Sheriff Nillson stared down at me as I rubbed my stinging jaw. “If you’re hiding something from me, so help me,” he said. “I’m not having two girls disappear on my watch.” He put the emphasis on the “two”—“not having two girls disappear”—like one would have been acceptable but two was vulgar. Or maybe, like he’d known about the first one, had a hand in it, but the second was an unwelcome surprise. I was struggling to take a full breath. “If Brenda is missing, ask Ricky,” I said. “Ricky and Ant and Ed. They’ll know. Ed’s back in town. He bought Brenda earrings.” Dad and Sheriff Nillson shared a
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