When I handed her the bag, she smiled at the weight of it, showing me again the oval of rot between her front teeth. It was striated like an agate, a darkness that deepened in concentric circles, telling me there was a lack of money or a lack of love or both in this child’s life.

“Thank you!” she said.

Marshall started forward, but I didn’t. Trey was back in the driver’s seat, the engine running, but we were still ahead of schedule. This girl, she could have been Lexie thirty years ago. She was only three or four years older than Anna-Claire.

“Do you have someplace to sleep tonight?” I asked, and Marshall stopped, waiting for me.

She shook her head. “I could get a bed at this shelter I know, if I had twelve dollars.” She looked at me, hopeful and guarded, pressing her lips together.

I opened my wallet and pulled out all the cash I had, seven or eight bills. I had no idea how much. I handed it to her, and it felt like some kind of offering. She was an altar. I wished I had more.

I could feel all the things that Marshall wasn’t saying, but he held his peace.

“Thank you,” she said again, blinking very fast. The money disappeared into her pocket quickly, as if she was afraid I’d change my mind.

“Take care of yourself,” I told her.

We got back into the car. Trey seemed about to say something, but he got one look at my face and put us in drive and headed out. I grabbed his hand again.

With every passing mile, I could feel us getting closer to Coral Lee Pine. I could feel her waiting. Our strange connection crackled, as slim as a filament but strong and live with current. I wondered if she sensed me coming as well, catching the ozone smell of our shared electricity rising in the wind.

The roads were old, and the closer we got, the worse they became. My SUV shuddered and jolted over the pitted, ash-gray asphalt. My cell phone lost its signal.

Ten minutes out Marshall opened his seat belt and lay down across the floorboards. Trey was driving, so I unclipped mine as well and leaned between the seats to help cover him with the blankets. The Escalade had a flat floor with a good amount of legroom, but long, tall Marshall still had to lie half on his back, half on his side, his knees at an awkward angle.

As I layered the blankets over his body, making sure his feet were covered, I felt as if I were tucking him in. His eyes met mine, determined, encouraging. I touched his cheek and nodded, though he hadn’t said a thing. I pulled the covers over his face.