Chapter Eight

Avoiding the roads, Jillie headed cross-country. The suitcase and backpack grew heavier with each step, and she often had to stop and straighten her aching back.

Maybe she should ditch the suitcase. She’d only packed it because Beth told her to.

At the very least, maybe she could unload the Nancy Drew book, or one of the bottles of water. But the book had been Beth’s, and she’d need the water. Although less to haul would have been a relief, like Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs, anything she left behind would lead searchers right to her. She took a deep breath and tightened her grip on the suitcase handle.

Cool night air teased its fingers upward under her jacket, and her teeth chattered. She busied her mind with memories of past trips on the train with Beth before Pops died. They’d take sandwiches for lunch and stop off along the route to visit museums and parks, window-shop, and people-watch. By the time they got home, they’d be too tired to do anything but take a bath and go to bed.

Sudden anger bubbled up from Jillie’s insides. Mommy, Pops, and Beth—all gone.

Life’s not fair, Chili Bean. We just do the best we can. Beth’s words brought tears to Jillie’s eyes. “I miss you,” she breathed into the silence.

If all went well, she’d get to the train station before the Elliotts discovered her missing. She’d get off in Albuquerque then board the city bus that stopped in front of the hospital. She’d hunt up the kind-faced nurse who’d patted her shoulder and told her they were doing everything they could for her sister.

Two problems popped into her mind. One was the question of what to do with her luggage. A kid carrying that much stuff would catch people’s attention. Second, the Belen station didn’t open until five thirty in the morning. And according to her wristwatch, that was still a couple of hours away.

The luggage problem could be resolved by renting one of the station’s lockers Beth had pointed out during one of their day trips. Depending on the cost, she might be able to rent one for several days. But the only way to deal with the second problem was to wait for the station to open.

Within a few minutes, the train station came into view. Except for lights dotting the parking lot, the place was dark and empty.

Jillie dropped her suitcase into the roadside ditch. She sat on the ground in front of it, leaned back against the hard plastic, and glanced at her watch.

Two hours before the station came to life. She could rest her eyes, just for a few…

The sun’s warmth on Jillie’s face jolted her awake. Panic-stricken, she looked at her watch.

Nearly eight o’clock. The Elliotts would be up and ready for breakfast.

When they found her gone, they’d probably call the police or social services. In no time, every train and bus station in the state would be crawling with police. Her picture would probably be plastered all over television.

Her eyes scanning in what Pops had called surveillance mode, she hoisted her luggage and hurried toward the station while searching the parking lot for signs of unusual activity. None of the vehicles looked familiar and she didn’t recognize any of the people who bustled in and out of the automatic double doors. No police were in sight.

She jammed her baseball cap down to cover as much of her hair as possible and stepped onto the asphalt at one end of the parking lot.

Just then, Mort’s pickup chugged into the lot opposite to where Jillie stood. Alone in the vehicle, his head swiveled from side to side as he slowly drove up and down the lanes.

Panic sluicing through her stomach, Jillie hauled her suitcase back up the hill, dropped it behind a large sage brush and fell to her knees beside it. She watched through gaps in the bush while Mort parked and went inside the station.

Her heart pounding and ears alert to every sound, Jillie grabbed up her bag and again headed cross country. If she didn’t stop to rest, she should be able to cover the ten miles to the Los Lunas station by nightfall. She’d stash her suitcase in one of the lockers there and catch the evening train to Albuquerque.

With renewed determination, Jillie tramped across fields and down turn rows. Ignoring the constant pain in her shoulders and stitch in her side, she adjusted her direction based on the position of the sun.

Pops, Mommy, Beth, if you can hear me, please help me be strong.

Exhausted beyond anything she’d ever experienced before, Jillie marched on.