Frank and Rubio escorted Molly to a motel and stayed until a squad car arrived. The two uniformed police would remain stationed in the parking lot until morning.

Frank handed her a card before they left. “Keep us apprised of your whereabouts. We can’t provide a police presence if we don’t know where you are.”

“Understood.” She took the card.

Once they had stepped out and she could latch the security chain, she breathed a sigh of relief. She was tired, and the sandwich hadn’t given her a lot of mileage. She needed real food, but it was also late enough she didn’t want to leave the room. She had a bottle of water in her purse and some dried fruit and nuts in her suitcase. That would have to do until tomorrow.

It was all logistics. She didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that Josiah was alive.

Sitting sat at the edge of the bed, she called Sarah, who picked up on the first ring.

“There you are. We were getting worried.”

“Sorry, this is the first time I’ve had a chance to call. The police questioned me for hours. I only just got to my motel room.” Now that she was in private, she let tears spill over. “Josiah was hurt badly, but he’s alive. His coven brought in a magical trauma specialist. He came to the police station—he said the crash wasn’t an accident.”

“That’s… complicated,” Sarah said. “It’s such good news that he survived and he’s all right, but are you safe?”

“For now, yes. Nobody knows where I am, and they put a police car outside.”

“I’ll let the others know. You’ve got to be exhausted.”

“I am. I’m going to get some sleep. Then I’ll start tackling my to-do list.”

“I want you to check in often after you wake up.”

“I will,” she promised. “Sarah, thank you for everything. Please thank the others again for me too.”

“Of course. In this coven, we look out for each other. Always remember that. Now get some rest.”

“You too.”

After washing and getting ready for bed, Molly rummaged in her carry-on for the new tablet she’d bought at the airport. She went through the setup instructions, connected to the motel’s Wi-Fi, and logged back into her old email account.

She had over a thousand emails from friends, acquaintances, old coworkers and volunteers she had worked with, Tanya Martin. So many people, offering condolences, asking for her to get in touch, sending good wishes. The volume was overwhelming.

There wasn’t anything from her mother, but email was not Gloria’s preferred method of communication. She had an email account that she checked from time to time, but the phone was how she chose to reach out, and Molly knew her old phone number had been deactivated after the bill had gone unpaid.