“Did he?”

“No.”

“She accepted his decision?”

“No, she didn’t,” Avery admitted. “She talked about running away as soon as the weather cleared. Then she got pregnant, after a series of miscarriages. She wasn’t in any position to leave with me, and I wouldn’t go on my own.”

“What specific events led to your escape?” Diaz asked.

“My mom went into labor that summer, a month before her due date. The midwife came to help. I knew something was wrong, but I wasn’t allowed in the room. I could hear her screaming.” She exhaled a ragged breath, blinking rapidly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “Take your time.”

After a short pause, she continued. “My stepfather slapped me for getting hysterical. He told me to pray for her, so I did. I prayed for hours.” She omitted the visit by Father Jeff, who’d attempted to console her in the creepiest manner possible. “When they finally let me see her, it was too late.”

Neither Richards nor Diaz expressed any condolences. Avery appreciated their silence while she regained her composure. Talking about her mother’s death hadn’t torn her apart as much as she’d expected, but she had a lot of practice holding her emotions at bay. She pushed past the pain in her chest and forced the words out. “I asked to be alone with her to say goodbye. Then I climbed out the window and started running. I thought I’d be killed if I got caught, but I didn’t care. Death seemed better than staying in the commune and marrying an old man. So I jumped the fence and ran into the woods, as far as I could. I didn’t have any food or water. I didn’t even have a jacket. I almost gave up the first night.”

“What kept you going?”

“Grief, I guess. Fear.” Tears flooded her eyes, finally. Proof that she had real emotions. “Also, I was lost. I couldn’t have found my way back if I wanted to.”

Diaz offered her his handkerchief. It was an ordinary gray pocket square, nothing fancy. Richards’s brow furrowed with disapproval, as if she thought he was overdoing the chivalry. Avery didn’t agree. Touched by the gesture, she accepted the square of fabric.

“Was there a road?”

“There was a dirt road, only accessible by SUVs. I stayed far away from it because I could hear them looking for me. I headed east, toward the sunrise. Then I followed a creek alongside the highway. If I saw a person, I’d hide.”

“What did you drink?”

“I stole a jug from a construction site and filled it up wherever I could.” She didn’t say what she’d eaten, because she couldn’t bear to think about it. “By the time I got to Oregon, I was starving. I raided Ruth’s garden one afternoon. I didn’t even wait until dark.”