TWENTY-FOUR

“This is more than it was,” Nancy said.

“Yes,” Crissa said. There was an even hundred thousand in the sports bag now, rebanded and neatly packed. “Remember what I told you about banks.”

They were in Nancy’s bedroom, the bag open on the bed.

“And nobody’s going to come looking for it?”

“Not anymore,” Crissa said.

“What happened here last night, after we left?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Nancy looked at her, then at the money. “Part of me does. And part of me thinks I’m better off not knowing.”

“Maybe that’s best.”

They could hear Haley outside, singing to herself. Crissa went to the window, looked out on the backyard. Haley was sitting on the rear steps, iPod in hand, earbuds in her ears, kicking her heels lightly against the concrete.

“She seems okay,” Nancy said. “I was worried. But it’s hard to tell. She doesn’t talk much. She’s trying to forget it all, is the sense I get.”

“If she’s lucky, she will.”

“I’m going to have to keep an eye on her, talk with her if I can.”

“You’ve got that cell,” Crissa said. “And in a few days, I’ll call, give you a PO box as well. Anything comes up, you need to reach me, you’ll be able to.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Soon as I’m packed.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” She zipped up the bag. “Just remember to be careful with this.”

“I will.”

“Take some of it, get Claudette into a program, a good one.”

“We’ve already talked about it. She has a meeting with a counselor this week. I’m going with her.”

“That’s good.”

“But I can’t help wondering if Roy’s going to show up again, drag her back down with him.”

“Not this time,” Crissa said.

*   *   *

She stowed her bag in the trunk of the rental, looked up the driveway to where Haley sat on a flat rock by the creek. She’d watched Crissa getting ready, packing her bag. Then she’d taken her iPod out to the creek, and hadn’t come back.

Claudette came out of the house, over to the car. “Is this it? Are you going?”

Crissa shut the trunk. “You know how to reach me. If something comes up, I’ll get back down here as soon as I can.”

“You can stay, you know.”

Crissa looked at her.

“As long as you want,” Claudette said. “Nancy and I talked about it. It might be a good thing for all of us. You, too.”

“Thanks, but I have places I need to be.”

“Where?”

Crissa didn’t answer.

“I’m not sure where you’re going,” Claudette said, “or exactly who you are, to be honest. But I want you to know that whatever happens, whatever trouble you run into, you’ll always be welcome here.”

Crissa nodded, looked up at the creek. Haley hadn’t moved.

“Thanks for that,” Crissa said. “I guess I’ll say my good-byes, get going.”

She walked up the driveway, Claudette watching her. Haley was throwing pebbles into the water. She wore the Mickey Mouse T-shirt Crissa had bought her.

“Hey, angel.”

Haley didn’t turn.

Crissa sat beside her. “I wanted to say—”

Haley got up, walked fast to the house, ran the last few feet. Crissa watched her go. The screen door closed behind her.

I don’t blame you, Crissa thought. Hold on to that anger. You’ll need it.

She went back to the car, got behind the wheel, started the engine.

Backing down the driveway, she saw Haley at the front door, looking through the screen, Claudette behind her.

She braked. The screen door flew open, and Haley came out running. Claudette stayed in the doorway.

Crissa got out of the car just as Haley reached the end of the path. She held her arms out, and Haley flew into them, hugged her, squeezing hard. Crissa squeezed back, felt her warmth, smelled her hair. She held her for a long time, neither of them speaking. Claudette stood behind the screen door, watching.

“Okay, angel,” Crissa said. “Time for you to go back inside.” Haley held her tighter.

Crissa reached behind, gently loosened her grip. “Your mom’s waiting for you.”

Haley let go, looked up, and Crissa waited for the question to follow. Instead, she turned away, started back up the path to the house. Claudette held the screen door open. Haley went inside, and Claudette looked back at Crissa, then followed her in. The door shut behind them.

Crissa got in the car, backed out onto the road, stopped there, looking at the house. Haley hadn’t been crying. That little girl, she thought, is tougher than you think.

She headed up the coast road to I-95. She’d return the car in Jacksonville, take Amtrak from there. In a little more than a day, she’d be home.

She drove on, took her sunglasses from the rearview, put them on. But it didn’t help the stinging in her eyes.