Adam drives by Trace’s apartment building but his friend’s Jeep isn’t parked in its usual spot by the curb so he doesn’t stop. Chances are he’s at Janie’s. She doesn’t live far.
But the Jeep isn’t in the driveway at Janie’s mom’s place, either. Still, just to be sure, Adam pulls in and cuts off his car. The porch steps echo beneath his sneakers and when he rings the bell, he hears it fade away into the depths of the house.
The door opens. Janie’s mom looks out and frowns at him, his red eyes, the blood smeared along his cheek. He must look awful. “Is Trace here?”
He hopes he sounds calm but suspects otherwise when she doesn’t answer immediately. He twists his hands behind his back and clamps his lips together until they disappear in his face to keep from pushing past her into the house.
