Even though they were already far east of Nashville there was a large display of souvenirs of the city: the skyline in a snow globe, a guitar-shaped flyswatter. Pots of coffee on a big silver machine beside green hot dogs that rolled around on metal cylinders, a silver pan of sausage and biscuits wrapped in wax paper tinged pink by the glowing heat lamps above. A whole aisle was stocked with rice, salsa, tortillas, and hominy for the migrant workers who bent over in the fields all day, plucking tomatoes.

Over a shelf of Bunny Bread Asher watched the little television. The newscasters segued easily from the terrorist attack in Munich to news of a heat wave moving into the Eastern Seaboard. At any minute pictures of them could pop up on that television.

Asher turned down an aisle to find Justin crouched at the end, leaning into a small cell phone. The phone was tucked inside a blinged-out case with fake diamonds and rubies studding the back and a small rainbow sticker resting beneath Justin’s finger.

“I’m with Dad and we’re okay. He’ll take good care of me.” Justin clicked off the phone and slid it behind several packs of Pampers, then turned and saw his father.

“Justin,” Asher said. “What have you done?”

“I had to call her.” Justin was clutching snack cakes and cookies to his chest as if caught with stolen goods. “Please don’t be mad at me. Maybe since I called her she won’t send the police.”

“She will, Justin. She will, and now they’ll know where we are.” Asher tried to keep his voice calm. But now they had to hurry and get out of here. He didn’t know whether he should feel betrayed or assisted. There was no time to study on this. “Where’d you get that phone?” His whisper was harsh.

“That lady must have left it laying back here.”

“Come on,” Asher said.

Justin struggled to unload his bounty on the high counter: two honey buns (one frosted), two packs of pecan twirls, a bag of Bugles, and a plastic cup of Nutter Butters.

“Got everything, now?” Asher tried to think what was normal conversation for the cashier’s ears. He felt sick from the knowledge that Justin had called his mother. “We won’t be stopping for a while.”

The cashier peeked over the large cash register at Justin. “Oh Lordy, he got all the good stuff,” she said, giggling, her accent like a little song. A red rectangle of plastic pinned to her orange smock was printed with her name: adalia.