It was only one night while watching Bay sleep, crying quietly and wondering how she was going to keep her child safe when they were in danger if they stayed and in danger if they left, that it suddenly made sense.

She’d been smelling home.

They had to go home.

She and Bay walked silently downstairs in the predawn dark. Susan next door could see both the front and back doors, so they went to the window in the living room that overlooked the small strip of side yard that Susan couldn’t see. Sydney had earlier popped out the screen, so all she had to do was quietly open the window and lower Bay out first. Next she tossed down her tote bag, another suitcase she’d packed, and Bay’s small backpack, which she’d let Bay pack on her own, full of secret things that brought her comfort. Sydney crawled out and led Bay through the hydrangea bushes and into the parking lot by their house. Greta from the park said she was going to leave the Subaru in front of the 100 block of town houses one street over. She was going to put the keys above the visor. No insurance and a dead tag, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it would get them away.

It was drizzling as she and Bay jogged along the sidewalk, skirting the shine of the streetlights.

Sydney’s bangs were dripping into her eyes when they finally stopped at the 100 block of town houses. Her eyes darted around. Where was it? She left Bay and ran up and down the parking lot. There was only one Subaru, but it was too nice to be worth only three hundred dollars. It was locked too, and there were papers and an Eddie Bauer coffee mug inside. It belonged to someone else.

She ran around the parking lot again. She checked one street over, just to be sure.

It wasn’t there.

She ran back to Bay, out of breath, appalled that her panic made her leave her daughter even for a minute. She was getting sloppy, and she couldn’t do that. Not now. She sat on the curb between a Honda and a Ford truck and buried her face in her hands. All that courage wasted. How could she take Bay back, back to the way things were? Sydney couldn’t, wouldn’t, be Cindy Watkins anymore.

Bay came to sit close beside her, and Sydney wrapped an arm around her.

“It will be okay, Mommy.”

“I know it will. Let’s just sit here for a minute, okay? Let Mommy figure out what to do.”

At four in the morning, the parking lot was quiet, which was why Sydney jerked her head up when she heard a car approaching. She scooted Bay over as close to the pickup as possible to avoid detection. What if it was Susan? What if she’d told David?

The lights from the car slowly approached, as if searching for something. Sydney shielded Bay and closed her eyes, as if that would help.