Brouwer interjects, startled. “You won’t be hiding with her?”

“Well…no.” It occurs to me he didn’t even know I was coming until he arrived; there had been no opportunity to share. “That is, I figure I’d ride along as a secretary, or perhaps a curator of sorts.”

“But this is out of the question.”

I’m about to assure him that I, specifically, am not being hunted, for now anyway, when he explains, “We cannot put the child in alone. At the checkpoints, a single peep will compromise us all.”

Oh gosh. The reason, naturally, is sound, one I’d surely have contemplated in any other circumstance. Not that it would change my body’s reaction now. The mere prospect of lying in the compartment, dark and enclosed, triggers a hollowness in my chest.

I scrounge for an alternative. “She can join me up front. I could be a niece of yours and she my daughter. Or a friend’s daughter—”

Before I’m even done, he rules with a shake of his head.

“But she has papers,” I insist.

“If she is known to be missing, it is still too risky, at least in the city.”

Of course, there is no if. Her absence is well established.

Once more, I survey the wooden compartment suddenly reminiscent of a coffin, and the air steeply thickens. “There must be another way.”

He appears less frustrated than befuddled. “The specifications of the compartment, they are just as you requested.”

True. Though they were never intended for me.

“In small spaces, I–I just can’t.”

He seems to grasp the gist. Though when he exhales, it’s laden with regret. “I deeply apologize, but you must ride inside with her. I cannot do this otherwise.”

Every additional day that we stay, every hour, escalates our danger. And besides, going back into the building isn’t an option.

Evelien chimes in with her small voice. “Is my uncle coming?”

The question slices through me, sudden and biting as a winter gale. I fight to keep steady. Centering on the apprehension in her eyes, I muster through only what’s necessary. “He dearly wanted to. But I’m here. I’m here to protect you.”

As the words leave my mouth, I’m reminded of my duty. My promise to Arie.

My final one.

Brouwer presses gently, “We could gather again later, to formulate a new plan—”

“No.”

He blinks, uncertain, and I meet his eyes.

“I’ll get inside.”

Denying myself even a second to reconsider, I climb into the crate with Evelien. My breaths shorten as I step into the opening. Foreseeing the darkness ahead, I yearn for my lipstick light. Now gone. I turn to Brouwer. “A flashlight, do you have one?”

He thinks. “Nothing here,” he says. More regret.

I can do this, can’t I?

Oh, what if I can’t?

A response emerges in my head: It is okay, schatje. It is okay.