WHITNEY STOOD IN the center of the cemetery, a ghost lingering over the gravestones. She watched the girls’ backs as they retreated. Then she glanced down at her phone and logged in to the Find My Friends app. Amelia’s picture appeared on the map, moving away from her. Relief flowed through her chest. She lowered the phone, still holding it in her palm, its existence tethering her to Amelia.

Red jacket.

If not for that text, she never would’ve let Amelia leave. Even though a lot had changed in the past couple of days, she trusted her daughter. She had no other choice than to believe in their strong connection.

Lauren had the power to take Whitney down. To destroy her life.

But if Amelia was on her side, there was still hope.

Staring down at Millie’s name, she drew in a ragged breath. She’d come here many times, but never knew what to say. Other people would stand at their loved ones’ gravesites, spilling all the words. But Whitney didn’t know how to talk to a piece of granite. Dirt. Grass. Millie wasn’t here. She’d just be talking to the air. All around her it was quiet and still. It seemed odd to think of Millie here. Millie, who had always been so full of life, in this place of death.

Shivering, Whitney turned away, hurrying back to her car. First things first, she fished around in her glove compartment until she found a book of matches and a rag. Sitting down on the edge of the cement sidewalk that looped the parking lot, she struck one of the matches, watching the flame dance in front of her eyes. Then she picked up the diary. When Lauren had first handed it to her, she’d been curious about the contents, wondering what Millie had written about her.

But reading it wasn’t an option. Not now.

Besides, Millie was gone.

Buried. Dead. And that’s where Whitney would leave her.

Holding the match to the bottom right corner of the diary, she watched the flames lick up the thick paper covers and move quickly to the pages inside. As heat licked the tip of her fingers, she dropped the journal onto the cement, allowing it to burn down. As it faded to ashes, she thought about Lauren’s words.

Whitney was glad she hadn’t read the journal. She hated thinking that Millie might have said mean things about her. They were best friends. They loved each other. That was what Whitney wanted to remember.

Afterward, she went to her car, pulled out her phone.

Notifications lit up the screen.

Natalie.

Dan.

Her mom.

McAvoy.

They’d all been calling. Texting. Messaging.

She called Natalie first.

“Whitney! Oh, thank God. I was so worried. Where have you been?” Natalie’s words burst out the minute she answered.