Aunt Vesa turned to me. Looked at me. It was as if she was trying to crawl into the closet toward me, take my hand, comfort me.

Then you came here, Zana. Showed up out of nowhere. Eleven years later. You started asking questions about the name Lilaj, and the ones who shouldn’t know soon found out—one daughter had survived. A witness. She also had to be killed.

It didn’t turn out that way. I killed your would-be murderer instead.

And so that’s why we’re sitting here, in my car, in the darkness, driving down back roads, fleeing.

—

She held one of both of the boys’ hands as they walked out of the air raid shelter and through the dark basement. Rasmus was on one side, Hugo on the other, still with his little sister in his arms, he refused to let go of her.

“Amelia, is that your name?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re really a police officer?”

“Almost. I’m still learning, but I will be soon.”

“And how could you . . . how did you know we . . . ?”

“You have a lot of questions, Rasmus.”

“Yes. And I want to . . .”

“First let’s go see your mom. Then you can ask me more questions.”

Zofia Hoffmann met them in the hall, her arms held wide for a hug as they stepped inside. She’d done her best to wash away the blood on her forehead and face. Don’t worry the kids. When all four were united in a giant hug, they made a vision of love and security, and the person watching felt happy to see it, but also a little sad that she couldn’t share in it.

But after a while Zofia looked up at her and smiled with heartfelt warmth.

“Thank you.”

—

We drove all night, and as morning came we rolled into the streets of Pristina. Aunt Vesa had managed to get ahold of one of my father’s former smuggling partners, and we were able to hide out in his house temporarily. A good man around the age my father would have been. He had small, sharp eyes that reminded me of a bird, thin gold rings in his ears, and a substantial birthmark on his neck. He spoke so kindly about us, showed pictures of me as an infant on his knee, and one of him and Dad standing in front of a truck while making some weapons delivery, their arms slung proudly around each other’s shoulders.