It was at Celia Baker's house on a Wednesday during the summer between sophomore and junior year in high school. There were four of us: myself, Celia,...Karla Glover and Bridget Hopkins. We were all bff's and had slept over at her house the night before. It was just before lunch and we were all out by her pool, the day was sunny and warm, and her brother, Brett, came out and plopped into a chair by the pool to read a Playboy magazine.Brett was two years older than us at eighteen and was the. They’d stop hunting for us.” In an increasing, jumbled frenzy she spit out plans, destinations, options, all driven by the need to escape danger - a reaction to what she’d just seen.I waited her out. When she fell silent, I said calmly, “I wasn’t killed. There’s nowhere to run. You can’t spend the rest of your life in hiding. There’s only one way to make all this stop and that’s to figure out what’s going on.”“But...” Tears glistened in her eyes. In a soft voice, she said, “You could have been. More

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