I know what that’s like. I’ve let down my parents more times than I can count, and a man like the Sheriff probably isn’t as nice about failure. Clay’s answer is not great, but we need him. I walk to the edge of the shadows and look down the road that has once again plunged into silence. “Coast’s clear. We should go.”

Clay gives me a tentative smile and then steps beside me. “I won’t let you down.”

I don’t turn. It’s enough that he’s so close I can hear him breathing.

We jog in the shadows of the sleepy houses. We skirt around Sheriff Tate’s white picket fence. My eyes lift to the dark windows of the house. What will Clay leave behind?

When we reach the high wooden stockade at the back of the Sheriff’s yard, Clay runs his hands along the solid wooden structure as if searching for something. He must find what he’s looking for because he stops and beings working an object in his hands. Metal glints in the moonlight, a tiny padlock. He spins the combination like he’s done it a hundred times. He pops the lock and the little door opens, notched so neatly into the wood that no seams show. I would never have known it was there. We slip through to the other side of the fence. There’s our Jeep, idling with the lights off. In the driver seat, Ethan can barely see over the dash, but he’s never looked prouder of himself. Arn taught him to drive the Jeep around the yard, but how in the world did he get out of the front gate and around back? There’s no time to ask.

I grab the dented driver’s side door and yank it open. “Move over.”

Ethan pouts. “Ah, man. I wanna drive.”

“I should drive,” Clay says over my shoulder.

“No chance.” I turn back to Ethan. “Move before they start shooting.”

“Where’s Mama and Auntie?” he asks, as he scrambles into the backseat.

“Auntie’s fine, but wants to stay. We’re going to get Mama.”

Ethan eyes me, but doesn’t ask.

I jump in and Clay slides in the passenger seat, his face pale and slack.

“You sure you want to do this?” I ask.

He nods, but keeps his eyes on the dashboard. He doesn’t look back when I pull away from the wall.

The only thing that marks our exit is crunching gravel. We take the two-lane highway out of town. I drive with white knuckles, expecting headlights to appear behind us any second. It’s a half-hour before my shoulders relax.

Hitting the open road with the night air in my face makes me feel a bit better. I glance at my two traveling companions. Ethan sits in the back, his head lolling from side to side, fighting sleep. Clay’s scanning the pitted black top, his mouth twisted down, deep in thought. It dawns on me that all three of us are driving away from all we’ve ever known.