“Me, too,” asserts Geneva.

Sara grabs my arm and forces me to stop and look at the two of them. I see four bright spots of fire looking back at me. They mirror my own. My heart swells with—well, with something.

Love: of course.

Pride: maybe.

Determination: without a fucking doubt.

Sara crosses her arms over her chest. “It wasn’t a question,” she says, mimicking my words with the tiniest hint of a smirk at the corner of her lip. “Either we’re coming with you, or I’m strapping your ass to a bed until Kolya gets home. Your call.”

Despite everything, I can’t help but smile. “Fine,” I say. “Let’s go.”

48

JUNE

It feels good to be on the move. It feels good to do something.

My plan would have to be ten times better before I’d call it half-formed. I have no idea if Dad will even agree to help me. And even if he wants to, I’m not sure he’ll have the means to.

But I’m done sitting and waiting to be saved.

So yeah—motion is good, in whatever form I can get it. But as we pull out of the drive and embark down the highway in search of a Hail Mary, the fire I felt back at the house begins to dim. Geneva and Sara are silent in their seats, and the only sound is the hum of the road under our wheels.

Until a siren scythes through.

I check my rearview mirror. Red and blue lights revolve on the top of a police cruiser closing down on us from behind. I slow to a stop at the side of the road, but my pulse is pounding like a warning drum.

Something’s out of place.

“Should we go back?” Geneva asks.

“I don’t think we can,” answers Sara. “Not until we see what he wants.”

I roll it down and look at the approaching officer innocently. His eyes are obscured behind mirrored aviator lenses, his cheeks scabbed over with three or four days’ worth of beard. With the just-rising sun lighting him up from behind, he’s mostly silhouette.

But that’s not what’s bothering me. What’s bothering me is the scent of patchouli oil dancing in and out of my nostrils. It’s there and then it’s gone again, vaguely familiar like a word on the tip of your tongue.

What is that smell from?

“Little early to be driving around so fast, isn’t it, ladies?” the officer asks, giving me a smile that makes me want to lean away from him.

I shrug. “We’re all early birds. Is there a problem?”

“There’s been some complaints of disturbances in the area,” he says. “So we’re just doing random checks, making sure everything is okay.”

That strikes me as odd, especially given the hour, but I just smile and nod.

“I’m gonna need to see some ID,” he continues. “From all three of you.”

My stranger danger radar is tingling. Apparently, so is Sara’s, because she leans in towards me to address the policeman. “Is that really necessary, sir?”