“No. I mean I’ll go get Linnie, see if I can find her”—she shrugged—“if you want to lend me your truck.”

He stared. “Do you remember how to get there?”

She nodded.

His features sagged in relief. “Thank you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she heads to Caleb’s. He lives down the street from the old place. You’ll know which house is his. He and his housemates always have friends over Thursday nights. I’ll give Wren the heads-up, let her know I’ll be getting you home after Dad’s back from his class.” He rubbed his nape. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yeah.” No. Not really. But she’d rather look for Linnie than stay here with Kate.

9

MAGGIE LIKED DRIVING Sam’s truck—or more specifically, she liked driving it fast. Through the open window, the cold air, smelling like leaves, blew across her warm face. She sank into an electric mindlessness, a state she recognized as both an achievement and, aided by how fast she flew down Redman, the start of a good emotion. A rare one. Freedom.

She was getting away.

There was a clean emptiness to this place, a smoothness that made speeding easy. The cloudless sky poured stars all the way down to the flat fields. Without mountains or even hills to embellish the horizon, the lake country was like a hand splayed to palm the night.

When she neared Allenport, however, she lost the happy rush.

Her heart thudded faster; her skin prickled. Main Street was busy.

Stopped at a light, she glanced over at a busy café. Its windows framed a space filled with diners. On either side of the café stood bars, their windows inky except for the neon beer signs. Most of the shops were closed for the night. Outside Tin Tavern, a few people talked, and on the steps leading up to a tattoo parlor, four lanky guys sat and smoked—college students starting their weekend early, Maggie guessed. She wondered if Ran and the book club girls were out tonight. And she wondered about Jane Cannon. What’s she doing right now? How is she doing?

Maggie gripped the wheel tighter. She wished she could shake the guilt. The light changed, and she drove on, only to brake a few seconds later at the sight of a figure waiting on a corner. The woman hurried across the street, raising her hand in thanks. A streetlight illuminated her, the high cheekbones, the flash of red hair. She was young, younger than Maggie had first thought. Young and alone.

She drove on but glanced in the rearview mirror. When the girl got into the passenger side of an idling sedan, Maggie started breathing again.