“I figured not.” Edie’s brow scrunched. “Where do you come from? After L.A., I mean.”

“North of here,” he said vaguely, because, in truth, he had no idea. “If I want to get a phone like that, how would I go about it?”

She gave him a long, hard look, then turned to Abigail. “Where’s your mommy, sweetheart?”

Abigail didn’t look up from her coloring. “In heaven,” she answered, matter-of-factly. “My papa takes care of me.”

“Her mother died in childbirth,” Amos said softly.

Edie’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I just . . . well, I need to know that she’s really yours. That you didn’t just grab her from the mall or something.”

He stared at her, angry for a moment, and then he remembered the stranger dangers of the mall and felt a swell of gratitude. And relief, because even though Abigail had her mother’s gray eyes, she had his dark hair and one other identifying feature. “Abi-girl, can you show Miss Edie your birthmark?”

“I have a birthmark here,” Abigail said, setting the crayon down to tug the collar of her dress aside and point to the little red dot. “Papa has one, too.”

Amos mimicked Abigail’s action, showing Edie his identical mark, then rubbed at it with his thumb to show her that it was part of his skin. “She’s my daughter.”

“I’m sorry,” Edie said. “I needed to ask.”

“It’s perfectly fine. I’m glad you’re so conscientious.” He hesitated, then sighed. “We left our home last night. The community no longer . . . held appeal.”

Edie’s expression changed, wary once again. “The community. Like a cult?”

Goodness. For a moment, Amos could only blink. How had she guessed? His shock must have shown, because Edie nodded grimly.

“I’ve read about this,” she said. “People leaving when the cult endangered their children. Is that what happened to you . . . Sorry. I don’t know your name.”

“He’s called Brother Amos,” Abigail chirped. “I’m Abigail.”

Amos opened his mouth to reprimand her, then sighed. “Yes. I’m Amos, but not Brother. Not anymore.” Never again. “And . . . yes, to your other question.” He glanced meaningfully at Abigail, then met Edie’s eyes, hoping she’d understand. Yes, my child is in danger.

Edie drew a breath. “Well, then. A phone. You can get one at Walmart. You know about Walmart?”

“I remember the store, yes, but I’ve never been to one.”

Edie shook her head. “You’re in for a wild adventure, Amos.”

“It’s already started,” Amos said. “How much money does a phone cost at Walmart?”

“At least fifty dollars. Plus you have to pay for a plan.”

Amos winced. Buying a phone would make a huge dent in the cash that he’d brought with him. And the truck needed gasoline. He’d nearly fainted at the prices on the gas station signs. “That’s a lot of money. And then I need to buy a . . . plan?” What did that mean? “And then I can find a telephone book?”