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lost it."
    "Oh, how?"
    "We were inside one of the buildings. It was dark and Myra got spooked. When she ran out, her scarf came off. She didn't want to go back inside for it."
    "Didn't she ask you to go get it?"
    "No, she just wanted to leave. Did you find it?" Detective Olsen considered his question a moment before answering. "It was ripped and hanging on the edge of a protruding piece of wood."
    Will's mother carried two cups of coffee to the table, one for Olsen and one for herself. She gave Will a glass of orange juice.
    Olsen thanked her, then continued her questions. "What kind of mood were you in when you went back to the parking lot?"
    Will felt uneasy about the questions, even though he had nothing to hide. "We just talked for a while before we left."
    "Before you left. You told the sheriff you didn't see Myra leave."
    "Right."
    Olsen stared at him as if she were looking inside him. "Did you tell her you didn't want to see her anymore?"
    A beat passed. How could she know? Of course: He'd mentioned it to Claude, and he'd told his father. "Yeah, we broke up."
    "Why didn't you tell that to the sheriff yesterday?" Will shrugged. "I didn't think it was important."
    "Will," his mother said, “of course that could be important. Myra was upset."
    He shook his head. "Maybe. But I don't think she'd run away, especially not without the minivan."
    "Unless she went with someone else," Detective Olsen said as she jotted down something in her notebook. "How'd she get along with her parents?"
    "As far as I know, everything was fine at home." Olsen never took her eyes off Will. "But things weren't so good between the two of you?"
    Will stared into the glass of orange juice. "It just wasn't going anywhere. I think she knew it, too."
    Will's mother came to his support. "Kids at this age usually don't have long-term, stable relationships. There's nothing unusual about—"
    Olsen patted the air. "Oh, I know, Ms. Connors. I've got a daughter who's a freshman at the University of Colorado this fall and a son who's fourteen. Believe me, I know."
    She pushed away from the table. "Will, I understand you drive a Jeep Wrangler. Is it the one in the driveway?"
    "Yeah."
    "Would you mind if I take a look inside it?"
    He shrugged, glanced at his mother, then back at Olsen. "I don't mind."
    They walked outside, and he unlocked the driver's door of the red Wrangler. He opened it and stepped aside for the detective. There were a couple of notebooks on the backseat, but the vehicle was otherwise empty.
    The Jeep had been waiting for him when he'd returned to Aspen at the end of the summer. It was a birthday present from his mother. He appreciated it, of course, and had thanked her profusely, but after several weeks on the Hopi reservation, he couldn't help feeling guilty about the ease with which such costly gifts came to him.
    He had come home with a new perspective on his life and his family's wealth. He had never thought of himself as a rich kid, especially since so many kids in town were from families with a lot more money. But after his summer's experience, he knew there was no comparing his life in Aspen with that of a Hopi kid on the reservation.
    For a while, he'd actually considered living with his father. At least he'd considered what it would be like, and he knew it would mean leaving behind not only his friends and family but also his way of life. The adjustment would require a commitment that he wasn't ready to make.
    Detective Olsen seemed most interested in examining the rugs on the floor of the Jeep and in the rear compartment. Will and his mother watched from a distance. "Does she really think I had something to do with Myra's disappearance? I wouldn't do anything to hurt her."
    Marion put a hand on his shoulder. "Of course you wouldn't. She's just doing her job."
    "Will?" Olsen called to him.
    He walked over, and she asked him to open the glove compartment. "I don't think it's locked," he said. "I usually don't bother."
    "I'd