I shake my head. “I’m okay. Let me know how it goes.”

“I will.” She pulls me into a hug, and I grimace. “I’ll see you tonight.”

She jogs away in the opposite direction. I’m alone on the street. I don’t want to go home and face Jake or Jess—if she’s even still there. The baby! I hurry back toward my house and attempt to calm my nerves. Jessica would never leave a baby at home alone. Though she’s been leaving Baxter with the nanny to tend to my every beck and call.

Once again, I battle the guilt about taking my friends away from their children. I turn right, pick up my pace, but stop at the entrance to Wilder. Voices vibrate from the playground and prick my ears with curiosity. No matter how hard I try, this park keeps sucking me back like the scene of a crime.

Because it is, I remind myself. My clothes stick to my heated body, and I’m practically folded in half from how severely my back hurts. I go to ask Siri the time and remember I’ve forgotten my phone: such a stupid mistake. I finger my wrist, but I’m not wearing my watch either. When someone passes, I ask for the time: three.