Nealy pounded with her fist. “Open the door right now!”

“Go away!”

“Do what I say. Open up!”

Through the window she could see that Lucy looked furious and determined, even as tears ran down her cheeks.

“Lucy, I mean it! If you don’t do what I say, you’re going to be in so much trouble.”

“I’m already in trouble.”

She strained to see if Button was all right. “You could have been killed! Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m getting a job! And we’re going to live in Mabel! And you can’t stop me!”

Button began to cry.

Toni pushed past Nealy and gave the door a hard rap. “Open up, Lucy. FBI.”

Lucy bit her fingernails and looked straight ahead.

Toni raised her voice. “If you don’t open the door, I’m going to instruct Agent Williams to shoot out all the tires, and then shoot you.”

Jason stared at her. She lowered her voice to Nealy. “Teenagers see so many government conspiracy movies, they always believe the worst.”

But not this teenager. “What kind of moron do you think I am?”

Nealy’d had enough. “Open up, Luce, or I’ll shoot you myself! I mean it!”

There was a long silence. Finally Lucy seemed to realize she wasn’t going anywhere. She bit her fingernails, looked at Nealy through the window. “Promise you won’t tell Mat.”

“I’m not promising a thing.”

Button’s screams grew louder.

Slowly . . . very slowly . . . Lucy dragged herself from behind the wheel and released the door latch.

Nealy rushed in, lifted her hand, and smacked her on the side of the head.

“Hey!”

She pulled her hard against her breast. “You scared the life out of me.”

“MA!” Button squawked.

As Nealy clutched Lucy and gazed at the irate baby, she knew she’d reached one more crossroad in her life.

There was no sign of the dark blue Taurus. The space in front of the garage that held the motor home was empty. And Nealy was gone.

Mat had already searched the house for clues, but what he’d found—Nealy’s satchel partially packed with her clothes—didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know.

His fear was growing by the minute. Something was very wrong. The girls should have been back by now, the motor home should be here, and Nealy—

He heard a car door slam and raced to the front porch in time to see her emerge from the passenger side of the Taurus. He didn’t mean to yell, but he heard himself do it anyway.

“Are you all right? Where have you been?” He rounded on the Secret Service agent who was standing next to her. “What happened? Have you been hassling her?” He didn’t wait for the guy to answer, but confronted Nealy again. “Where’s the motor home? Where are the girls?”