There, Tully fell into bed, staring blearily up at her best friend. Now, with the room tumbling around her, she realized how stupid an idea this documentary was, how firmly she’d planted herself in harm’s way. She could be hurt . . . again. If only she had Kate’s life; then Tully wouldn’t have to take this risk.

“You’re so lucky,” she murmured, starting to fall asleep. “Johnny . . .” She meant to continue and the kids love you, but the words got tangled up in her head and before she could finish she was crying, and then she was asleep.

The next morning she woke with a blinding headache. It took her longer than usual to do her hair and makeup—and Johnny yelling at her to hurry didn’t help—but finally she was ready to go.

Johnny pulled Kate into a hug and kissed her. “It shouldn’t take more than two days,” he said in a voice so quiet Tully knew she wasn’t supposed to be able to hear. “We’ll be back before you can miss us.”

“It’ll feel like longer,” Kate said. “I already miss you.”

“Come on, Mommy,” Marah said sharply. “We need to go. Right, Aunt Tully?”

“Give your mom a kiss goodbye,” Johnny said.

Marah dutifully went to Kate and kissed her. Kate held her daughter until she started to squirm, then let her go.

Tully felt a clutch of jealousy at their intimacy; they were such a beautiful family.

Johnny led Marah out to the car and began loading their suitcases into the back.

Tully looked at Kate. “You’ll be here, right? In case I need to call?”

“I’m always here, Tully. That’s why they call it being an at-home mom.”

“Very funny.” Tully glanced down at her stuff. On top was a pile of notes she’d taken in the most recent phone conversation with her lawyer. It was a list of the last addresses they had for Cloud. “Okay, then. I’m out of here.” She grabbed her bag and went out to the car.

When they reached the end of the driveway, she twisted around in her seat.

There was Kate, still standing at the front door, with two little boys hanging on to her, waving goodbye.

Their first stop, only two hours later, was at a mobile home park in Fall City. Cloud’s last known address. But her mother had apparently moved out a week ago and no one yet had a forwarding address. The man they spoke to thought Cloud had moved to a campground in Issaquah.