“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Whitney said, and it wasn’t exactly a lie. She would never wish ill will on anyone. But there was certainly no love lost between her and Dr. Carter. There was a time when Dr. Carter was someone she trusted, confided in. He’d been her therapist when she was a teenager. That’s how she’d met Dan in the first place.

Her first appointment with Dr. Carter, her mom dropped her off in front of a large two-story white house, a large porch wrapping around it.

“Are you sure this is right?” Whitney asked her mother.

She nodded. “Yeah, he said his office is in his home.”

So Whitney hopped out of her mom’s car and headed up the front porch stairs. Then she knocked on the door.

When it opened, a young man stood there. Whitney instantly noticed how good-looking he was. Brown hair, blue eyes, tanned skin, dimpled smile.

“Um...” she stammered, staring down at her tennis shoes. She wished she’d worn something cuter than the jeans and T-shirt she had on. At least she’d had the forethought to wear her hair down, put on some lip gloss. Smoothing down her hair, she forced a wobbly smile. “I’m...um...here to see Dr. Carter?” She hadn’t meant it to come out like a question.

But the boy smiled, and her cheeks heated up. “Sure. I’ll take you to his office.”

Whitney took a step forward, but the boy stepped out and they bumped into one another. Giggling, she stepped back. So did he.

“My dad’s office is actually back this way.” He pointed toward the side yard.

“Oh.” She bit her lip. “You’re Dr. Carter’s son?”

“Dan.”

“Hi, Dan.” She smiled, her cheeks warming. “I’m Whitney.”

He guided her into the side yard and through the back to a guesthouse turned office, and he showed her how to access it the next time she came. She was a little bummed that he’d shown her. She’d been hoping to run into him next time.

“Mom didn’t mention anything about Amelia,” Dan said now.

“Okay.” Whitney drew in a breath, her mind already reeling again with ideas. Possibilities.

“What’s going on?”

Whitney explained the situation quickly—just the bare bones.

“And you think she might have run away?” he asked when she finished.

“I don’t know,” Whitney said honestly. “Everyone keeps saying she’s probably just staying late at her friend’s and she’ll come home any minute, but I have a weird feeling in my gut.”

“You and your weird feelings,” he joked.