“Wait.” Detective Klein stares at Skylar. “You told Mr. Boyce what you saw, even though you thought he might have killed Ms. Sullivan?”

Skylar’s face droops like she might cry. “He was our favorite teacher. We loved him. Everybody does. We didn’t know then that he was the man in the SUV.”

“I’m confused. Help me out here.” Detective Klein gives us that piercing look again. “What makes you think Mr. Boyce killed Ms. Sullivan?”

“He has an SUV just like the one we saw on Marie Drive. He had the art book we saw in her car. And—” Skylar pauses a second. “He told us not to show you the pictures and not to bother you with a lot of kid detective stuff.”

“What pictures?”

“The ones on my phone. They’re not very good, but you can see the license plates on both cars.”

Detective Klein holds out his hand. “Give me the phone, please.”

I scroll to the folder of pictures and hand him the phone.

He clicks on the icon and looks at me. “You must have given me the wrong folder. This one is empty.”

I take the phone. He’s right. The pictures and videos are gone.

Skylar leans over and stares at the screen. “He must have deleted them,” she whispers.

“No,” I say. “My phone saves them for a few weeks before they get permanently deleted. You know, in case you change your mind.” While I talk, I’m clicking on the menu, looking for the trash icon. I open it. All I see is text: No Images. Your library is empty.

“He’s erased everything,” Skylar says. “Every single picture you ever took is gone.”

Detective Klein says, “Don’t worry. We can get them back. They’re still in the Cloud.”

“My iCloud storage is full and Mom can’t afford more.” I start crying again.

Detective Klein shoves a box of tissues toward me and I take one. “I’ll keep the phone for a while,” he says. “Maybe there’s a way to get the pictures back.”

He puts my phone into a plastic bag. I write my name and address on a label. I watch him stick it on the bag. I blow my nose and stop crying. I’m scared to ask how long the police will keep my phone.

Detective Klein straightens a pile of papers on his desk. “Do you by any chance remember the license plate number of the SUV? Or the make and model?”

Skylar is a genius at remembering numbers. “Maryland 9PS4227. It was a Ford, but I don’t know the model or the year.”

“Thank you,” he says. “That should be helpful.”

He leans back in his chair and studies us with his X-ray eyes. I’m hoping this is all, and we can go now.