We laugh because we’ve been having this conversation since third grade. Skylar usually ends up being the one to pick.

“Let’s ride our bikes to Marie Drive and see if the car’s still there,” she says.

When I hesitate, she says, “Come on, Abbi. I know you want to.”

She’s right. I’ve been worrying about the car. If it’s gone, I’ll know the woman came back and drove away and I can stop worrying about her.

Keeping an eye out for Jason and Carter, we pedal down Marie Drive.

Gnats swarm around my face. Sweat runs down my back. If we’d gone to the pool, we’d be up to our chins in water now. Jonathon might be showing off on the diving board. Mr. Boyce might be at the wading pool with Andy. Maybe Mrs. Boyce stayed home to clean the house or something, and Skylar and I could talk to him without her frowning at us and making him leave early.

We come to the end of Marie Drive without seeing Jason or Carter. But the gray car is still where the woman left it. Parked slightly crooked, its front tires off the road, dappled by the shade of our tree.

The sight of it sends a shiver up my spine. Why hasn’t she come back for it?

Skylar grabs my arm. “Somebody broke the side window.”

We go closer, pedaling slowly, cautiously. Bright bits of safety glass glitter in the weeds. We lay our bikes down and peer through the broken window. More safety glass is scattered across the seat and the dashboard. The phone is gone. So is the purse.

“Jason and Carter,” Skylar mutters. “What do you want to bet?”

I take pictures of the broken window and the bits of glass. My heart thumps. I’m collecting evidence of a real crime now.

“What if this is Ms. Sullivan’s car?” Skylar asks.

“What?” I stare at her. “No way. She couldn’t possibly be the woman who owns this car. Ms. Sullivan wouldn’t—”

“How can there be two missing women in Evansburg at the same time, but we only hear about one on the news?”

“Maybe the woman who owns this car isn’t missing.”

“Then where is she?” Skylar asks. “Why is her car still here?”

“Oh, my God.” I sit down in the dust beside the car. I don’t want it to belong to Ms. Sullivan. I don’t want her to be the woman who met a man here. I don’t want her to be the woman in the flowered sundress who went into the woods and never came back.

“But the man,” I whisper. “Who was the man in the SUV?”

“Some loser who didn’t care what happened to her,” Skylar says. “A cheater like my dad.”

“What should we do?”

“What do you mean? What can we do?”

“Tell the police where her car is?”