“Yes, Ms. McAlister, they’re old yearbooks. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just have a couple of questions, then you can go.”

I sat in amazement. “You mean, I’m not in trouble?”

“Should you be?” He set a piercing gaze on me, one I knew would come in handy if a Riley High student was ever suspected of international espionage.

“Oh, no,” I said with a light giggle, trying my best to sound utterly innocent of any wrongdoing. Like, say, skipping. He must not know yet. “I was just kidding.”

He eyed me momentarily before asking, “What do you know about that new kid, Jared Kovach?”

No way. Why on earth was he asking me about Jared? “Oh, Jared? Well, not much, I’m afraid. I just met him a couple of days ago.”

“I see. I saw you talking to him. It seemed like you two were friends.”

“Well, we are. I mean—”

“Do you know his parents?”

“Not personally. Is he in some kind of trouble?”

His gaze slid surreptitiously to the yearbook he’d slammed shut before returning to me. “He hasn’t attended a single class since the day he arrived. I just thought maybe you knew something about his situation.”

“His situation?”

“I can’t get hold of his parents. The number he gave has been disconnected.”

“Oh, right.” I was trying desperately to stay one step ahead of him, but it was hard to outrun a bear, especially on uneven ground. I considered doing the fetal-position thing and playing like a rock, but he might think that odd. “From what I understand, his parents are having some problems.”

“What kind of problems?” he asked, clearly intrigued.

“Mr. Davis, I’m not sure I should be answering for Jared.”

“I can assure you, Ms. McAlister, anything you say will be held in the strictest confidence.”

“I understand, but I just don’t know that much. I mean, all he said was that his parents were having problems and—” I tried to think up an excuse for his absences, any excuse. “—and they were trying to work things out, and he just wanted to be with them. That’s probably why he’s been absent.”

I couldn’t tell if Mr. Davis was biting or not. He tapped a pen on his desk and sized me up with a hard stare. Without warning, he shot from his chair and held out a hand. “Thank you for coming in, Ms. McAlister.”

I stood and watched his huge hand swallow mine in a firm shake. “No problem.” With as much tact as I could muster, I looked down at the yearbook then back.

Got it. 1977.

“You can get a pass back to class from Connie.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

His smile held more suspicion than sincerity. “You do that.”

As I left the office, I wondered how I was going to break the news to Glitch and Brooklyn that we would be skipping again today.

ELLIOT

“So this is the library.” Glitch turned in a full circle, taking in the Riley’s Switch Public Library, recently remodeled and modernized. Softly muted colors added to its quiet ambience. “Nice.”

“Yes,” Brooklyn said in a teasing tone, “and they have books, too. They’re made of paper with words inside and you read them.”

He turned to her in disbelief. “Surely you jest.”

She snorted and socked him on the arm for good measure. He rubbed his shoulder and smiled to himself, clearly enjoying the attention.

“Is it just me,” Brooklyn said, gazing thoughtfully out the glass doors, “or is that reporter guy following us?”

We turned back for a better look. Sure enough, a white van with the Tourist Channel’s blue logo sat idling out front.

“I’ve been seeing that van a lot lately,” I said, my suspicions growing.

Before we could discuss that fact further, my grandmother’s best friend, Betty Jo, spied us from behind the circulation desk and brightened.

“Okay, guys,” I said in a low tone as Betty Jo headed toward us, her large body lumbering across the thick carpet, “remember the plan.”

“Got it,” Glitch said, lowering his voice to match mine. “Should we synchronize our watches?”

“Hi, Betty Jo.” I couldn’t help a quick kick to Glitch’s ankle. He cursed under his breath as Betty Jo pulled me into a hug.

“How have you been, precious?” Before I could answer, she asked, “Are you out of school?”

“Well, not especially,” I hedged, uncomfortable with lying to my grandmother’s very best friend, the woman who helped both my grandparents through the roughest time in their lives, my parents’ disappearance. “We’re doing research for a school project.”

“Oh, wonderful. How can I help?” She clasped her hands in a prayer position, ever ready, willing, and able to help on school projects.

“Does the library keep old copies of the Riley High yearbooks?” Please, oh please, oh please, oh—

“Sure does.”

Yes!

“We have them all. They’re in the special collections area. I’ll get the key.”

“Thanks so much,” I said with an excited smile.

“Not at all, darling.” We looked on as Betty Jo circled the desk to retrieve the key.

“I wish I had someone who thought of me as a precious or a darling,” Glitch said almost dreamily.