"Nothing."

Everyone looked to Scarlett, who also shook her head.

"I don't know what to say, guys," Chambers said. "I was really hoping for some kind of epiphany for you all. I was hoping you'd get here and it would all flood back for you."

"It's just. It doesn't make sense." Lucas stood.

Chambers said, "It makes more sense than anything has in eleven years." He turned to face them all. "This was the guy. This was the place. You were here."

"Why only five?" Lucas asked. "Why wasn't Max in any of the photos?"

"Maybe he was never here," Chambers said. "Maybe his going missing was totally unrelated."

Lucas didn't like that idea.

Didn't like what it meant for Avery and her family.

That they'd wasted eleven years on the wrong search, the wrong type of grieving and hope.

He didn't want it to be true.

Didn't want any of this to be happening.

He wanted to see the photos.

Maybe that was the whole point of it, the tattoo.

"There's something you're going to want to see." Chambers ducked back out of the room. "Maybe it will convince you."

AVERY.

The tip line headquarters was in the capital building of Blandville.

Well, not really.

But yes, it was the kind of building you'd never notice if you hadn't had reason to go there. In the kind of stretch of useless buildings that, if you were lucky, you'd never have any occasion to visit in your whole life.

Blandville Dry Cleaners.

Blandville Pizza.

Blandville Tax Accountant.

Blandville Florist.

Blandville Wines and Liquors.

The Blandville Tip Line's storefront might have been a bank once, or insurance office, or campaign headquarters for the Blandville mayor. It looked temporary, malleable. Just tables and phones and laptops and a coffeemaker and a tall water cooler with a stout blue family of empty jugs beside it.

Avery had been introduced around and her mother had put on quite an impressive performance in her leading role as GRATEFUL MOTHER OF MISSING CHILD.

A round of applause.

Brava.

Standing O.

Avery hadn't known that her mother had it in her, to pull out such a masterful performance. Maybe that was where she'd gotten her interest in theater and drama at school.

Last night, her mom had dropped to her knees and said, "Oh, thank G.o.d," when the call had come that the body was not Max's.

Avery had had quite a different reaction.

She'd been, well, disappointed.

Still was.

Because it meant that the waiting and wondering was going to drag on.

Did she want Max to be dead?

Of course not.

Did she want this whole thing to be over with?

Absolutely.

It meant she had to redouble her efforts.

She had to find another way to get answers.

She'd been ignoring texts from Emma all morning: Any news?

You okay?

What's going on?

Maybe you lost your phone?

It had started to feel like a game: IGNORING EMMA'S TEXTS.

FOR 1 PLAYER. AGES 14 AND UP.

Like, did Emma's brain have the capacity to think of maybe trying to call the landline or do anything other than keep texting?

The last text had been the one that really irked her.

Poor Sam.

Poor Sam?

That was her takeaway?

This morning there had been a text from Lucas, too.

How are you holding up?

Did that mean he understood how she felt?

Because he hadn't said "Relieved for you" or "Happy for you."

Or was she reading into it?

She knew the cops were taking them all there.

So she'd texted: Good luck today.

He'd written back: Thanks.

They were here now with coffee and donuts, to say thanks, as well-to the tip line staff.

Yes, thanks, tip line.

Thanks for nothing.

Avery was eating a too-sweet jelly donut when she was cornered by a nerdy-looking woman in her forties with a long black ponytail.

"I remember you," the woman said. "I remember it all. And you, so little. On the news."

"Yeah?" Avery said. "I guess everyone who was around then remembers."

"Who could forget," the woman said-seemingly without any awareness at all of how ridiculous a statement that was. "I felt so awful for all you families. I joined a search party and everything."

"Well, um"-this was too weird-"Thanks, I guess."

The woman smiled sadly.

"So who was the tip from?" Avery asked, sounding upbeat. "Who made the call? Are they collecting the reward?"

"Oh." The woman waved a hand. "It was anonymous. When there's a dead body involved, they usually are."

Avery c.o.c.ked her head. "You do this a lot? This kind of work?"

"Nine-one-one operator."

"Ah." Avery nodded. "Well, I'm glad it turned up a good lead. I'm glad they caught the guy. My father thought it was just all going to be crazy people."

"Well, we have those, too. They're still calling." She looked at her watch. "Speaking of which, I should get back to the phones."

"What are they saying, the crazy people?"

"Oh, you know. The crazy things." She smiled and walked off.

Scarlett

The color matching of memory and reality was striking.

The stripes, if measured, would have been equal down to the millimeter.

You couldn't see Scarlett.

Or anyone.

The photo had been taken from the ground, looking up at the balloon.

But she knew she was there in that dangling basket.

F l o a t i n g.

"This is it." She stepped closer to the large framed photograph on the wall of a big lodge-like room.

A singular cloud in the distance had the shape of an elephant mid-sneeze.

Felt calm just standing there.