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  “No, I’m afraid not. And you’ve called all her friends? Any likely place where she might be hanging out?”

  “Yes, Officer,” Dad said. He was losing his struggle to remain patient. “I told you that on the phone.”

  Mom gave Dad a Shut up and don’t make the policeman mad look, which Dad ignored.

  “When did you realize Abigail was missing?”

  I spoke up.

  “Abby’s usually here when I get home from school,” I told him. “But when I got home —”

  “What time was that?” Officer Carozza asked.

  “About twenty past three,” I said. “Well, she wasn’t here. I didn’t freak out at first — I thought maybe she’d stayed after school and no one told me, because, like no one ever tells me anything, but when Mom called me at five to say she was on the way home, she didn’t know about Abby either.”

  “To be honest, Officer, I was angry with her at first, because she’s supposed to be grounded,” Mom said.

  “Grounded? So Abby was in trouble? Did you fight with her?”

  “She got a D on her math test,” Mom said. “Math is one of her best subjects. It’s not like her to do so badly.”

  “Abby is an honor student,” Dad bragged. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to talk about how smart Abby is, even when she might be off with some crazy person.

  “So you’ve noticed some slippage in her grades recently?” Officer Carozza asked.

  “I guess you could say that. Even more than we’d realized, Rick,” Mom said. “I just found a science test from eight weeks ago where she’d gotten a C-minus, hidden in the back of her closet.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Dad said. He sounded really mad. If Abby were to walk in the door then, I’m not sure if he would have been more relieved to see her home or mad about the science test.

  “We thought it was because she was spending too much time chatting with her friends on her computer while she was supposed to be doing homework,” Mom explained. “So last night we took her laptop away.”

  It was like suddenly someone turned on a switch inside Officer Carozza as he looked up from his notes.

  “Does Abby spend a lot of time online?”

  “Quite a bit, yes,” Mom said. “Enough that I think it was starting to affect her grades, at least.”

  “Do you know what sites she was on? Did she have a MySpace or Facebook profile?”

  “She definitely has a Facebook,” I said. “Not MySpace, I don’t think. But, Mom, tell him about the notebooks.”

  “When Abby went to school this morning she left what looks like most of her schoolbooks on her desk,” Mom said. “But Lily says her backpack looked full, so … maybe … could she have been planning to go?”

  “Kate, you can’t possibly believe that Abby would be stupid and irresponsible enough to run away —”

  “Mr. Johnston, if she’s been engaging with an Internet predator, then nothing would surprise me,” Officer Carozza said. “I’m not saying that’s the case here, but whenever a kid has been active online we have to consider the possibility.”

  “Internet predator?” Dad said, his face turning gray. “Abby? No …”

  “She wrote some guy’s name in all her notebooks,” I blurted out, since no one else seemed to be telling Officer Carozza this and it seemed kinda like something he should know. “Look here.”

  I opened her science notebook to the first of the Luke Redmond doodles, then turned a few pages for him so he could see that she had been carried away enough about the guy to experiment with “Abby Redmond” signatures. Yuck.

  “It’s like this in her other notebooks, too.”

  Officer Carozza stood up.

  “I’m going to place a call to our Youth Division, and get one of our detectives out here as soon as possible. Did you say you had Abby’s computer?”

  “Yes,” Mom said. “I’ve got it hidden up in my closet.”

  “We’ll want to take that down to headquarters and get our forensic guys on it to see what sites Abby’s been on and who she’s been talking to. Do you know her passwords?”

  “I … no. We don’t,” Mom said. “Is that a problem?”

  “It depends on the site,” Officer Carozza said. “Let’s just go one step at a time.”

  Mom ran upstairs to get Abby’s laptop. Dad looked at me across the table and said, “Lily, I want you to write down the password to every single Internet account you have right now.”

  It was so unfair.

  “What? Just because there’s some remote possibility that Abby might have been stupid enough to run off with some freak, you’re going to start snooping through my e-mails?”

  “We recommend that all parents have their kids’ passwords. Just in case,” said Officer Carozza. “It’s a wild world out there.”

  “Yeah, I know, we’ve been having the Internet Safety talk at school every year since, like, fourth grade or something. But I’m not like Abby. I only talk to my friends.”

  He just gave me this Yeah, right, I’ve heard that one before look, as Mom came into the kitchen with Abby’s laptop. She turned it on, but as soon as it booted up, instead of the usual emo band picture, there was a password screen.

  “Since when has Abby had a password to get into her computer?” Mom asked. “I’m sure she never used to have one — did she, Rick?”

  Dad stared at the screen helplessly, shaking his head.

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Johnston. The forensic team won’t have any trouble getting what we need off here, password or no password. That’s what they do.”

  He took out a plastic bag and put Abby’s laptop in it, and got my dad to sign something.

  “I’ll get this down to the computer forensic guys. I’m not sure what their caseload’s like at the moment. It might take them a little while to get to it. But it’ll definitely give us some clues about what we’re dealing with here. In the meantime, let us know if you hear anything. I also want to get a list from you, Mrs. Johnston, of the names and phone numbers of Abby’s close friends. I’ll have the officers on the next shift set up appointments for them to be interviewed at their homes first thing in the morning before they go to school. And you’ll probably get a call from one of our Youth Division detectives later tonight.”

  “Officer, what are the chances …” Dad started to ask but then he covered his face with his hands.

  My heart felt like it was playing hopscotch while I waited to hear the policeman’s answer.

  “Mr. Johnston, we’ll do everything we can to bring Abby back home safely,” he said.

  Which told us absolutely zip about her chances.

  CHAPTER 14

  FAITH DECEMBER 7 11:30 P.M.

  OMG, Abby, where are you?

  I was just finishing my homework after getting home from stage crew when Mom called up to me saying that Mrs. Johnston was on the phone asking about Abby. I’d wondered where she was during gym, because she was on the bus this morning. She even sat next to me, which has been a touch-and-go thing lately. Some days she just smiles at me and then goes to sit by herself in an empty seat, like sitting by herself is better than sitting next to me, which really hurts, if you want to know the truth. I don’t know what’s going on with her. Well, obviously, I don’t know what’s going on with her, if she’s disappeared without saying a word to me about it. There was a time when we didn’t do anything without telling each other. And this … this is so … so major. It’s like I don’t know Abby anymore. How could she be so thoughtless?

  It’s almost midnight now and I can’t sleep. I’m trying to remember everything and anything I can think of that might help them find Abby. Mrs. Johnston called about eleven p.m. and said a policeman is coming tomorrow morning to interview me. I’m nervous because I’ve never, ever in my whole life been interviewed by the police before. I mean it’s not like I’ve done anything wrong, but still. It’s the police.

  Instead of lying here tossing and turning, looking at the glow-in-the-dark star
s on the ceiling (Abby always loved those), I get out of bed and find a notebook and a pen. I’m going to make a list.

  I think back to this morning when Abby got on the bus. I close my eyes and visualize her. What was she wearing? I remember thinking that she looked really pretty, like she’d made an effort. She’d put makeup on and everything, just like the first day of school. And she was wearing a cute sweater — green, I think, because it brought out that color in her eyes. Abby has those cool hazel eyes that change color depending on what she’s wearing.

  1. Wearing makeup. Green sweater. Jeans.

  What else? Okay, she sat next to me, which has been iffy recently, but I don’t think the police want to hear about all the ups and downs of our friendship. They’d probably get all “typical adolescent girl stuff” on me. But then I think of something else:

  2. Seemed happier than she has recently.

  Because she did. Abby’s been such a … well, I hate to say it about my best friend, but I have to be honest here … downer since we started high school. But this morning she was, like, all bubbly and talkative and, oh, there’s another thing:

  3. She talked about her mysterious boyfriend, Church Retreat Guy.

  She said that things were going “really well” and maybe sometime Teddy and I could double-date with them. I got all excited because she’s been so secretive about the guy. I said, “Oh, Abs, that would be so cool. I’m dying to meet him!”

  I wonder if she’s run away to meet him somewhere. But that would be so unlike Abby. It’s so dangerous and stupid. She’s way too smart for that. And she would have told me. I can’t believe she would do something that major without telling me.

  But she has done something without telling me. She’s disappeared, without telling anyone, not even me, where she’s gone. Why, Abby? Why? Couldn’t you have trusted me?

  Then I remember how angry Abby was when I told Dad about her fainting at the auditions. How even though she said she forgave me, things weren’t quite the same between us after that.

  I only did it because I was worried about you, Abby. Because you’re my best friend. Because I care.

  What else did we talk about? I’m trying to remember every word in case there is a hidden clue, but it was morning and I’m not fully functional till halfway through first period. Oh, yes —

  4. Backpack was heavy.

  I only noticed because when she sat down next to me she accidentally half put it on my leg and I made a joke about her having rocks in it. She said she had both her math and science books in it because she was studying for tests. I’m such an idiot! I should have realized she was lying about the math test because we both have Mr. Evans and we just had a test. There isn’t another one till right before Christmas break. I mean, Abby’s a good student and all, but even she doesn’t start studying this far out. If only I’d realized.

  But then what would I have done? Said, “Abs, you’re full of it? There’s no math test? What’s really in there?”

  Would she have told me the truth? Would I have been able to stop her? If I’d been a better friend, could I have kept her safe?

  Probably not. She probably would have just given me a dirty look and moved to another seat. Like I said, things have been kind of awkward between us recently. But I can’t help thinking that there must have been something I could have said or done or noticed that would have stopped her.

  I fall asleep with the light on and my face planted on the notepad, the thought running on a constant loop in my head that, somehow, I might have been able to keep my friend safe.

  CHAPTER 15

  LILY DECEMBER 8 12:30 A.M.

  I’m soooo tired. I’m tired of hearing the same questions over and over and over. Detective Larson from the Youth Division is here with Officer Gans. I had to tell them all the same stuff I told Officer Carozza. I don’t get it. Why can’t they just talk to each other or read each other’s notes or something?

  The same questions: What happened when you got home? Did you try calling her cell phone? Have you called her friends? Is Abby normally reliable? Have you noticed any change in her recently? Have her grades slipped at all? Does she spend a lot of time online?

  But then Detective Larson lobs out one we haven’t heard before:

  “Mr. and Mrs. Johnston, is Abby promiscuous?”

  I’m not sure what promiscuous means, but the question sure pisses Dad off. His face turns bright red and he half rises out of his chair, shouting, “How dare you!” before Mom puts her hand on his arm to push him back down and shut him up.

  “Detective, Abby has barely been on any dates,” Mom says. “She’s a good girl. She went on a church retreat last summer.”

  “And she is not promiscuous,” Dad growls, his arms crossed firmly across his chest.

  Okaay … So I’m guessing promiscuous means being all slutty and stuff. Nah. Not Abby. She’s too busy being a boring nerd with no life. Wait. I don’t mean no life. Please let her have a life. Even if it is a boring, nerdy one.

  “And you fought the night before she left about … grades, was it?”

  “That’s right,” Mom says. She sounds as tired as I feel. “She brought down her math test for me to sign because she’d gotten a D. I know it might not sound like the end of the world, Detective, but if you knew Abby — math is one of her best subjects and she normally gets A’s and A-pluses. So for her to get a D, well …”

  “So her grades have been slipping. Have you noticed that Abby seemed less involved with the family recently?”

  “I haven’t noticed that,” Dad says.

  “Well, you wouldn’t,” I say. “You’re never here.”

  I see the detective’s pen move across his pad. If my father had killer vision, I’d be seriously dead right now.

  Mom steps in to keep World War III from breaking out.

  “My husband started his own accounting firm a year ago, so he’s been working very long hours.” She smiles at the detective. “You know how it is.”

  He nods but keeps writing.

  “Abby was very angry last night. She said … she …”

  Mom puts her hand over her eyes.

  “She said she … hated me.”

  Her shoulders heave with suppressed sobs. Dad puts his arm around her and murmurs something I can’t hear.

  “Detective, is it my fault she’s gone?” Mom asks. “If anything happens to her, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “Of course it’s not your fault, Kate,” Dad says. “Don’t say that.”

  Mom thinks it’s her fault. Dad doesn’t seem to think it’s his fault, not at all. But deep down, in a place I don’t want to go, or let some police officer pry, I know it’s because of me, and I don’t know how I’m going to live in this family if something really bad happens to Abby.

  “Do you have a recent picture of Abby that I can have?” Detective Larson asks.

  “Yes,” Dad says. “I’ll get one.”

  He goes to print one off his computer, leaving Mom and me with the detective.

  “When I get back to headquarters, I’m going to enter Abby’s data into the NCIC computer system. That’s the FBI’s National Crime Information Center. We also have a special computer system provided to us by the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. I can scan the picture you give me into it and generate a flyer that will be distributed to all the departments in the area. We’ll also have our patrol officers check out the local parks and other teen hangouts.”

  “But, Detective,” Mom sniffs. “Abby’s not a hanger outer. She just … isn’t. It’s not her.”

  “Mrs. Johnston, we have to investigate all the possibilities, especially until we see what the forensic analysts find on Abby’s computer.”

  Dad comes back with, like, five pictures of Abby, as if he doesn’t get that this is for a picture on a milk carton, not a freaking modeling portfolio. Somehow, I don’t think being on America’s Next Top Model was ever part of Abby’s plan.

  “I wasn’t sure wh
ich one was best, so …”

  The detective takes all of them.

  “Great. We’ll figure out which one works for the poster. We’ll be interviewing Abby’s friends and trying to get a picture of what went on today” — he glances at his watch — “er … yesterday … and I’ll try to see if I can put some pressure on the forensic team to expedite the work on Abby’s computer. Unfortunately, they’ve got a big backlog, so we’re always fighting for priority.”

  He sees Dad open his mouth to argue but he raises his hand and continues. “Believe me, Mr. Johnston, we take missing minors seriously and we’ll do everything we can to bring Abby back home safely. In the meantime, you call me if you hear from her or if you think of anything else that might help with the investigation, okay?”

  Mom and Dad nod.

  The detective’s cell phone rings. “Larson … Yep … Good. I’ll be back soon.”

  He closes his cell and tells us that they’ve made arrangements to have officers interview Faith at six thirty tomorrow morning since she saw Abby after we did.

  “So early?” Mom says.

  “Every minute counts,” Detective Larson tells her.

  Mom looks like she’s about to crumple in on herself. I feel like I’m going to throw up, even though we never ate dinner and there’s not really anything in my stomach. And Dad … I don’t ever in a million years want to see that look on his face again.

  CHAPTER 16

  FAITH DECEMBER 8 5:45 A.M.

  Dad shakes me awake at five forty-five a.m. “Faith, honey, the police will be here at six thirty to talk to you about Abby,” he says. “Mom’s got coffee on in the kitchen.”

  I’m totally out of it, but I go take a shower to try to bring myself back into the land of the living. I just can’t believe this is happening. It’s like some really awful nightmare that I should be able to pinch myself and wake up from, except I am awake and it’s real. Abby’s still missing and I keep wondering over and over if I could have done something to stop this from happening.