Noah's POV
Daniel wanted to call the police immediately. I wanted to open the attachments first and regretted that decision within about ten seconds of clicking the first one.
It was a photo, higher resolution than anything Ethan had described from the camp gallery, clear enough that there was no room left for doubt the way there had been with a blurry newspaper article or a half-remembered website. Two boys on a dock. Younger than I let myself think about most days. One of them was me, unmistakably, down to the crooked front tooth I'd had before braces fixed it. The other boy had his head tipped back mid-laugh, sun catching him at an angle that made it hard to make out every detail, but not hard enough. Not hard enough to stop the room from tilting sideways again the way it had in the k
