“I didn’t, I already told you,” I said, trying hard not to yell. I knew how this worked, I had to be calm and give them the facts. “I wouldn’t even know how to drive a motorboat. Besides, I was here Friday evening, and all Friday night, right up until I went to Sam’s.”

“Alone.” Stevens seemed to make a point of saying this as a statement, not a question, and one I was certain he didn’t believe.

“Yes, alone. Talk to the people in the building. Ask my landlord downstairs. I got here at four on Friday, stopped by to pick up some cookies she’d made and came right up. I was on the phone with the cable company for ages, and had a pizza delivered at six. I’ll give you the receipt and you can see for yourselves. My car never moved, neither did my cell. Check them. Check it all. I’ve got nothing to hide.” Neither Heron nor Stevens responded, and when the silence became unbearable again, this time I got up and gestured to the door. “I didn’t hurt him, so unless you’re going to arrest me, I’d like you to leave and start searching for him again.”

They both stood slowly, and when they got to the front door, Heron turned around. “I’m here if you need to talk,” she said, and I bit down hard on my tongue to stop myself from screaming, “No thanks, you two-faced bitch.”

Once they’d driven off, my fury turned to despair as any remaining hope disintegrated around me. Jack, Gordon or whatever his name was, was never coming back. Not only was I left holding a mess of grief and rage, not only would my questions remain unanswered and gnawing away at my core, but now the cops thought I had something to do with Jack’s disappearance. I didn’t have my parents’ financial backing now, couldn’t afford to lawyer up if they arrested me for something that, this time, I hadn’t done.

I couldn’t live this way. I wouldn’t. I needed to know the truth. All of it. Who Jack was, why he’d lied and, most of all, if any of what we’d had was real.

I grabbed my phone and plugged in Newdale, Maine. It was the only clue, never mind how small, and it was a little over a nine-hour drive from Brookmount, more if I hit traffic. No way would my temperamental Chevrolet make it that far, and the last thing I needed was to break down and end up stranded by the side of the road. I could fly, but that wasn’t cheap, and I wanted to travel without leaving a trail for the cops to follow in case it raised their absurd suspicions.