“I’m bringing him,” Ash said, almost hoping Nate would stop her or tell her to stay. He didn’t, patting Freud on the head. “C’mon, buddy, you ready for an adventure?”

In some ways having Freud with her made Ash feel closer to Becca, or maybe that was just her shitty justification. She tossed in a few changes of clothes into a duffel bag, an album of her favorite photos along with the insanely expensive digital camera Becca bought her for Christmas. She took one last look at her beautiful room with the teal bedding and matching curtains, the framed photos and scented candles Becca filled every room with, wishing that things were different. That she hadn’t screwed it all up.

It was nearing dawn when they finally reached Sunset Boulevard near Hollywood.

“I need to stop,” Ash said, her breathing labored, her sides aching.

“Let’s rest here,” Nate said, crouching beside an old gray Honda Accord, breathing heavily, clearly weighed down by his backpack and guitar case. He was uneasy, as though they were under surveillance, his eyes scanning the empty streets, on high alert, searching for an unseen enemy. A wet nose nudged Ash and she saw Freud anxiously awaiting instructions.

“We’re okay. We’ll be okay,” Ash said, trying to reassure Freud, and herself.

Nate reached for Ash’s hand. “Hey, we’re gonna be okay. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. Of course,” Ash said. Previous experience taught her things were usually the opposite of okay, but Nate was trying. Ash needed to do the same. “I’m good. Let’s keep going,” she said.

They made their way to a grimy Internet café in a run-down strip mall a few blocks from Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. Before she met Becca, this was one of Ash’s favorite spots. She came for the cheap coffee, free air-conditioning, and unlimited Wi-Fi. She told herself the odds were slim that the Tribe would find them here. She told herself they probably weren’t even looking. Nate took a seat at a table, Freud sinking down onto the floor beside him while Ash went to order.

“Two black coffees and the Wi-Fi code,” Ash said to the barista.

The strung out clerk glanced at Freud. “Not supposed to have animals in here,” she said half-heartedly.

“He’s a therapy dog,” Ash said, preparing to launch into an explanation of the legalities of service animals. The girl just shrugged, and handed Becca her order.

She delivered Nate’s coffee and set up camp at one of the computer stations. She’d already turned off her phone in case Becca tried to track her. She logged onto the Internet and did a search for the Greyhound bus schedules and departure times. There were two buses leaving LA and arriving in Las Cruces. One at nine thirty, which they wouldn’t make if they were going to pawn the jewelry, and another at six o’clock. The first half of their journey would take thirteen hours. They’d transfer in Santa Fe and travel twenty-one hours before finally reaching Taos. Now that Ash knew when they were leaving, she focused on the pawnshop plan, printing out a list of the closest pawnshops. The plan was simple. Sell their shit and get the hell out of town.