The last time Lucas had sat outside a high school this early in the morning, he’d been attending it.

He glanced at the clock on his dash and sighed. He couldn’t believe how early kids had to get to school these days. He knew why: Aspen Falls had a limited number of buses and a limited number of bus drivers. Ensuring kids who required busing got to school meant staggered start times for the elementary, middle and high schools. And the high schoolers had gotten the short end of the stick with their 7:45 start time.

He sipped his coffee and adjusted the heat pumping out of the vents, dialing it down just a notch. He was getting warm, but it was easier to turn down the heat than to wrestle out of his jacket. Besides, he was getting out of the car any minute. Just as soon as he saw Lindsay Hopkins.

His gut tightened, and he reached for the extra phone sitting on his passenger seat.

He swiped the screen and pulled up the message that had caught his attention the night before.

He’d left Alaina’s and, after stopping for a few groceries, had gone home and started digging. He’d needed to, to get his mind off her.

And he’d found something almost immediately.

Noah’s texts had been wiped, and most of his social media had been, too. Lucas had looked at Noah’s Facebook account in the early days of the investigation–that was how he’d found Connor’s and Carmen’s names—but that account had looked abandoned. The last post Noah made had been almost a year earlier. This hadn’t surprised Lucas too much, as most teens were opting to use other social media platforms. Noah had SnapChat and Instagram on his phone, with profiles for both, but there was nothing visible on either app. Of course, SnapChat posts disappeared after twenty-four hours, so Lucas hadn’t expected to find much there unless he’d saved conversations. But Noah’s Instagram profile was empty, too. It looked as though he’d never posted a single thing.

Lucas had closed those apps and started looking through other more obscure ones, games and stuff, hoping there might be some clues.

Nothing.

Frustrated, he’d set it aside. He made a quick dinner and watched the Timberwolves game—hockey wasn’t on—and spent more time thinking about the heated kiss he’d shared with Alaina than the action on the court.

He’d picked up the phone after the game, intending to give it one more go-through before officially writing it off. This time when he opened Instagram, he poked around a little more. Found the Direct Message icon and clicked that.

And then froze.

Because there was one message there, a message dated five weeks earlier.

When Noah had still been alive.

He opened it.

I told him. I told him you and I talked. And that I was going to report his sorry ass. Thank you for giving me the courage to stand up to him. Thank you for being there for me when no one else was.

He looked at the sender’s account.

A single name. Lin.

He clicked through to the profile.

The profile picture was a pencil drawing of the scales of justice.

And the posts were all inspirational quotes. All about justice and revenge and facing fears and keeping strong.

There was one follower.

Noah.

Lucas didn’t find it hard to put two and two together. If he had to bet money, he would guess that the person behind the account was Lindsay Hopkins.

And that was why he was at school the next morning, bright and early, ready to intercept her before she made her way into the building.

The first students’ cars began arriving, pulling into the student parking lot. He knew from his years as a police officer that the only entrance unlocked in the morning was the main one, so at least he knew he was looking in the right place.

He hopped out of his car, zipping his jacket up to his chin and adjusting his hat. His gloves were already on.

He hurried to the entrance and staked out a position to the right of the door. A couple of kids eyed him curiously as they made their way past, but most ignored him, hurrying to get to the warmth of the heated building. He thought he saw Hannah Sears, her pink hair visible under a white hat, but then realized it was just a girl with a pink scarf wrapped around her neck.

Lucas spotted Lindsay almost immediately. She was walking alone, her bag slung over one shoulder. Her eyes were on her phone as she made her way to the doors. She still had her black jacket and black knit hat, but her jeans were blue today.

Lucas stepped out in front of her and she almost bumped into him. Her eyes traveled the length of him, a mild look of shock and confusion registering on her face when she realized who was standing in front of her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I was hoping I could talk to you.”

She stiffened. “Why?”

“I have some questions about you and Noah.”

She scowled. “There is no me and Noah.”

She stepped to the side, intent on walking around Lucas, but he moved with her, blocking her path.

Her scowl deepened. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I told you, I have a couple questions for you,” Lucas said mildly. “It’ll take five minutes, tops.” He glanced at his watch. “Bell doesn’t ring for twenty minutes, so you have plenty of time to get to class.”

“I don’t have five minutes,” she told him, her dark eyes glittering.

“I suggest you make time.” His voice had a harder edge now. “Because I found something that needs explaining.”

“You’re trespassing,” she said. She got up on her tiptoes and scanned the thin crowd of people coming in from the parking lot. “You’re not supposed to be on school grounds. I’m finding the security guard.”

“I saw the message you sent to Noah. On Instagram.”

Lindsay froze.

Lucas leaned close, his voice dropping. “Who hurt you, Lindsay? Who was that message about?”

The anger dissipated from her expression. Instead, she looked worried. Fearful, even.

She tugged at the long braid hanging over her shoulder, her fingers holding tightly to the tail. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Lucas exhaled. He needed to be patient, to not be his overbearing self. This girl didn’t want to talk, and going into bullying mode wasn’t going to do squat.

He tried gentling his voice and his expression. “Did someone hurt you?”

She wouldn’t look at him. But after a few seconds, she gave the slightest of nods.

Lucas’s pulse quickened. He reminded himself to go slow, to not push.

“And Noah knew about it, right?”

Another slight nod.

“He wanted you to report it?”

She still wasn’t looking at him, but Lucas could see the tears glistening in her eyes. She nodded again.

Lucas kept mental track of the questions he was asking. “Did you? Report it?”

Lindsay looked to her boots. She subtly shook her head.

Lucas was ready to pounce with questions, but a backpack hit him in the kidney. Not a hard jab, and not intentional—at least he didn’t think it was—but it was enough to get his attention.

He turned around. Jack Whitman and a couple of his friends were walking by, in heavy discussion about the weekend basketball tournament in Osseo. Lucas recognized one of them, the dark-haired kid from the gym.

“Sorry, man,” Jack said automatically. But then he registered who he’d just bumped into and the friendly smile vanished.

Jack glanced at Lindsay and then back at Lucas.

“What’s going on here?” he asked.

Lucas said nothing. Lindsay looked quickly at Jack before shifting her attention back to the sidewalk. Her eyes were still wet with unshed tears.

“Is he giving you trouble?” Jack asked Lindsay.

She didn’t respond.

“Why the fuck is she crying, man?” Jack asked.

“Jack, don’t—” Lindsay began.

He ignored her. He stared pointedly at Lucas, challenging him. “Leave her alone.”

A muscle in Lucas’s jaw twitched but he kept his cool. “And if I don’t?”

The flash of uncertainty on Jack’s face disappeared so fast Lucas thought he might’ve imagined it.

Jack grabbed Lindsay’s arm. “You should stop trolling jail bait,” he said to Lucas. “And you should get off school property before I report you.” He smiled thinly. “Unless you want one of your old buddies on the force to lock you up.”

He tugged on Lindsay’s arm, and Lucas watched as he and his friends led her into school.