We spent the rest of the afternoon going over much of the same ground I’d covered earlier in the week looking for Addy. She had a year-old photo of her and Carly, but it wasn’t particularly helpful. The two girls stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of an asphalt basketball court at an outdoor park, almost silhouetted by an overcast sky. The friend who’d taken the photo was long gone. Addy didn’t know where, but they’d never been that close anyway.
Addy went in with me everywhere because she refused to part with her photo. Which was fine, since I didn’t trust her enough to leave her alone in the car. Addy’s presence also encouraged wary young people to speak with us. Not that it mattered. No one recognized Carly or knew anything about her. So they said.
“That last girl,” Addy said.
“Youn
