Many hours later, Amy was stirred awake by an unusual hum of activity coming from outside. There was laughter, chatter, and, if she wasn’t mistaken, the rumble and beeping of trucks. Still half asleep, she rolled onto her side and rubbed her eyes, uncertain as to where she was. The lumpy mattress and spongy pillow told her she wasn’t at home, but it wasn’t until she blinked away the last remnants of sleep that she remembered she was in a hotel, in a town far from Portland.

Must be morning, she thought as she glimpsed a wedge of blue sky from behind the curtains.

Amy sat up at once and scrutinized the clock beside her bed, which seemed to confirm that it was in fact morning. But if that were true, if it really was morning, then that could mean only one thing—she had finally managed to get a full night’s sleep!

Admittedly she may have needed some pills to do it, but that didn’t matter because the results felt spectacular. Every part of her had been rejuvenated. Her head felt clearer, her heartrate seemed steady and calm, and even her stomach, which had been nigh on dormant for nearly a month, was growling with an urgent craving for food. Even the desperate pain she had felt for her mother the night before seemed oddly diminished. As ridiculous as it sounded, it was as though a miraculous and profound sense of renewal had taken place. Had she known to expect this sort of outcome, she would have raided her dad’s pills a great deal sooner!

Come to think of it—where was he?

Amy got out of bed and headed into the adjoining room, which she found strangely empty. His bag lay on the floor, untouched, as was the arrangement of the cushions on the couch, where he had said he was going to sleep. Puzzled by his absence, Amy reached for her phone and sent two text messages to him, five minutes apart, but both went unanswered. She tried placing a call but could only reach his voicemail. You’ve reached the phone of Kevin Tucker. Please leave your name and—