Page 117 of The Last Letter of Rachel Ellsworth

Rachel.

She didn’t look their way, just opened the door to the mall and went in. Mariah bolted after her, dragging her back leg, and pushedthrough the doors into a hallway. “Mom!” she cried, but the woman kept walking.

Mariah couldn’t run. It was a physical impossibility, but she hobble-walked as fast as she could, trying to keep the green blouse in sight. A sense of terrible, terrible dread rose in her chest, filled her throat. “Mom!” she cried. “Be careful!”

A shower of bullets destroyed the ordinary scene. People didn’t scream, they just ran as fast as they could, ducking, holding their hands over their heads. Mariah dropped to her knees amid the avocados rolling on the floor, and saw the green blouse shredding, disappearing.

She howled.

Chapter Fifty-Five

Veronica ran after Mariah when she dived through the mall doors. Mariah disappeared into a tangle of shoppers, and Veronica heard her heartbreaking cry, “Mom!”

Henry was with her, and they were close to catching up when Mariah fell to her knees, letting go of a moan of such deep, guttural sorrow that people around her recoiled. Not everyone. A woman dropped down beside her, touching her arms, her shoulders, murmuring comforting words.

Veronica got to her first. “Mariah. You’re safe.”

She was shuddering and crying and screaming, clearly terrified, and Henry bent down, scooped her up and carried her outside where he set her down in a shady place. She bent over, covering her head, her face, her head again.

“What do we do?” Veronica whispered.

He squatted with Mariah. “I’m here, baby,” he said. “I’m here. We’re in Delhi, not Colorado.”

She bent over, hyperventilating. “I can’t breathe. My heart is going to explode. Help me!”

In his calm, warm voice, he said, “You’re not dying. It’s okay. Breathe for me. In—”

“I can’t,” she gasped. “I can’t. I can’t.”

“You can.”

Veronica took her scarf off and soaked it with water from her bottle, offering it to Henry, who used it to wash Mariah’s overheated face.

“I saw her,” Mariah cried. “I saw her go into the mall, and I followed her.” She broke off with a keening sound. “She’s not here!”

Henry looked up at Veronica. “I’ll take her back to the hotel. You find the bookstore and talk to Zoish.”

“No, I really think I need to come with you. I’m worried about her. Let’s just forget the rest of it.”

Henry tucked Mariah close to his chest. “Shh. It’s okay, kiddo. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” Over her head, he said, “You have to finish. I’ve got Mariah. You go.”

Veronica looked over her shoulder, courage leaking away like gasoline from a tank. “No. I feel like she needs me.”

“She also needs this story about her mother finished, and you’re the one who can do that. I’ll keep you posted.”

Veronica touched her belly. “I’m scared.”

“It’ll be easy. You were already leading the way.”

Veronica looked toward the street, at Mariah, so overwrought. “Maybe we should forget this. Maybe it’s a sign that we shouldn’t find out what happened.”

“It’ll be fine. Follow the directions, and then call for a rickshaw or a taxi to take you back to the hotel.”

“I don’t think I—”

His clear eyes steadied her. “Of course you can.”

This is your life,something said inside her. She pulled out her phone. “Let me drop a pin for the hotel. What’s the name of it?”