Of all the things we’ve done on this trip, getting into a stranger’s car just because he uses an app might be the stupidest. Zander is like a hundred years old and he’s dressed like he’s a hipster college student. Only he’s so not. His beard is more salt than pepper, and he smells like clove cigarettes, a smell I’d never had the unfortunate luck to experience until now. Ezra sits up front with him and Cece and I get in the back seat, which is equal parts dog hair and car seat. Besides a quick hello, Zander doesn’t say anything. The radio plays some electronic synth stuff at a low enough volume that I can ignore it.

Parts of me are watching Zander drive, wondering if he’s a serial murderer. Even if he’s not, that’s not very comforting. I mean, every serial murderer starts out somewhere, right? There’s always a time when serial murderers were just regular people—until they snapped and killed everyone in their Uber car.

I can’t wait to get home. This trip is making me delusional.

Not to mention the pang in my stomach that’s starting to feel less like anxiety and more like regret. What are we supposed to do once we get to this apartment complex? Find the red Jeep and demand to know why the owner isn’t Thomas? Hope and pray that the real owner doesn’t report us for some grade A level stalking?

I look over at Cece and try to come up with things to say when this all goes wrong. The Uber car’s GPS says we’re fifteen minutes away. That’s not enough time to prepare for the ending of Cece’s epic adventure. I’m not even sure there’s anything I could say or do to help her when she finds out the truth. I just hope there’s still enough time to get a bus ride home tonight. Everything else I can figure out as it happens.

“I can’t deal with this much excitement,” Cece says after a while. “I feel like my entire body is about to break apart into little pieces that are all jumping up and down. I’m like the freaking broomstick in Fantasia.”

“Why’s that?” Our driver asks, his reflection catching ours in the rear-view mirror.

“I’m going to see my brother,” she explains. Little dimples form on her cheeks as she exhales excitedly. “He’s going to freak. I’m going to freak. I can’t stand the anticipation.”

“How long’s it been since you saw him last?” Zander asks.

“Four years and six months.”

Our driver’s eyebrows lift up in sync with his handlebar mustache. “Wow. I haven’t talked to my brother in a few months, but if you ask me, that’s not long enough. My brother’s a dick, though.”

Cece snorts. “Mine is the best. He doesn’t know we’re coming, but he’ll be excited.”

The GPS voice tells us to take a right and Zander lowers the volume a little.

“What kept you apart for so long?” he asks.

From the front seat, Ezra tenses, his jaw tightening as he looks back at us. Cece, however, doesn’t hesitate.

“He was dead.”

Zander quirks an eyebrow.

“Well, everyone thought he was dead. But I never believed it, and now nearly five years later I finally tracked him down.”

“You sure it’s him and not someone with his same name?

“No,” Cece says, surprising me. She’s been so confident so far. She shrugs. “But I’m following my instincts here.”

“If it’s not him, we’ll regroup and try again,” Ezra says, giving her a smile.

Zander chuckles, shaking his head. “Damn, that’s a story I’ve never heard while doing this job. Hey, how old would your brother be now?”

“Twenty,” Cece says.

Zander frowns. “So he was, what, sixteen when he left? Did he sneak off with a friend or his deadbeat dad or something?”

“Our parents are dead,” Cece says. “Officially dead,” she adds after an awkward moment of silence.

“And I’m his only friend,” Ezra adds. “There was some evidence that he died, but we think he might be alive.”

“Dude, no kid could survive that long on his own.” Stopping at a red light, Zander turns around to face us. “You’re chasing a ghost, kids.”

“We’re chasing someone who left just enough clues for us to find him.” I feel my face heating up, but Cece is unfazed. “He’ll be happy to see us.”

The light turns green and Zander turns left, still following the GPS which says we’re now only four minutes away. More nervous feelings burst to life in my stomach. This is about to happen. We’re almost there. No turning back now.

Cece’s anxiously tapping her foot on the floorboard, her hands twisting together as we near the apartment complex. The parking lot looks identical to those photos online. Ezra and Cece are glued to the windows, just like I am, all looking for that red Jeep.

Zander pulls into the complex parking lot and puts the car in park.

“I’ll get our bags,” Ezra says, getting out of the car. Zander pops the trunk for him, and I go to get out too.

“Well good luck, I guess,” Zander says. Turning to Cece, he says, “You ever think a kid who ran away and faked his own death probably doesn’t want to be found?”

“I’m paying for a ride, not your terrible advice,” Cece says, smiling so sweetly the words don’t seem like they’ve come from her mouth. “And the ride is over now.”