Whitney’s head swung back and forth, desperate to see over the mom’s head. But she held her ground. The door was almost all the way closed now.

“Go back to bed,” the woman said, right before the door closed completely.

But then it immediately swung back open. “No, Mom, it’s fine.”

Whitney’s gaze skated upward at the incredibly tall, lanky boy filling the doorway. He was so tall his head almost reached the top of the doorframe. His thick curly hair fell into his face. He ran a hand through it, brushing it back, revealing bloodshot eyes. And he was definitely the boy from the picture.

“You’re Amelia’s mom?” He looked Whitney up and down.

“Yeah,” she said. “Do you know where she is?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t heard from her all weekend.” Frowning, he hung his head. His expression was one of grave concern. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you have any idea where she might be?” Whitney asked, desperate.

“He already told the police everything he knows, okay?” The mom was back again, shoving at her son and attempting to close the door.

“I’d look into that friend of hers,” the boy said quickly.

Whitney’s heart hammered in her ears. “Lauren?”

He nodded. “Something isn’t right with her.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You need to leave us alone now.” The mother slammed the door in Whitney’s face before she could ask what the boy’s name was.

She flinched at the force of it. For a moment, she waited just in case it popped open again. But it didn’t. Not this time.

Groaning, she nearly flung herself against it and started pounding again. But she stopped herself. There was no way that mom was going to let her son say anything else. Whitney thought about the boy’s kind eyes and concerned expression.

Amelia wasn’t here.

This boy didn’t hold the answers to Amelia’s whereabouts. Lauren did.

Something isn’t right with her.

Whitney shivered, a memory from the first time Lauren spent the night flashing in her mind.

Whitney had been having that recurring dream where she was a high school student, lying out in the grass during lunch with her best friend. They were staring up through the branches of the tree above them, giggling and chatting about classes and boys, when suddenly Whitney had this awful feeling like she forgot something. Something important. Something that made her feel panicky. As Whitney’s friend droned on, she racked her brain, trying to place what it was.

She shot upward.

Amelia.

She’d forgotten about her daughter. Left her alone to come to school. What kind of mom was she?

When she mentioned it, her friend stared at her like she’d lost her mind.

“You don’t have a daughter,” she laughed.

“Yes, I do,” she insisted.

Didn’t she?