I don’t like Skylar’s story, but she knows much more about cheating husbands than I do.

“She shouldn’t have fallen for a married man,” Skylar says.

“But Skylar, we don’t know for sure he’s married.”

“Trust me. He’s married. And he’s a cheater.”

She’s made up her mind. It’s no use arguing. It’s her story, not mine.

Skylar tries the car’s door. It’s locked. She peers in the window again. “That’s the latest iPhone, and she’s left it in plain sight. They cost a fortune. I want one for my birthday, but I might as well ask for a trip to the moon.”

We stare longingly at the phone and purse. All our answers are a few inches away on the other side of a closed window. For a second, I think about picking up a stone and smashing the glass. I have a feeling Skylar’s thinking the same thing. But neither of us does it.

“Why did she run into the woods?” I ask. “Why didn’t she just drive home?”

“She probably expected him to come after her,” Skylar says. “They’d make up, and everything would be fine. If she drove home, it would be the end of it. Women do that a lot in movies. Sometimes it works—but not always.”

I look at the woods, dark and still on the other side of the field. Crows call. A breeze moves through the weeds like waves. I think of the dead deer and the bullet holes in the Private Property sign. I think of Carter and Jason and the drugs. In the movies Skylar mentioned, the woman who runs into the woods usually turns up dead. All of a sudden I’m sure the woman in the flowered dress is not coming back.

Skylar reads my mind. “You think something’s wrong.”

“Don’t you?”

“You’re the one who gets feelings about things.” She stares across the field. A cloud drifts in front of the sun and the woods darken. The wind makes bigger waves in the weeds. “She’s probably walking to town along the railroad tracks right now. She’ll call the man and they’ll make up.”

“How can she call him?” I ask. “She didn’t take her phone.”

“There’s a pay phone at the Food Lion.”

“Except she left her purse in the car.”

“Stop worrying, Abbi,” Skylar says. “We’ll come back tomorrow and her car will be gone and you’ll feel silly for thinking the worst.”

Skylar starts walking toward the tree house. No matter what she says, I still have a bad feeling about the woman in the flowered dress. The woods—she shouldn’t have gone there. She should have gotten in her car and driven home where she’d be safe.