25

Levi forgot to put the truck in park. He hopped out while it was still rolling and barreled across the parking lot toward Reed, engulfing him in the hugest hug I’d ever seen.

I scooted across the cab into the driver’s seat, stomped on the brake, and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes.

Reed was OK, and we were taking him home.



“I was already in the truck when Johnson dove for it,” Reed explained, wedged between us in the cab. His knees jiggled rhythmically as he talked, pumping excess energy into the air. “He was so intent on getting behind the wheel that he didn’t see me roll behind the seats.”

I laughed. “How did you fit?”

“I know, right? I really had to scrunch up. It helped that it was dark and Johnson was distracted.”

Levi gripped the wheel, his knuckles white. “What possessed you get into the truck in the first place?”

Reed tensed. “Don’t be mad, OK? I was planning to run into him. I know, I know, don’t say it. But come on, he kept screaming about how he was going to kill Morgan and then kill me and kill you and kill Booth and everybody in Birchardville. I panicked.”

I patted his arm.

“Once he drove out of town, I didn’t know what to do. It thought the smartest thing would be to wait until he stopped—then I’d just roll out and run away. But the first time he stopped, he didn’t leave the truck. He just stood in the door peed right there. I could hear everything.” Judging by his tone, this might have been the most traumatic part of his experience.

“Then he finally pulled off the interstate, ditched the truck in a hotel parking lot, and boosted the one parked next to it. I waited until he pulled away, jumped out, and ran into the lobby. I don’t think they believed my story, but they called the police, which is what I wanted anyway. I had the Maryland police contact Booth, and after they talked to him, they let me call you.” He looped his arm though mine.

I squeezed his bony elbow. Beneath my palm, the fabric of the red hoodie was worn and soft.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Levi growled.

Reed shook his head. “You were right about my generation not knowing any phone numbers. The only reason I knew Captain Morgan’s is because I sneaked it off your phone while you were in the shower yesterday.” He pulled up his cuff to reveal faded marker on the back of his hand. It was indeed my number.

“I would have used it for good,” he assured me. “Not evil.”

I laughed and nudged him with my shoulder. I believed him.

Levi’s phone pinged, and he flipped it to Reed, whose face lit up when he read the message. “No way,” he chirped. “Mom’s coming?”