“I don’t … know.”

“You can’t just drive around.”

She was right. I thought for a moment. “My … house.”

“What house?”

I waved her off.

“What house?”

“Where I grew up.”

“You grew up here?”

I nodded.

“Does Mr. Whitman know it?”

“Donatti,” I told her. “Mr. Donatti.”

The burner rang. Juleen put the cell on speaker and answered the phone. “Hello?”

I heard my ex’s voice. “Terry?”

It wasn’t the first time Juleen and I had been mistaken for each other over the phone. Our voices sounded alike. “I’m … here,” I whispered.

Chris said, “What’s going on?”

I started to cry and so did Juleen. She said, “They beat her up.”

“Where are you?”

“Valley,” I answered.

“Where in the Valley?”

“She’s driving to her house where she grew up,” Juleen answered.

“She’s driving?”

“Do you know where her old house is?”

“Yes, I know where it is. Don’t go there—”

His phone cut out. Juleen called him back, but it went to voice mail.

The sun was beginning to go down, and soon we’d be under the cover of darkness. We were about a mile away from the apartment we were renting but four miles away from my old house. My one good eye was starting to close up. I knew if I didn’t get there soon, I wouldn’t be able to drive at all. My head was exploding with pain, and I was getting very sleepy. I decided to head in the direction of my old high school—a common landmark for Chris and me. I kept shaking my head to stay awake. Each time I did that, bolts of lightning and thunder clapped inside my brain.

The burner sprang to life. Juleen answered. “We’re on speaker, Mr. Donatti.”

“Terry, are you there?”

“Hi, Chris.”

“Terry, listen to me. Are you physically able to drive?”

I didn’t answer.

“Terry?”

“Yes.” For the moment.

“Don’t go to your old house, babe. If I were looking for you, that’s one of the places where I’d camp out. Do you remember where I used to live?”

“Yes.”

“Go there. It’s on Jasper—8246 … no, 8446 …”

“8226,” I told him.

“Your beat-up brain is working better than mine. Can you make it there?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. I’ll meet you in a couple of hours. Probably less. I’ll blink the headlights twice, then pause and blink them twice again, so you’ll know it’s me. You blink back. Do not leave the car for any reason. I’ll come to you.”

“Okay.”

“Juleen, do not let her fall asleep under any circumstances. Can I trust you to do that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’ll see you later.”

After he hung up, Juleen said, “Can you drive, Mommy?”

“Yes.” Sort of. “I’m … okay.”