He takes me by surprise. What’s my bike got to do with anything? It must be a trick question, the kind teachers ask when they already know the answer.

My legs start to itch. At first I think it’s just nerves, but then I realize it’s poison ivy. I’ve had it often enough to recognize its horrible, impossible-to-ignore itch. I must have run through a patch of it in the woods.

I’m actually tempted to tell him that my bike was stolen. But he’s the detective with the mind-reading eyes. He’ll know I’m lying.

“It’s at the end of Marie Drive,” I whisper. “In some weeds.”

“Why did you leave it there?”

My voice drops so low, I have to repeat my answer. “Because Skylar and I followed Jason and Carter into the woods.”

“Just to clarify, please state the boys’ last names.”

“Jason Dobbs and Carter Myers,” I say in a small voice. Even though I still don’t much like Jason, I hate telling on him.

“Jason Dobbs and Carter Myers,” he repeats. “How do you know them?”

“We go to the same middle school. Skylar and I don’t have any classes with them, but everybody knows who they are.”

Detective Klein nods. “Even I know who they are.” He looks at me hard. “It’s difficult to imagine you two hanging out with those boys.”

“We don’t! They were everywhere we went this summer, acting tough and mean.”

“So why did you follow them into the woods?” His voice is level, his face blank, but I know he’s angry.

“Skylar thought Jason was holding things back, like he probably knew where Ms. Sullivan’s phone was.” I look at him. “Skylar said we’d get a reward for telling the police. And you’d see we weren’t just kids playing detective.”

I lean toward him, desperate now. “If I tell you everything that happened in the woods, will you promise not to tell my mother?”

“That’s exactly what Skylar asked.” Those eyes of his look into mine, and I shut them for a second so he won’t see how scared I am.

“This is what I told Skylar,” he says. “As long as you girls obey your mothers and stay in the boundaries they’ve established, I’ll keep whatever you tell me to myself. But—if I, or any other police officer, find you somewhere you should not be, the deal is off. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” The rest of the story tumbles out. The trailer, the stripped car, Paul, the drugs, the dog, Ms. Sullivan, the railroad bridge. The whole horrible story—except where Jason is.

I take a deep breath. I feel like I’m choking to death and can barely go on talking. “Jason and Carter saw Paul kill Ms. Sullivan. Paul thought she was after his drugs. So he—so he—”