Everything about my life was a series of those types of protections. Layers I put into place to disguise where I truly was. I hoped that when the facility released Michael, he would never guess that I was mere hours away. If he searched the trail I’d left, he’d find a bank account and mailbox in Charlotte. But I’d stayed in Washington. A state that didn’t require me to pay income tax. A state that helped me hide just a little better.

I pulled my keys out of my pocket and unlocked the Harbor box. The post office was forwarding the Dowds’ mail to Seattle, but there were already a few pieces for Brody. I tucked them under my arm and moved to my personal box. An array of items was inside. As I pulled out a violin catalog and a flyer, the edge of an envelope caught my eye.

Everest Juvenile Treatment Facility. The tips of my fingers began to tingle as I stared at the envelope. The sensation grew, traveling into my hands as the words on the paper started to blur. Breathe. I sucked in a ragged breath. I needed a touchstone. I patted for the stone I usually kept in my pocket, but it wasn’t there. I didn’t have any lavender. And I couldn’t hear the water.

Shakily, I closed the mailbox and made my way out of The Exchange. I focused on my steps, putting one foot in front of the other until I reached the beach. I sank to the rocky shore, barely registering the jolt to my spine. I stared out at the water as it rolled in and out. Listened to the sound of its power. A strength that would keep me safe.

I looked down at the envelope in my hands, the top of my stack of mail. I slipped a finger under the flap before I lost my nerve and tore away the paper. I unfolded the piece of cheap stationery.

Dear Ms. McCabe,

This letter is to inform you that Michael McCabe will be released from custody on January 21st. He will remain on parole until the entirety of his twenty-year sentence has passed. If you have any questions or concerns, please contact the program director or the State of Washington Parole Board.

There was no signature at the bottom of the letter, simply the facility name. I ran my gaze over the letter again as if I might be able to change its message if I stared hard enough. I squeezed my eyes closed.