I went to pick up my daughter’s designer bag—and the repairman grabbed my wrist, whispering, “Get the kids out of town tonight,” before he showed me what was sewn inside.

Merchandise? The word hung between us like poison.

I’ll be there at 2:30 in the morning. Don’t let Tamson know anything.

I won’t. And Mom, keep that evidence safe. We’re going to need it.

The line went dead.

I sat there as darkness settled over Fair View, the evidence bag heavy in my lap. When I finally drove home through the spring rain, I kept one hand on the evidence bag the entire way. Tony’s words echoed, “Get them out tonight.”

But Ryan wouldn’t arrive until 2:30 in the morning. Tamson would return Wednesday evening at 6. That gave us about 40 hours. 40 hours to save Grace and Liam from their own mother.

The clock had started counting down.

At 5:30 that morning, I stood in Grace’s doorway watching her sleep, her yellow bunny tucked under her chin. How do you wake a child and tell her she’s running from her own mother? You don’t. You smile. You lie. You protect innocence as long as possible.

I sat on the edge of her bed and brushed the hair from her forehead.

Grace, sweetheart, time to wake up. We’re going on an adventure.

Her eyes fluttered open, confused.

Grandma, it’s still dark.

I know, honey, but we have to catch an early flight. We’re going to see mountains and horses.

Grace sat up.

Where’s mommy?

My chest tightened. I’d rehearsed this lie with Ryan.

Mommy’s busy with work in Seattle, but Daddy flew in from Denver, and we thought you and Liam would love a special trip.

Down the hall, I heard Ryan waking Liam.

We’re going on an airplane. You can sleep on the plane.

An airplane. Sudden excitement in Liam’s voice. He appeared clutching his blue stuffed bear. The bear we’d checked for the tracker just hours ago.