“Please, can he stay?” she’d begged, and she’d clung to his arm with so much fear that they’d relented.

Abbi and I went upstairs. I stopped at the landing, waiting for her to catch up as she walked much slower so she could keep her eyes on Kate for as long as possible. Abbi watched her constantly, like she might disappear again if she let her out of her sight.

“Do you want to come in my room while we wait?” I asked.

She shook her head. I reached out and cupped her chin with my hands. “It’s going to be okay.” She forced a smile for my benefit before going into her room and shutting the door behind her. I wasn’t able to concentrate on anything. I gave up reading my novel after I realized I’d been rereading the same paragraph for over twenty minutes. I texted Caleb and Thad, but they were both working, so they didn’t text back. Finally, I lay down on the bed and fell asleep. Scott had woken me up ten minutes ago.

Kate still hadn’t told them what happened the day that she went missing. It had been five days, and they still had no idea what had happened to her or where she’d been all this time. “You should see how traumatized she is, Meredith. Even basic questions like ‘What did you eat?’ make her sob uncontrollably. If anyone moves too quickly, she flinches, and every loud sound makes her jump. You’d think we lived in the middle of New York City for as many times as she got freaked out by the noises. We spent most of the time waiting for her to gather her composure between questions.”

“How awful,” I said. “Did they let you try to talk to her?”

“Are you kidding?” He snorted. “Camille wouldn’t let me say anything. She wouldn’t even let me comfort her when she was upset. I just had to sit there because she didn’t want me to influence Kate in any way. It was actually pretty torturous.”

I moved toward him and gave him a hug. I rested my head against his chest. His heart thumped wildly despite the fact that he was standing still. While he held me, I rubbed his back, trying to help him relax.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered. “I can’t imagine how you feel right now.” One of the worst things you could do to someone in the midst of tragedy was to give them a cliché, because the intensity of the loss was too big. I’d heard it all after James died. Sometimes it was better to say nothing.

He pulled away, sinking into his leather office chair and running his hands through his hair. “If they try to push her at all, then she starts saying ‘You don’t understand’ over and over again or gibberish that makes no sense at all. She repeats things, too, and mumbles under her breath like she’s talking to someone. It’s so hard seeing her this way.” His voice caught in his throat.