Page 137 of Never Alone

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"It helps."

In Quinn's car. The door shut. The engine on.

"Where now?" Quinn said.

I thought about Noah at our kitchen table a few months ago. Building a model with me. We'd been talking about something else, and he'd said it offhand, the way Noah said important things when he didn't know they were important.

Mom always said if things got really bad, we'd go somewhere with palm trees.

I'd thought it was a vacation thing. I'd nodded. I'd kept gluing the wing.

Palm trees.

"Sam and Jamie's first," I said. "I need to see Noah."

"Then?"

"Savannah."

"Savannah?"

"Greyhound terminal. She wouldn't use the one here. Two hours south. Different state, different jurisdiction. From there, she can go anywhere."

Quinn looked at me for a beat.

"Okay."

She put the car in drive.

Sam was on the porch when Quinn pulled up.

He'd known I was coming. Quinn must have texted from the bakery.

He came down the steps without saying anything. He met me at the bottom of the porch, put a hand on my good shoulder, and looked at my face. He took the version of me he was looking at and put it into the version of me he'd known for sixteen years and did the math.

"Tell me what you need."

"Keep Noah here. I'm going to find her."

"Done."

He turned and led me up the steps. Jamie was in the front room. Her eyes were red. She'd been crying. She'd been carrying it since I'd hung up on her.

She came across the room and hugged me. Carefully. Around the sling.

"Cole. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault, Jamie."

"I should have?—"

"You couldn't have known."

She held on for a beat longer than the hug should have lasted. Then she stepped back. She wiped under her eyes with the heel of her hand.

"He's been waiting at the window."

I nodded.

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