“I will.” After hanging up, she tucked her phone into the back pocket of her jeans and stood.

“She’s not with Dan?” Natalie asked.

Whitney shook her head. “What’s going on?”

Natalie took a few steps forward, then held up her phone, the face turned toward Whitney. “Check this out. Kayla screenshotted this from Snapchat a few weeks ago.”

Whitney squinted, moved closer. When she couldn’t get a good look, she took the phone from Natalie, inspecting the photo on the screen. It was of a good-looking guy, late teens or early twenties—it was hard to tell. At first, Whitney couldn’t figure out what this had to do with anything. But then her gaze slid over the cute guy’s shoulder and she saw her. Amelia and a boy Whitney had never seen before. Sitting on a bench, heads close together, beers in their laps. Her stomach twisted.

“Where was this taken?”

Natalie shrugged. “Kayla doesn’t know. One of her other friends posted it and Kayla screenshotted it because she thought the guy in the front of the picture was hot. Wanted to find out who he was.” Natalie smirked. “Anyway, I called her a few minutes ago and told her what was going on. And she sent me this.”

Whitney slid her thumb and forefinger apart on the screen to zoom in. “Does Kayla know who that guy is that Amelia’s with?”

“No, I was hoping you’d know him. Do you think maybe that’s why she stayed out late? ’Cause she’s hanging out with this boy?”

“Maybe. I have no idea who he is.”

“Okay. I’ll text Kayla and have her ask around. See if she can get any information on this boy.”

Something about the photo nagged at Whitney. Like a word on the tip of her tongue. There was a clue in here, but she couldn’t pinpoint it.

“Thanks.” She handed the phone back to Natalie so she could send Kayla the text. “I wonder if Amelia has any other pictures of this guy. Or maybe she follows him on social media.”

Hurrying out of the room, she made her way to the computer, and wiggled the mouse. The screen lit up, roaring to life. Whitney opened up Facebook and went to Amelia’s page. It had been months since she posted anything.

Facebook’s for old people, Amelia repeatedly said.

Still, Whitney clicked on her friends list and typed “Lauren” in the search bar. No one came up. Her stomach sank. If only she knew a last name. Next, she tried “Phil,” and then “Lopez.” No luck there either.

She scrolled through Amelia’s page, looking at all the comments, hoping to see Lauren’s face. A couple of the comments turned her stomach. Rude, on the cusp of vulgar. Why did kids talk like that? Didn’t they know their parents, employers, teachers, could see what they posted?