“So now I am gonna need an answer. A clear yes or no. I need to know you heard what I was saying just now about rules and boundaries. I need to know that I can count on you to follow them. Can I do that, Beatrix? Can I trust you not to do anything crazy?”

“The phone’s mine,” I say, tensing up on my chair. “Whatever you need to say, leave her out—”

“Shh.” The man punctuates the hiss with a flick of the gun in my direction. The laughing, chummy jokester from a few minutes ago is long gone, discarded like a crumpled napkin. The bastard aims the gun at my daughter’s head, and I brace, half expecting the pop of a gunshot, the gritty smell of gunpowder.

But there’s nothing, only horrible quiet.

I breathe through a flash of scalding panic.

“Answer the question, Beatrix. Can I trust you or not?”

I nudge Beatrix’s chest with my elbow. Give her knee a painful squeeze. The tapping stops, and her fingers freeze, then stiffen on her thigh.

Beatrix, for the love of God. Say yes to the man with the gun. Answer him.

Beatrix’s chest heaves. Her hands ball into tight fists, her silent struggle obvious. This is Beatrix arming for combat. Planting her flag, sticking to her guns. The seconds stretch, swelling with a torturous silence. Even Bax leans across me to prod her with a finger in the arm.

“Beatrix, please,” I whisper. “Please.”

“Yeah.” She frowns at the cheese sticks sweating on the paper towels, the bunches of untouched grapes, and sighs. “You can trust me.” The I guess is silent but unmistakable.

The man straightens. Nods. Eats another grape, and that’s that.

I wilt with relief, even though I know my daughter, and I know she doesn’t mean a single word.

S E B A S T I A N

3:39 p.m.

That Beatrix kid is a trip. Sneaking the phone out of her mama’s bag, slipping it into those ruffly denim shorts. Like I wouldn’t notice the iPhone-sized lump in her pocket, or the way her freckles lit up like stars when she passed the thing to Jade. I’m not blind. I saw her hand move to her mama’s lap, how when it landed, Jade jerked to attention in her chair. I saw every bit of it.