“You won’t be. Let’s call it a random act of kindness,” Hank said. “But I’ll warn you, it’s an eco hotel. My brother’s fiancée is an earthy type—vegan, environmentalist, self-righteous.”

Matt thought about his friend Sofia. “I love that type. And you know the first rule of Vegan Club, right?”

Hank shook her head.

“Tell everyone about Vegan Club.”

She laughed.

Matt dropped into the passenger seat. Hank drove down the gravel road, veering around people on old bicycles, past storefronts covered in graffiti and open-air food stands. After a while, the road turned desolate—the only light the weak beams from the rental car, thick forest on either side of them.

“You weren’t kidding about this place being in the middle of nowhere,” Matt said, breaking the quiet.

Hank gave him a quick smile.

Matt reached for his phone. She seemed to know where she was going, but he thought he’d look up the hotel. She said it was on the beach, but they seemed to be heading into a rural area away from the ocean.

“Shit,” he said.

“What is it?” Hank looked at him, but turned her eyes quickly back to the dark road.

“My phone, I must’ve left it at the bar.” Matt searched his pockets, then dug through the duffel, yanking out his clothes and the newspaper Keller had given him. Without a phone, he’d be screwed.

He started looking around the car somewhat frantically. “Would you mind pulling over?”

Hank hesitated. “We’re almost there,” she said.

“Please,” he said.

Hank slowed the car and parked on the gravel shoulder.

She turned on the car’s interior lights as Matt opened the passenger door, stepped outside, and crouched low, looking on the floorboards and under the seat. Why was he such an idiot with phones?

He climbed back inside and sat next to Hank, defeated. He was about to ask her to take him back to the bar when he noticed she was staring intently at the New York Times story, studying the photos of Matt and his family.

Hank looked at him. “This is—wait—this is why you’re here? This is your family?”

Matt gave a tiny shrug.

She looked at the newspaper again and back at Matt. “Oh my god.” She had a faraway look in her eyes.

“Sorry,” Matt said. “I would’ve told you—I just didn’t want to put a damper on the night.”

She looked out at the lights approaching from down the long strip of road.

Something was different. It wasn’t pity or sadness.

It was panic.

She reached under her seat, then shoved something in his hand. A phone.

His phone.

“You took my … I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t sign up for this.” She looked up the road. The headlights were getting closer. “You need to get out,” she said.