I searched for something to say. "We'll know more about Salvation tomorrow. We shouldn't jump to conclusions."

"You really believe that?"

He took a step toward the house, but I stopped him, wanting a few more minutes alone. "Why Laramie?" I asked.

Luke's gaze darted away from me. "There's a man who can help us."

"Yeah, who?"

"Someone Barnabas knew."

"And he's supposed to help us do what? Because you're insane if you think we should go all the way to D.C. right now."

Luke didn't answer.

"That's what you think, right? The feds didn't stop us on the way to Pocatello so you think it'll be easy. We're risking our lives if we try going across the entire country to find Maggie's contact."

"And you think the solution is to hightail it to Canada," he shot back. "Well, I'm not leaving my country. And you shouldn't, either."

My breath caught at the growl in his voice. I hardly knew Luke, but this didn't feel even remotely like him.

"Okay, so what do you think this man-"

"Not out here," he said. He flicked his eyes at the neighbor's house and reached for my arm to take me inside.

A face peered at us from the neighbor's window and this time I noticed the large lead-colored gla.s.ses like a pair of binoculars trained right on us. I hoped Harris found us a ride even if it meant going to Laramie. At least that would take us closer to the border crossing in Detroit.

5.

The evening news was on when Luke and I walked in the house. Vera guarded a frying pan on the stove, metal tongs in her hand.

"Anything more about Salvation?" Luke said.

"Not yet. Why don't you wash up? I'll call you if there is."

Luke ducked into the bathroom, and I lingered by the table, where chicken legs were stacked on a plate, ready to be dipped in b.u.t.termilk and rolled in corn flakes. "Can I help?"

"That would be nice."

Vera tended the frying pan while I dunked and coated the chicken legs. The lead news story was Congress' new Open Arms policy: an invitation to women from foreign countries who speak fluent English to come to the U.S., surrender their foreign pa.s.sports, and receive automatic citizenship.

"Open Arms, now that's interesting," Vera said, waving her tongs at the screen. "What do you think about that?"

"I think it sounds like a way to get women to come here and prevent them from ever leaving." I speared a drumstick on a fork. "Sorry, I don't have much faith in politicians anymore."

"You don't need to apologize to me. I bet you're right. I'll be interested to hear what Radio Free America says about it later tonight. Those Canadian reporters always seem to know things about the U.S. that folks here don't."

"Really? Like what?"

A familiar face popped up on the screen. The air emptied from my lungs, and I dropped the leg I was holding. b.u.t.termilk splashed across the table.

Jessop Hawkins sat in an armchair across from an interviewer. Hawkins was bent forward, his hands clasped as if a PR person had briefed him on how to look concerned.

"Do you know him?" Vera said.

"He owns my Contract."

"That's the man you were supposed to marry?"

I hadn't seen Hawkins since I'd left L.A. But even if his highly paid PR consultants coached him on how to act caring and distressed, they couldn't change how his eyes were the color of cold, rust-stained cement.

"Aveline is a victim in this tragic story," Hawkins said. "She's like many girls, young and nave, who put their trust in someone who then takes advantage of them."

"So you contend that Aveline, who is currently wanted for treason-"

A shiver shook my shoulders.

"Aveline is not a traitor! She was kidnapped by a member of Exodus and brainwashed into becoming an active member of the organization."

"You're referring to the young man currently in police custody."

I edged closer to the TV. "No, Yates-"

"Yes," Hawkins answered. "Yates Sandell."

My temples began to throb. I shouldn't have left him.

"But as I understand it, Sandell's not talking," the newscaster said.

"He's critically ill, but the doctors expect him to recover."

"Meanwhile," the newscaster said, "despite evidence that points to your fiancee as a willing partic.i.p.ant in the shootout with federal agents, you believe that charges against her should be dropped."

"Aveline is an innocent, and she needs to be found and returned home. I promise you the truth will come out and her name will be cleared."

"And you've offered a $250,000 reward for information leading to her return."

Return? Don't you mean capture? I began to feel floaty, disconnected.

"Yes. Here's the hotline: 1-800-AVE-LINE."

I wrapped my arms across my chest as the number scrolled across the screen. "Oh my G.o.d."

Vera guided me onto a chair. "Come on now. Lean over. Head between your knees. Yes, good girl." She rubbed a circle on my back. "You don't look anything like that picture. Not now with your new hairdo."

"Some might say, Mr. Hawkins, that your search for Aveline is actually an attempt to clear your campaign of the scandal a.s.sociated with your fiancee's actions."

"I understand that people doubt my motives for defending Aveline, but what happened to her could happen to any young woman in America. This is why Paternalists fight to protect young women, because any girl can become a victim."

"Well, thank you for talking to us this evening, Mr. Hawkins-"

Vera snapped off the TV, and a few seconds later I heard her bang the drapes shut in the living room.

Luke stepped into the kitchen. "What's going on?" When I didn't answer, he bent over until he was looking me in the face. "What happened?"

"They've got Yates," I said, shaking my head. "Why didn't I stay with him?"

"You couldn't have saved him."

"But I left to save myself."

"No. You left because I dragged you out of there."

Vera tapped him on the shoulder. "Avie, why don't you go lie down. Luke can help me in here."

Luke stepped aside to let me by. I was still in the hall when I heard Vera say, "You're pushing that girl-to do what, I don't know-but she needs to get there on her own."

Luke mumbled something.

"Son," she said back, "you've both been through h.e.l.l. Let her catch her breath."

I collapsed on the bed and pressed my fingers to my head, trying to stop the throbbing. Catch my breath?

In the last two weeks, I'd seen a friend set herself on fire on the steps of the Capitol. I'd seen federal agents threaten an entire town and execute a woman trying to surrender. I'd seen every attempt to expose the vice president's treason turned into proof that I was a terrorist.

The Paternalists had captured the boy I loved and cut off all the exits, and Hawkins had put a price on my head.

And still Luke wanted me to go on what was turning into a suicide mission to deliver evidence that had only a small chance of taking out the bad guys.

How am I supposed to be anything other than scared as h.e.l.l?

I looked up as Luke walked in. His thumbs were hooked in his belt loops and his head hung down, making him look about fourteen. "Avie, I want you to know, I'm sorry about Yates. If I'd thought there was any way we could have brought him with us-"

I let him sputter for a moment before I sat up. "It's okay, I'm not mad. You were right. If I'd stayed with Yates, the feds would have taken me, too."

Harris tapped on the door. "Vera's about ready to serve dinner."

"We'll be right there," Luke answered. I pushed off the bed and Luke held the door open for me like the gentleman that Nellie and Rogan had raised him to be. We sat down at the table and bowed our heads for grace, then Vera handed me the mashed potatoes, saying, "Help yourself and don't be shy."

Harris picked through the chicken pieces. "I was telling Luke here that even though I haven't found you a ride to Laramie yet, you shouldn't worry. Folks here know me and I expect we'll get some good news tomorrow."

The thigh that Harris had forked hovered over his plate like he was waiting for me to say I was okay.

"I promise I won't worry," I said. "Not yet."

Luke piped up. "Hey, you know your granddaughter's studying to be a midwife?"

Harris jiggled the chicken so it dropped on his plate. "A midwife. Is that right?" He beamed at Vera. "I told you that Keisha was a crackerjack."

Luke and I could never pay Harris and Vera back for the risks they were taking, but I think Luke came close. Harris and Vera had never visited Salvation, and they hadn't seen Keisha since she was twelve, but they glowed as brightly as the colored lights strung on the tree when Luke told them about Keisha helping the Johnson baby into the world and Beattie teaching the gospel of peace to the children of Salvation.

On the mantel, a chipped ceramic angel spread his wings over the Nativity scene. I stared at his haloed head, hoping there was a real angel up above who'd help Luke and me get out of Pocatello.

6.

"We can't risk you sleeping on the couch," Vera told Luke. She pulled blankets from the closet. "Hazel McAllister has a way of seeing right through her neighbors' walls, and if she gets a whiff that something isn't right, well-"

For the first time ever, I saw Luke blush. Vera stuffed a pillow into his arms. "Be a gentleman and leave her the bed."

"Yes, ma'am."

When I came out of the bathroom, Luke had made up a bed for himself on the floor in the narrow s.p.a.ce between the bed and the bookshelf. He lay on his side, propped up on one arm, reading the book he'd gotten that morning. His arm muscles bulged even though he was relaxed, and the hair on his forearms was blond in the lamplight.

I crossed to the bed, suddenly conscious of how I wasn't wearing anything under my loose pajama top.

He had undone the leather tie that held back his hair, and now it fell alongside his cheeks, reminding me of when I first saw him and thought he looked like Thor, the G.o.d of thunder.

I climbed into bed. "We should listen to your friend's message," Luke said quietly. "The one on your phone."

I flipped the quilt over my legs, pretending I hadn't heard that.

"I know you heard me."

"Not now."

"Vera's busy and Harris is asleep. There's no better time."

"Sparrow said that the message was for Maggie. She specifically told me not to listen to it."

"What would she have said if she knew Maggie would be murdered?"

Listen to it. Get it to the right person. "I don't know."

I eased the chain with the thumb drive over my head, and Luke watched as I let it coil on the nightstand.

"What do you intend to do about that?" he said.