The bad men are coming. The bad men are looking for you. The bad men have found you. The bad men are coming. Are coming. Are coming. “Let’s go!” she called to Katie and Morgan, trying to delete the panic from her voice. “Time to go, girls. Now. Right now. Morgan? Katie? Right now.”

Back in the Acura Alexa said, “Change of plans. We’re going back to our house, Morgs.” They had to be safer at their house than at the Griffins’. Right? Right? Especially with the Jeep gone.

“But we had the movie paused at Katie’s house!” protested Morgan.

The lie slid out. “Sorry. Katie’s mom texted to see if I could take you both back to our house. I guess the party might go later than they thought.”

“I’m not surprised by that,” said Morgan philosophically. To Katie she said, “Brooke’s parties always go really late. Brooke’s parties are crazy.”

“Why do you know that?” asked Alexa.

Morgan shrugged. “People talk.”

Understatement of the century, thought Alexa.

“Katie, you’re spending the night,” said Alexa. She pulled out onto Route 1 and then took the traffic circle back toward town, looking in the rearview mirror every two seconds.

“I am?” said Katie. “I didn’t bring my stuff. Can we go back to my house to get my stuff?”

Before too long they were almost at Alexa and Morgan’s house. The traffic on High Street was moving normally, no black SUVs were stopped in front of the house, but all of Alexa’s organs felt like they were jumping. She said, “You can borrow some of Morgan’s things to sleep in. It’ll be more fun here, I promise. And maybe you guys can swim later.” Two truths, one lie. No way was she letting them outside, and certainly not in the pool.

Katie looked dubious. Morgan was about three sizes smaller than Katie.

“Or mine,” said Alexa, and in the rearview mirror she saw Katie brighten. Why the hell not? She pulled into the driveway, and said, “Everybody out.”

Once the girls were inside Alexa locked the door, installed Morgan and Katie in front of the television and told them they could re-rent the movie and fast-forward until they got to the part where they’d left off. She said she’d make popcorn, and she was rummaging through the pantry for the jar when the doorbell rang.

Never until that moment had she truly understood the meaning of the phrase “jumping out of your skin.”

Shouldn’t she let someone know what was going on, in case something bad actually did happen? Shouldn’t she let Sherri know? Alexa was responsible for two young girls, and they were in danger.