Page 27 of We Are All Guilty Here

Gerald took the car keys out of his pocket. “Hannah’s home.”

Emmy knew he was dismissing her. She watched him climb behind the wheel. She waited until the cruiser was down the street before she put her head in her hands. Her skin felt gritty. Exhaustion finally caught up with her. Fear gripped every muscle in her body.

Nothing that Jack had told her pointed to anything but trouble for Cheyenne and Madison. The drugs and sex were excruciating to learn about, but the girls hadn’t stumbled into those things on their own. Someone had led them there. Someone had groomed them, tricked them out, put them in jeopardy, all without their parents even noticing.

The chilling fact was that Ruth and Felix were very involved in their daughter’s life. Hannah and Paul were so wrapped up in Madison’s daily dramas that it was almost claustrophobic. Both sets of parents had tried their best. Done their best. Loved their girls. Listened to them. Cherished them. Tried to protect them.

And they had still been stolen away.

Emmy forced her legs to move, her feet to walk down the street. She took a left. Then a right. Then she was standing in front of Hannah’s house.

Red brick ranch. Crisp sage green trim. Carport on the right-hand side.

Emmy had helped pick out the color for the trim. She had gone with Hannah to buy the Jeep in the driveway. She had pushed Hannah into accepting Paul’s invitation for a first date. She had been standing with Hannah in the bathroom when they both looked down at the pee stick that told Hannah she was pregnant with Davey.

Cotton swelled into her throat. Emmy had to open her mouth to breathe. She touched her fingers lightly to the hood of the Jeep as she passed. The metal was hot. Hannah had only recently gotten home. Paul’s Honda was nowhere to be seen. She assumed he was out combing the streets, shouting Madison’s name, desperate to have his child back.

Hannah opened the door before Emmy could knock.

“We haven’t found them,” Emmy said.

She watched the last bit of hope drain from Hannah’s expression. Then Hannah collapsed into her arms, wailing in grief. Emmy had to hold her up so that she didn’t fall down. Tears filled her own eyes, because this was awful, and they both knew that there wasn’t going to be a happy ending. They clung to each other in a way they hadn’t since they were children.

In the long history of their friendship, there had been heartache and tears, but nothing like this. Hannah started to tremble from the weight of it. Her sobs had a keening quality. The sound was like a razor flaying open Emmy’s heart. She closed her eyes and only saw Madison. Not on the couch eating a Pop-Tart or rolling her eyes as she moved around the kitchen or even standing under the oak tree. She was waiting for Emmy at the top of the hill in front of the bleachers. Lips pursed. Hand clutching her phone. Eyes anxious. Ready to confide. Ready to share.

Not now.

“Emmy,” Hannah moaned. “Emmy, what am I going to do?”

Emmy tried to swallow. The cotton in her throat turned to glass. She remembered her father’s words—the way you help her is to keep your head down and do your job.

“Hannah.” Emmy gripped Hannah’s arms in her hands. The sight of her tear-stained, swollen face was almost too much to bear. “Think really hard. Was anyone hanging around Madison? Making her uncomfortable? Looking at her weird, or—”

“No,” Hannah said. “I would’ve told you. You know I would’ve told you.”

“Okay.” Emmy knew she was right. “What about her laptop?”

“I already tried to get in, but I couldn’t guess the password.”

“Okay,” Emmy repeated, her heart shaking as she tried to think of next steps. “What about money?”

“Her allowance?”

“Did she seem to have more money than you would expect her to?”

“Money?” Hannah’s head started to shake back and forth. “No, she was always begging me for cash. Why are you asking about money?”

“Never mind,” Emmy said. “I need to search Madison’s room.”

“Yes! I was just going through it!” Hannah excitedly grabbedEmmy’s hand, pulling her toward the back of the house. Emmy nearly stumbled on the rug in the living room. The house had belonged to Hannah’s mother. She had grown up here, dragged Emmy back to her room a thousand times before to tell her secrets or commiserate about boys or get away from her mother.

But never anything like this.

“I’ve already gone through everything, but you’re better at this.” Hannah turned the corner into Madison’s room. “You take that side. I’ll go over this side again. Maybe I missed something. She could’ve left a note or a clue. You know how clever she is.”

Emmy didn’t have the heart to tell her that she should’ve stayed out of the room. Hannah hadn’t searched so much as thrown clothes out of drawers and frantically thumbed through paperbacks that she’d dropped onto the floor.

“Hannah.” Emmy tried to be gentle. “Maybe let me do this?”

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