Keene was silent for a moment. "That's the first useful thing you've said since telling me you were on the road," he replied. "Call me when you reach the outskirts. I may have somewhere specific for you to wait."
The call ended, and Grim stood looking at the small black telephone for several seconds. Danny leaned against the motorcycle. "You're listening to him," Danny observed.
"Trying," Grim said. "Looks painful." "It is."
Danny grinned faintly, but there was concern beneath it. He had known Victor through years when hearing an instruction from someone outside the club had been enough to provoke an argument. He knew the difference between a man choosing restraint and a man temporarily holding his temper. This morning, he hoped he was seeing the former.
In Laughlin, Linda Patterson had put down the breakfast dishes when Marco delivered the news. Sarah was sitting at the kitchen table with Rosie in her lap, and Ethan was examining a window latch on the far wall. The house smelled of pancakes, coffee, and the lavender soap Linda kept beside the sink. It was an ordinary place, but to Sarah the ordinariness was almost painful. She could not remember the last time she'd sat at a table without calculating how long a peaceful moment would last.
"We need to move again," Marco said. He didn't try to disguise the urgency, but he spoke gently enough that Rosie didn't immediately panic. Sarah's face went still.
"He found us?" she asked. "He knows the town, and he may know this address. He hasn't found where you're going next. We're getting you to Carol's until the investigators arrange something longer-term."
Ethan had already crossed to the table. "Mom, stand slowly," he said, reaching for Rosie's hand. "You've got to remember what the nurse said about your ribs." Sarah looked at her son with a grief almost as sharp as fear.
He was speaking like somebody who had managed adult emergencies for years. She reached across and touched his cheek. "Ethan," she said, "thank you. But I'm your mother, and I can get us through this part. You can hold Rosie's hand and let me decide where we go."
The boy hesitated. He was accustomed to being responsible for decisions because nobody else had been free to make them. Handing responsibility back was more frightening than it should have been.
Sarah recognized the uncertainty on his face and understood something she would spend months trying to repair: safety was not only the absence of Clay. It was Ethan learning that he did not have to keep everybody alive by himself. "We'll make the next choice together," she said. "But you don't have to make it alone."