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Trevor. He hardl y even knew who Emil y wa s—h ow could he have known the name of her golden retriever? So, if it wasn’t her ghost, what explanation made sense? There was no wa y all this could be a coincidence.
    And apparentl y she’d been up to Wind y Point at least once b y herself.
    Did she fall? Did she jump? Was she dragged over the edge?
    Or ma yb e, was she pushed?
    Ronnie had told him he thought his sister was killed.
    Ma yb e he was right.

CHAPTER
TEN
    As it turned out, a domestic disturbance call kept Daniel’s dad out a little later and he didn’t make it home until after seven. He warmed up a fajita for supper, but didn’t sa y much to his son.
    He usuall y took some time to himself when he got home from work and the y didn’t alwa ys talk much with each othe r—b ut it wasn’t a strained silence. It was more the comfortable kind a father and son can develop over time when the y’ ve been through a lot together and come out on the other side respecting each other more than ever before.
    K yl e showed up just before eight. Even though he’d eaten at home, he microwaved a fajita for himself and the y headed to Daniel’s bedroom.
    Basketball and football trophies cluttered the shelves and the top of Daniel’s dresser. Since his dad wasn’t too excited about the idea of his having Sports Illustrated swimsuit-issue pics all over his walls, Daniel stuck with posters of his favorite Mavericks and Packers pla ye rs instead. It was clearl y the room of a kid who was into sports.
    K yl e dropped his backpack on the desk, quickl y finished off his fajita, and then flumped onto the bed and started throwing Daniel’s Nerf football into the air. “So, did yo u call her ye t?”
    “Who?”
    “Stac y, dude. The new girl. Did yo u ask her to the dance on Saturda y? ”
    “I don’t have her number.”
    “Oh, that’s lame.”
    “How’s that lame?”
    “Google her. Whatever. Facebook. See if it’s listed. Some people do that. You can at least message her through there, an yw a y. ”
    “No . . . I don’t know. Asking someone out that wa y, it’s just . . . I don’t reall y want to do it through a text message. Seems sort of cowardl y. ”
    K yl e looked at him disbelievingl y. “Has no one informed yo u that yo u are now living in the twent y- first centur y? ”
    “I need to talk to her in person, or at least on the phone. I don’t know. It wouldn’t feel right.”
    “Well, I could call Mia, see if she has her number?”
    “I don’t know. I guess not. Not right now.”
    K yl e shrugged. “Your call.” He tossed the football into the air a few more times. “So, do yo u have either of yo ur blogs written for Teach’s class ye t?”
    “Still working on ’e m. You?”
    “I’ve been kicking around a few ideas. What do yo u have so far?”
    Daniel turned his laptop so K yl e could see the blank page on his word processor.
    “Ah.”
    “Yeah.”
    “So just jot down yo ur thoughts.”
    “This kind of thing comes naturall y to yo u. I’m not a writer.”
    K yl e stopped with the football. “Do yo u have a journal? What about that one yo ur mom gave yo u last ye ar?”
    “A journal? You mean write it out instead of t yp ing it?”
    “Exactl y. ”
    “Now who’s stuck in the twentieth centur y? ”
    “Humor me.”
    How the process of writing his blog b y hand rather than t yp ing it was going to help him do better with the assignment was be yo nd him, but if K yl e thought it was a good idea, Daniel figured it was at least worth a shot.
    He dug the journal out of his desk. He’d dabbled with writing some thoughts in it after his mom left, but he didn’t reall y want to see those entries, so he quickl y flipped past them to a blank page.
    “So,” K yl e said, “tell me about a dream yo u have.”
    When he put it that wa y, Daniel immediatel y thought of the distressing dreams he’d had last night. He knew what K yl e meant, though, so he tried to think of his dreams for the