“I checked you in earlier,” he says. “Made sure you had one of the back rooms.”
“Will he be able to make it through the snow?” Chris had arranged a ride for us a month ago with his friend Jackson. I’d wanted to leave Andrew as soon as we got back from Mexico, but Chris needed time to get a couple more paychecks and sell his motorbike—I’d only managed to save three hundred dollars; not nearly enough. Then this winter storm had blown through the coast. We’d come close to canceling the plan, maybe trying after Christmas, but then Andrew started drinking heavy again, switching back from beer to whiskey. He came home every night complaining about work, and I knew he was going to explode into another rage soon.
“No problem. You’ll be on the first ferry over.” He handed me an envelope. “It’s four thousand. I can get you more next payday.”
I wished we could get off the island that night, but the best I could do was a hotel near the ferry terminal, so we could catch the six-twenty boat in the morning while Andrew was still hopefully sleeping. I took the envelope and slid it into one of our bags. “I’ll pay you back soon. I can clean houses or babysit. I’ll figure something out.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Are you going to be okay? If he realizes you helped—”
“He’s not going to find out anything. I’m going to be as shocked as him when he tells me you ran away.” He looked over at me. “I’ve got this, okay? I can handle him. Just get off the island and as far away as you can. Start over and don’t look back.” I saw the shimmer in his eyes, how hard he was trying not to cry. “I’ll never say a word.”
I knew he was remembering the time I caught him trying to put out the fire in the shop. He’d stolen our dad’s cigarettes and was practicing blowing smoke rings, until he dropped one into a pile of sawdust. I grabbed a water bucket and helped him put out the flames, then bandaged his arm where he’d burned it. “Don’t worry,” I whispered. “I’ll never say a word.”
But this was different. This was so much more real and dangerous than two kids covering up a small fire. I had a flash of a thought, an image. The cotton from the pill bottle sitting on the bathroom counter. I couldn’t remember if I put it in the trash. I must have. I still had the bottle with Chris’s name on the label. I’d get rid of it in a Dumpster somewhere far away. It’s the only way, I’d whispered. Chris had offered to help without a moment’s hesitation. Since he was a baby I’d been taking care of him, protecting him, but now the tables had turned.
You’re my sister, he said. We’re in this together.
I’d been awake for an hour already, peeking through the curtains. I didn’t want the hotel’s housekeeping staff or anyone at the front desk to see us. We had to run for the truck quickly. Sophie was also awake now, grimly chewing on a granola bar and watching cartoons.
“Jackson will be here soon,” I said.
She didn’t answer. She’d barely spoken all morning, but I saw her eying the phone and had a terrifying thought that she might call her father. When she caught me looking, she said, “I was thinking about Grandma and Grandpa. I didn’t get to say good-bye.”
“We’ll call them when we get to Vancouver, okay?”
“Can we call Daddy?”
“He’s going to be working all day.”
My new cell phone rang and we both stared at it. “It’s Daddy!” she said.
“It’s Uncle Chris,” I said as I picked it up, relieved but also nervous when I saw his number.
“Something happened.” Chris’s voice was wild and high. I’d never heard him sound like this and I sat down on the side of the bed. Sophie was watching, her face intent.
“Good morning, Chris.” I kept my voice calm, hoped Chris would understand that I couldn’t talk freely in front of Sophie. “Is Jackson on his way?”
“Andrew was in an accident. I just heard about it this morning. He wasn’t at the job site.”
I snuck a glance at Sophie. She was watching cartoons now, her feet kicking up in the air, her hands under her chin. I walked toward the window and lowered my voice. “Is he all right?”
“He’s in the hospital—he totaled his truck—but he’s okay.” There was something more. He sounded too shook up.
“When did it happen?”
“Last night—a couple of hours after you and Sophie left, I think.”
“I don’t understand how he could have been driving.” Two pills. It should have been enough, but he must have woken up somehow and realized we were gone.
“I don’t know either.” He paused. “It’s really bad, Lindsey. He ran through some red lights, hit a parked car, flipped the truck, then crashed into someone head-on.”
“Are they okay?”