He understands. There’s a peril in my saying goodbye, an utter undoing that would resign me to surrender and worse. I’d be useless to Evelien, and all would be for nothing.

At barest minimum, however, I need to ensure this:

“Swear to me, Willem, that he…that you’ll…” I’m incapable of finishing.

“I swear it,” he says, a vow to lay Arie properly to rest.

I nod, trying to relay gratitude in a glance. Then with Evelien in my arms, steeling myself, I push past the door that Willem immediately shuts. The sealing of a tomb.

Once more, there’s no going back.

Chapter 77

At the rear of what resembles a large milk truck, I lift Evelien inside and climb in after her. Brouwer closes the door immediately behind us. Visibility dims but slightly, maintaining light from the windshield up front.

I trail Brouwer around piled cargo to reach the crate, our sketch brought to life. Marked as fragile and heavy and appearing too small to hide a person, it sits secretly bolted atop boards fastened in a stack. Their fresh-lumber scent permeates the space. Surrounding cases, several stamped BRANDY in German and BRANDEWIJN in Dutch, serve as diversionary props.

With the crate lid set aside, Brouwer pulls out objects shaped like vases and small sculptures, all wrapped in white fabric, along with cushioning dunnage, to reach the false bottom. Below this lies the rectangular compartment that will deliver Evelien to safety.

But first…

First, she needs to be prepared.

Limited in time, I reorder my thoughts, focusing strictly on what’s ahead. As she rubs her eyes, I conjure a mask of normalcy and kneel before her. I nearly forget to speak Dutch. “For our trip…there have been some changes.”

A tiny crease splits her brow, and her gaze raises to mine. “Will there still be animals?”

I hesitate, but then I think of the array of pets kept at the inn in Beaconsfield. “There will. And there are fields to run around in too. But to get there requires”—words from last night float back—“playing a game. Like hide-and-seek. Remember?”

She bobs her head yes. But will her agreement last the whole trip?

I recall a reliable incentive. “On the drive, if you’re again quiet as a mouse, I’ll let you keep the magic button as your own. Would you like that?”

She considers this and nods again.

Brouwer announces, “It is ready.” He holds the false bottom at an upright angle, antsy to depart.

I peek inside. The exposed sidecar-like entry is just as we designed.

“All right, then,” I say to Evelien. “Up we go.” By her sides, I easily swoop her into the crate. I instruct her to slide into the compartment, but she merely clutches her doll. “Not to worry. The ride isn’t all that long. And I’ll be just up there”—I indicate the passenger seat—“close by the entire time.”