June 8, 1995

Dear Sam,

Mom and Dad came home today.

I knew they'd be coming, from the calendar and all, so I waited in the foyer and sort of rehearsed things until I heard the car coming up the drive. Then I sat down on the stairs with your note from the front door in my hand and waited for the emotional roller coaster ride to start.

And oh boy, did it.

When Mom and Dad came through the door, they were... HAPPY. Dad held the door open for mom and then carried their bags in, all with this goofy smile on his face, and she said something to him that I didn't catch, but they both laughed—

Weird, right?

Then Mom caught sight of me and was all, "Oh, Katie! You're back! We had no idea you'd be here so early in the month, sorry we weren't here to meet you..."

And then they both got a good look at my face. I didn't need to fake anything there. I hadn't slept much or well, and I'd cried a little, waiting there with only that little scrap of you, your handwriting I mean, to keep me company.

"What's wrong?" Dad this time. A beat, then: "Where's Sam?"

I handed him the note, and I hugged Mom, and went to pieces over her shoulder while they read it.

The next hour or so is kind of a blur. They argued back and forth a little, Mom cried and held on to the paper with her hand trembling like it WAS a suicide note, and Dad asked me questions but I acted like the note was all I'd seen or knew.

Like you wanted me to.

Eventually they did decide to call the police, and some people from Missing Persons came and—investigated. They asked us lots of questions, they turned the place upside down (they cut open your locker, I TOTALLY called it). I had an excuse, I wasn't here all year, so they didn't spend all that much time on me and I didn't have to lie TOO much.

Mom and Dad, though, they went to town with.

It didn't take long for them to point fingers at "that Lonnie girl." Something like this...

Cop: Lonnie?

Dad: It was short for something. Yolanda, I think...

Cop: Last name?

Mom: I don't remember. It was on one of those slips from the principal, though, if I can find it.

(She won't, of course. I hid it with the rest)

Cop: So she was another student? A classmate?

Dad: Yes, at Goodfellow. They were... very close friends.

But Mom gave him this look. You know, that young-lady-maybe-you're-not-lying-but-you're-not-telling-the-whole-truth look. I've never seen her use it on DAD before. And then he said, "They were, ah. Romantically involved."

Sam, I wish you could've seen his face in that moment. There was anger, yeah, and worry, but also a sort of regret? And remember your April 22nd entry, "A Very Long Phase"? This means they're PAST that, at least a step. Maybe something happened between them on their anniversary trip, or you managed to shock them out of it with this stunt, but it's something, right?

Eventually the police left. Eventually we had a sort of somber heat-and-eat dinner where we tried to talk about my trip but nobody really felt like talking. And eventually Mom and Dad headed to bed and I settled in to write this letter.

Today—

That moment with Dad gave me hope. I think we can FIX this, Sam.

...if it weren't for the imminent manhunt, I guess.

I wish you'd come home.

Love you,

Katie