I meet his eyes, which are cloud gray. “Some kids go inward, but really they’re acting out secretly. Cutting or using drugs. Engaging in risky sexual behavior.”

“No.” His flinch is almost microscopic, but I’ve seen it. “Nothing like that. She’s a good kid.”

“I’m not suggesting that your daughter’s not a good person, Mr. Curtis, or that she’s done anything wrong.”

“Teenagers can be hard to read.” Will steps in.

“Sometimes they’re struggling and no one knows,” I add. “They’re good at hiding what they feel.”

“I’m not with her as much as I used to be,” Troy says. “But Emily would have noticed if something was really troubling Cameron.”

“Tell me a little about the adoption,” I say, changing course.

“We used an agency in Sacramento, Catholic Family Charities. I believe they’re still there.”

I jot down the name in the notebook I’m carrying. “Open or closed adoption?”

“Closed. Why do you ask?”

“Just thinking out loud. It’s not always the case, but some kids never get over the pain of being rejected. Abandoned by their first family. That pain can lead to certain types of behaviors and risks.”

“I already told you, nothing like that.”

“Did the agency reveal anything at all to you about her birth family?”

“Very little. We knew they had another child, quite a bit older. Also that there was some history of drug abuse and incarceration.”

“That didn’t scare you?”

“A little, I guess. Emily had very clear ideas of wanting to do some good, of helping where help is most needed.” His gaze narrows and suddenly he’s on the defensive. “Are you saying we did something wrong?”

“Not at all, I’m just laying out a few things to consider. Tell me, were there any older men in Cameron’s life that might have shown a particular interest in her? A family friend, perhaps, or a teacher?”

“Not that I can think of off the top of my head.”

“Steve Gonzales,” Emily says from the base of the floating staircase. “Her English teacher.” She’s approached us without making a sound.

(seventeen)

It’s one thing to see Emily Hague as Heidi Barrows in her sitcom Soho Girls, her jokes and clothes and haircut known all over the world, and another to be with her in her living room in the middle of an all-too-real tragedy. She’s more beautiful than any camera has been able to capture, and sad in a way that’s far too familiar. For a brief moment, I wonder if I’m going to be able to handle being here, but then the deeper objective takes over.

I stand up. “I’m Anna Hart, a new agent on Cameron’s case. I hope we didn’t wake you.”