“Fen, look.” He dives in before I’m able. “I appreciate your coming all this way—to Holland, I mean—and what you’ve done to try and help. But I can’t have you ending up like the others. So I’m telling you once more: take the train, meet your contact, then stick with a guide to get you home.” A degree of aggravation belies his message, my own emotions similarly at odds.

“I first need you to hear me out.”

He expels a breath. “Please—not now.” His tone is beseeching. “Yesterday, I shared a lot more with you than I’d ever planned. I’m sorry if it came out harsh, but I can’t think about any of that today.”

“Believe me,” I tell him. “That’s not why I’m here.”

Although he quiets, morning light slipping past the curtain accentuates his still-tense jaw, speckled with shaving cream missed by his razor.

“I have an idea, specifically about transporting you and Evelien to safety.”

He barely prevents a roll of his eyes. “I told you already. We can’t go back to London.”

“I’m talking about out of the city. To the farm. Only it could be in a fraction of the time it would take on foot, and without you dodging patrollers and checkpoints along the way.”

Interest can’t help but seep into his demeanor.

He just as soon shoves it down. “We’re good as we are.”

“Arie, she’s a little girl—I assume with little legs. Any area around Gouda has to be, what…nine, ten hours away. And I’m guessing that’s a straight shot. Are you planning to carry her there?”

“If I have to? Absolutely.”

“While loaded up with enough food and water?”

“I’ll pinch a bike if I need to.”

“And what if you have to keep stopping, even camping out to avoid getting caught?”

With a slight hitch, he states, “I’ll figure it out.”

“Good grief, you’re being stubborn.” I add in a mutter, “And you call me a mule.”

He yanks his hands from his pockets with fingers curled. Before his temper can further rally, I leap to the point. “The Brouwers.”

The name hits him like a wall. Then molten steel enters his gaze and drips into his voice. “What about them?”

I wouldn’t mention them unless wholly necessary, so he knows to keep listening.

“I was up last night thinking about Thea.” After my nightmare, I had ample opportunity. “And I still couldn’t make sense of it. Why would the Brouwers, after all this time, just suddenly turn the families in?”

He contemplates a mere instant. “Who cares why? I was there. The woman called them ‘dirty Jews.’ Said they forced themselves into the house.”