It wasn’t very art-reverent of her that she’d see it smashed to splinters by backing into suburban traffic outside a shitty little strip mall before she’d let Jonathan have it again.

She dropped the car into drive, revved the engine, and lurched up a few feet toward Jonathan’s car. She saw him jump back, unsure if she would plow it through or not.

Marcelline stopped hard and waved her arm at Carly, who stood frozen in the scene, shocked white and tear streaked in front of her stepfather. “Carly, go! Go!”

Marcelline wasn’t entirely convinced he wouldn’t run her over, if only in his race to catch up with the painting.

She shoved the gear selector to R and jammed her foot down over the accelerator. Her car shot backward, popped the curb with a horrible thud and clang. She fought the wheel over to point the nose off the sidewalk and ground the car back into drive.

Her last look into the parking lot showed Jonathan scrambling back into his seat and Carly, gape-mouthed, at Marcelline, seeing her suddenly out on the road and leaving her.

“Carly, run!”

She checked the mirror again as she roared away.

Carly did.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

She ran with not a question in her head as to where she would go.

Marcelline was out of sight, with John screeching off behind her before Carly was halfway across the parking lot. Owen’s car was a silver smudge as she passed it, and she hit the restaurant’s door, pulling up barely enough to keep from crashing right through the glass.

She flung it open, and every head snapped up to the urgent rush of her into the room.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Owen said.

She stopped herself, hands slapped onto the table as brakes.

“You have to help her.” Carly was gulping air.

“Would you like to have a seat?”

“No! We have to go! He’s chasing her!”

Owen turned toward the growing attention of the amazed staff behind the counter. “Would someone please bring her a Coke.” He swung back to Carly. “Clearly, we’re not going anywhere until you tell me what you think is going on.”

“He’s chasing her!”

“Stop yelling. And sit down.”

It felt weird to Carly that she had no inclination to do it. Her body didn’t betray her own judgment. Her legs weren’t trembling to fold into the seat just because he said so. Her hands didn’t want to fidget. She was freaking out and she was also fine.

Carly didn’t defy grown-ups and she didn’t hassle people, especially when she wanted them to do something. She wasn’t stupid. But she had exactly zero impulse to sit down at the moment. So she didn’t.