The bathroom emptied out three times over. She walked the area twice, scanning every face she passed. She checked the two coffee stands and the ticket counter, where the man with the sausage fingers had helped them. There was no sign of Lorraine. Summer tried to remember the gate number from the tickets. Maybe her mother had gone there. But even as she thought it, she knew it wasn’t true; her mother would never leave her, especially not during a time like this. Going back to the board, she searched for the departures to Albuquerque and found that their flight had left ten minutes ago. Summer tried not to cry, but it was all too much. She did another lap of the airport, past the flashing, pinging slot machines, and past tourists in brightly colored shirts, wearing their vacation faces. She could smell coffee and the sweet aroma of baked goods mixed with a man’s cologne.

Where was her mother? This felt like a nightmare within a nightmare, Summer thought, like a Stephen King book she had snuck back from Red’s one time. This felt like when her dad had died and she didn’t know what to do with her hands or face, because nothing made sense. She had no money, no way to make a phone call—and who would she call, anyway? She didn’t even know her grandparents’ phone number. She wandered outside, back to the trash can where her mother had deposited the gun. She stood there for a good few seconds before she noticed the man standing against his car, looking at her. He was casual, arms crossed over his chest, his glasses reflecting the activity of the drop-off. It was Taured.

She sat in the back seat of his car, the BMW she’d stolen the photos from. Her mother sat beside her, pale, her hair tangled and her lip swollen. When Taured pushed Summer into the back seat of the car, Lorraine had looked at her daughter with scared, wet eyes, but didn’t say anything. Summer quietly folded herself into the seat, eyeing the police officer who was watching traffic a few yards away. Could she jump out and run to him? Would Taured drive away with her mother if she did? Would he be arrested? She looked at her mother, who was breathing nosily from the seat beside her. She was hurt. Then the car was moving, and it was too late to do anything. Summer reached across the leather seat to hold her mother’s hand.