"You need to stay with your mom. We'll meet up with you later. Ashley, she was in Daniel's room . . ." I shake my head. I can't say it. "They called security and I don't think they're going to believe it wasn't me."

"Oh, God. No." Aaron glances over to Taylor and his mom, then takes a shaky breath. "Go! You need to get out of here. Do you have your phone?"

"Yes."

He looks nervously back at his family, and I know he's dreading breaking the news to them.

"I'm so sorry, Aaron-"

"It's okay. Just go back to the Jeep and wait. We'll call you."

"Turn it back on for a minute."

I crank the engine again until the Jeep warms up a bit. It's been about twenty minutes, but it feels like an hour.

"Why do you think she did it?" Deo asks.

They threatened to leave her sister behind. To let her burn. She had Cregg on the phone, watching the monitor as I flatlined for a full minute. That was the deal. Me for her sister. She didn't have a choice.

She had a choice.

What if it was Deo? If the deal was me for Deo. Are you telling me you wouldn't have done the same thing?

I'd have found another way.

But my inner voice doesn't sound convincing, even to me.

"They had her sister," I tell Deo. "Which means Cregg made it out of there."

Deo sighs. "Then she didn't have a choice."

"She had a choice."

He doesn't argue with me. "I just don't get why they wanted Daniel dead. Was it to punish us for getting away?"

"Maybe."

Because I have their data. The list of the kids they have. The ones they're watching. The results of their tests over the past year. I'd hoped I could get more, but there wasn't time.

But your mom has that data now. She showed me the flash drive.

She showed you the encrypted flash drive. Ashley knew it was encrypted. She . . . helped me collect the data.

Something about the pause makes me think they were doing more than collecting the data. And I'm apparently not the only one, because Jaden's voice chimes in.

Well, damn. So it was both. How'd you manage to keep a Fudd hookup from Maria?

I don't hear the answer to that question because the phone rings. It's Porter.

"Where are you?"

"Level 4, Penn Street Garage."

"Daniel's alive."

"What?"

WHAT?.

"Yeah," Porter says. "They were pretty happy to pull him back. But . . . there's not much brain activity. It's probably only a matter of time. But we can hope, right? Be there in a few."

When I hang up the phone, Deo says, "How did that happen?"

"I don't know. He was flatlining when I touched him. Maybe . . . if we go back in and I touch him again . . ."

Maybe.

You don't sound very excited.

Because I'm pretty damn sure I'm dead. Or brain-dead. Either way, nothing to get excited about. And any tests you may have in mind will need to wait until things cool down a bit.

"But you can't try it now," Deo says. "Security will be looking for you."

"Yeah. I know."

Porter shows up maybe five minutes later. He's driving an oversized white Ford pickup. We toss our bags into the back and climb into the cab. Deo takes the backseat, stretches out as best he can, and immediately closes his eyes.

"I don't know who's cursing your name the loudest right now," Porter says as he follows the signs toward the garage exit. "Hospital security, that house parent who came to fetch you and wound up getting an earful from your doctor, or Taylor and Michele."

"But . . ."

"Oh, Taylor and Michele are just for show. Complaining at security for letting you get away is a distraction, gives us a little smoke screen."

"Where are we going?"

"Walmart outside Laurel." He catches my expression. "Not to buy anything. That's where I parked the camper. Sam's gonna meet us there with Aaron and Taylor in an hour or so. We'll get the truck hitched up. Then Sam can take me home and head back up to be with Michele."

"You're not coming with us?"

"Not yet. I'm actually not supposed to be driving yet, but I've never been one to listen to doctors. I'm thinkin' I may quit the job in DC and see if Sam needs my help, with Aaron gone and . . . well, we don't know what's gonna happen with Daniel."

He navigates us onto the street. Even though he doesn't tell me to slump down, I do. I've been in trouble with the police before, but always for running away. Oh, and once for swiping bread and peanut butter from a convenience store when Deo and I hadn't eaten in two days. But this is different. The look in that medic's eyes terrified me, so I'm happy to stay down until we're well away from the hospital.

Porter and I both relax a little once we're on the interstate. I glance into the back and see that Deo is already asleep. I'm pretty close to nodding off myself when Porter says, "She's gone, isn't she?"

"Yeah. A few nights back."

"Did she know they had the evidence to nail Lucas?"

"Yes. Well . . . actually, no. But she trusted Taylor's gift enough to know the evidence was there. That they would find it. She didn't want to go back to that place . . . and she said it was time. I'll be the first to admit that Molly drove me crazy sometimes, but I miss her now that she's gone."

"Did she say anything about . . ." He looks a little embarrassed. "Seein' any angels? That kind of stuff?"

"No. But she was happy. Peaceful. There was music, and colors, and I can't really explain it, but . . . it was . . . beautiful, and I was grateful for that tiny glimpse of what Molly's heaven would be like."

He sniffs and looks out at the highway for a few minutes. "How about you? You handlin' things okay?"

I shrug. "I've barely slept in the past few days. The dreams are bad when they come, but everything else we've been through recently has kind of put bad dreams into perspective. You wake up and after a minute or two, you realize the dream is over. This?" I wave my hand. "Real life? It just keeps piling on more. You get out of a crazy man's underground bunker, and a few hours later, you're on the run because it looks like you might have killed the guy whose life you were actually trying to save. And that's leaving out what Daniel called the psycho mumbo jumbo."

I'm pretty sure I said psychic mumbo jumbo.

You said psycho.

"Been a rough week, huh?"

"Been a rough day."

"But you got your . . ." Porter nods toward the backseat. "What exactly is he to you?"

"Yes. Deo's back. That's the upside. And, let's just say brother."

"Well, on the one hand, that's a relief. I don't think Aaron's ever even looked at a girl before, and I hated thinkin' he finally took an interest and it might be one-sided. On the other hand, now I'm wonderin' if you might need a chaperone after all."

"Taylor will be chaperoning."

"So will Deo." That one comes from the backseat. Okay, not asleep after all.

And Daniel.

Jaden's voice chimes in next.

Hey, definitely not me. I don't care what the two of you do. I might even . . . well, maybe not, given that he's a guy, and I'm really not into guys. Never mind on that.

"Aaron's an adult. I will be too, in a little over a month. After that, it's nobody's business."

Porter chuckles. "So it's definitely not one-sided then."

"I plead the fifth."

"Well, I think this is going to work out as long as you guys are careful. Aaron's pretty good about keeping in the background. Just listen to his hunches."

It takes me a few seconds to realize that he's shifted away from talking about my personal life and is now on to work. And I decide not to point out that he wouldn't be wearing that sling if he'd listened to Aaron's hunches.

"Maybe you can help some of those kids. Michele was telling me about those two girls in London, and . . . well, somebody needs to do somethin'. And this way, you and Deo aren't off on your own without any support."

My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I fish it out. Probably Aaron or Kelsey.

But it's a text. And I don't recognize the number.

I'll never pause again, never stand still, Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine Or fortune given me measure of revenge.

Shakespeare again. Which leaves me absolutely no doubt who sent it.

"D? I need your phone."

"Whyyy?"

"Just give it, okay?"

He hands it to me, and I push the button to open the window. Then I hurl both phones out, watching in the side mirror as they clatter down the road behind us. I feel ten pounds lighter, knowing that Cregg doesn't have any way to contact me now.

"Was that really necessary?" Deo asks.

"Mmhmm. We'll get you another one." A huge yawn hits me in the middle of the sentence.

"You two go on and sleep if you can," Porter says. "I'll put on the radio to keep me company. Classical okay? Or we can do R&B."

"You choose."

When I close my eyes, Porter is playing finger piano on the edges of the steering wheel to something by Rachmaninoff. Molly would know it, I'm sure, but I'm too tired to dig through her files . . .

. . . and the moonlight on the water reminds me of the glimpse of the river from Memorial Hall that night, right before everything went up in flames. But mostly, it's just quiet. And peaceful. And as close to private as we're likely to get, at least until my head is entirely my own again.

I lean back against Aaron's chest. "It's nice. Are you sure this is still Ohio?"

He laughs and pulls me closer. "Hey, it's not all corn and cows. But to be honest, I think that bit"-he points off in the distance-"that might be West Virginia."

And then he kisses me, and I don't give a damn what state we're in, because this is where I'm supposed to . . .

. . . always to-mah-ah-row I jolt awake suddenly. Porter has swapped out the classical station for R&B, and abandoned the steering wheel piano. Now he's singing "Lean on Me," in a mostly on-key duet with Bill Withers.

The moon is gone. Aaron's gone. But it's so warm and it would be so easy to slip back to sleep. There's a blanket-no, a jacket-around my shoulders. It's not mine or Deo's, so I guess it must be Porter's.

Was that thing with Aaron just now a dream or a vision?

Don't ask me.

I wasn't asking you, Daniel. I was asking Jaden.

Um . . . I don't know. It's hard to tell when you're half asleep. But the visions aren't all bad. Sometimes, they let you experience the good things twice. And even if it was a dream, doesn't mean it won't happen, right? In this case, it's win-win. Just pick one.

Hmm. But which to pick? A vision of something good that you know is going to happen? Or a dream that would be really nice to work toward?

I snuggle back under the jacket and close my eyes, still trying to decide which is better as I drift off to sleep.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.