Neither of them really wanted to go to Zach's house. They didn't look forward to seeing his parents. But somehow, Evan had convinced himself that this was the best place to start, and he'd managed to get Ada to see it that way too (it'd been hard to win her over). It was two days after they'd met at Evan's house, although now, that seemed ages ago. They'd talked so much in person and on the phone since then that it was like they'd never even stopped speaking. They'd really only talked about Zach, and then about typical stuff, like school, and who was doing what with whom, and so on. They hadn't gotten personal about themselves, but that was, perhaps, a good thing. The focus, as Evan said, needed to be on finding Zach.

So now they stood at the Farmers' door, and Ada was beginning to feel like all she did was stand at people's doors and not want to go in, and Evan had to be the one with the actual guts to ring the bell.

It was several minutes before anyone answered. They would've turned around and left, assuming no one was home, but they'd seen movement in one of the windows. So they'd waited, and Evan had rung again, and at last, the door was answered by a middle-aged-looking man, average in height, slightly stocky, with a short beard around his chin, dressed in jeans and a casual T-shirt. He looked like a million other peoples' dads.

"Can I help you?" he asked, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

Evan hadn't met Zach's parents. Ada had met them a number of times, but she was kind of standing behind Evan, and when she noticed he'd become entirely tongue-tied, she stepped out more so Mr. Farmer could see her. "Hi, Mr. Farmer. Do you remember me?"

The man's face softened. He didn't look quite so skeptical anymore. "Ada, isn't it?"

She nodded.

Then he cocked his head a little to one side, like he was beginning to understand why they were there. "You're a friend of Zach's, right?"

"Yes. That's . . . that's what we came to ask you about."

Mr. Farmer eyed them strangely. Neither Evan nor Ada could tell what emotion was represented in that expression, or whether there was any emotion at all. "What do you want to ask me about? We don't know where he is, and we aren't helping with school projects or interviews or anything of the like."

"No!" interrupted Evan, somewhat startling Ada. "That's . . . we're not here to harass you or anything. Like you said, we were—are—his friends." It suddenly became clear to Evan that he had no idea where to go from there. He didn't know what he'd anticipated, but he hadn't expected to be so tongue-tied. There was this image in his head of Zach's parents being so glad to see them, to have someone to talk to about things and to realize their son had friends and people who cared, and them just sitting down in the living room and gushing about everything they knew (or didn't know).

But gushing clearly wasn't what was on Mr. Farmer's mind. The man was still standing expectantly, waiting to hear what it was these visitors wanted, but he was getting impatient with their mumblings. "Look, kids," he said, somewhat tiredly, "unless you can tell me what it is you need, I've got things I need to be doing. So . . ."

"We just came to see . . . what you were like," Evan said quietly, feeling stupid for saying it, but knowing that was really the reason they'd come.

Mr. Farmer frowned. "What I was like? What the hell does that mean?"

Ada tried to cover up for her friend. "Well, not exactly that—more like—like—"

But the man was already closing the door. "Now you know," he said, right before he shut it in their faces.

Silence. The wind blew softly around the two, who turned slowly toward one another, their faces blank. Then, Ada took a deep breath, as if she was trying to remain calm, but her arm contradicted that impression as she hit Evan hard in the shoulder. "You idiot!" she cried. "What'd you say that for?"

Evan was taken aback, he stumbled off the porch step. "What do you mean? Somebody had to say something! I didn't hear you saying anything worthwhile! And besides," he added, rubbing his shoulder a bit bitterly, "That is why we came, isn't it?"

Ada sighed. She stepped down off the porch onto the pathway that led to the street. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But we should've thought of a more . . . approachable way of saying it."

They started off down the path, toward the street, where Evan's car was parked. It was pretty chilly outside, and it was wet, too, which always made things colder. There was a strange sort of mist in the air, all dewey-like, and it might've been pretty, except it crept into their shirt collars and through their clothes; made them feel soggy and generally unhappy. And now, after their failed attempt to talk with Zach's dad, they were both feeling pretty cranky. Like nothing was meant to go their way, anyway, so what was the point.

"Hey!" called a little-boy voice. "Hey, whatcha doin'?"

Evan and Ada turned around at the same time and saw, in the driveway of the house to the left of the Farmers', two kids standing there. Both were boys. They looked like they were elementary school age. One was obviously older, maybe around eleven or ten. The other was probably half his age. The two of them were just standing there, glaring at Evan and Ada, with no evident reason to be outside in the cold, dreary weather than to stare.

Ada wasn't going to answer; she vaguely remembered Zach telling her once that those kids were obnoxious. But Evan was a little friendlier than she was. "Nothing. What're you guys up to?" He smiled good-naturedly.

Neither of them smiled in return. "You know Zach?" the older one asked.

"Uh . . . yeah, we used to," said Evan. He got kind of uncomfortable all of a sudden, like it was just a little weird for this kid to be asking him about Zach out of nowhere, looking all serious and not like some normal kid.

The younger one spoke. "He's our friend, too." He kind of sniffled.

Ada and Evan had stopped walking and were standing at the foot of the kids' driveway, about eight yards from them, just staring back. It was so damp and misty out that they felt they couldn't really see the boys properly. They were both light-blond-haired and pale-eyed. A bit ghostly-looking in the grayness.

The older boy scowled at his little brother, then looked back at Ada and Evan. He didn't look friendly at all. "Do you know where he is?"

Evan saw what was going on, here. The kids liked Zach. They missed him. Even the older one, who was showing his unrest through anger rather than sadness. Empathy filled Evan. He knew how they felt. "No," he replied in answer to the boy's question. Then a small ray of hope struck him—an idea. "Hey listen," he went on, stepping a little closer to the two. "We're Zach's friends from school. We want to know what happened to him, because we miss him, too. But we don't really have a lot of clues about everything. Is there anything maybe you could help us with?"

The little one looked confused; the older one shrugged, but looked thoughtful. He narrowed his eyes pensively, then said, to Evan's disappointment, "No. I don't know anything weird. You're like the cops. They asked us all sorts of stuff. Like if we'd seen something or if he'd ever said anything to us. He hardly ever talked to us at all; he was usually going back off in those woods or hanging out in the yard or something. We don't know anything weird." Then, with a glance that, for some reason, sent a chill down Evan's arms, the boy added sarcastically, "Do you know where he is? Is that why you're really here? You want to tell them?" He nodded toward the Farmers' house.

Ada was pulling Evan's arm, saying quietly that they should leave; she didn't like these weird kids.

Not knowing what to say in reply anyhow, Evan let himself be led away, back toward his car, and the two boys just stood and watched them until they got in and drove far enough away that they could no longer be seen.

"Weird kids," said Ada, as Evan was quiet and contemplative, and she felt like the silence was odd and needed to be broken.

At first, Evan didn't say anything. Then he replied, "Yeah. Definitely." He was suddenly, for some reason, thinking of that bird he'd drowned a few days ago. That had been his last incident since meeting up with Ada again after all these months. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't even had the urge to hurt something. Until he'd seen those two boys. Not that he wanted to hurt them, exactly. At least, he didn't think that was why they'd made his mind jump to the bird. It was weird . . . he definitely hoped he wasn't starting to think about hurting people. It'd always been animals. Or things he could just pick apart. Not people. He wasn't a psychopath . . . he thought.

Ada was saying something. Evan wasn't really paying her much attention. The houses and cars along the suburban streets were swathed in mist and rain. It had begun to pour shortly after they'd gotten into the car. Water was flooding down the car's windows in sheets. The wipers were going crazy on the windshield, but it still seemed as if the car was underwater with all the rain. Evan was concentrating on driving, looking only straight ahead, peering through the rainwater, which warped his view of the streets, and trying to rethink what it was those kids had said. Somehow, he had a feeling that they'd said something important, as weird as they were. Even though Ada was going on about stuff, he wasn't really paying her conversation any attention until her voice suddenly raised to a frantic pitch.

Turning fast to glance at her, Evan saw what she'd freaked about; on the passenger-side window, the rain was bright red. His heart beating fast, not believing his eyes, he looked back to the windshield only to notice in horror that red was beginning to run down that window as well, mixing with the clear water.

Unable to see, Evan slammed on the brakes, but that only caused them to lock, and as the car swerved dangerously to the left and something slammed the world out of place into sudden blackness, he heard Ada scream somewhere beyond him.