When my neighbor first said it, I laughed it off.

“Seriously, Megan,” Claire Donovan called over the fence while I wrestled a bag of groceries from my trunk. “I saw Lily at your house again today. Around ten.”

Lily was twelve. Sixth grade. A kid who still asked me to braid her hair before school pictures and still left the caps off markers. There was no world where she was casually hanging around home at ten in the morning.“I’m sure you saw someone else,” I said, forcing the smile I used when adults said strange things about children. “She’s in school.”

Claire didn’t smile back. She had that look people get when they’re deciding whether to say something that could ruin a relationship.

“I wouldn’t bring it up if I wasn’t sure. I saw her through the front window. She was… sitting on the couch. And Jason’s truck was here.”My husband’s truck.

That night I asked Jason, as lightly as I could, while we cleared plates.

“Random thing. Claire says she’s seen Lily at home during school hours.”

Jason barely looked up from rinsing dishes. “Claire needs a hobby.”

“She sounded pretty sure.”He shut off the faucet a little too hard. “Lily’s in school. End of story.”

Lily, for her part, kept her eyes on her plate. She pushed peas around like they were mines.

I waited until Jason went to bed and then sat at the edge of Lily’s room. She was under her blanket, phone screen dimmed.

“Hey,” I whispered. “If something’s going on, you can tell me.”