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I promise. Why? What’s happening?

The cops have been around the club. Asking questions about Sammy.

Her reply stabs through me. Fuck. I’m fucked. A crack of fear runs through my chest, spreading through my insides. Now I really can’t go back. Now I really am on the run.

A ping from my phone.

Don’t you worry, baby. I got you. I promise you, you’re safe. All you have to do is tell me where you are. I don’t want my girl to be scared and alone.

Doubt and despair crest over me. Alone. Alone. That’s what I am. And always have been.

Fuck.

I feel sick, dizzy, like I can’t breathe.

Blood. Brain matter. The shimmer of spilled whiskey.

My phone hits the ground with a clatter. I drop to my knees on the cool hardwood floor. The tightness in my chest burns. I squeeze my eyes shut and watch the prick of black dots dance on the backs of my eyelids.

To focus, I finger the locket on my neck.

Lucy Lou. I miss you.

But she doesn’t answer.

The darkness comes closer. The memories. Red and blue police lights, a white sheet covering a small body, me, standing in the middle of the street as my mom screamed at me that it was all my fault.

And it was. All my fault.

I’m inhaling, exhaling, when I hear the click of the screen door. Then, the tiniest of giggles.

I crack an eye. “You can come in.”

Evangeline pops her dark head inside. “Hi. Do you want cookies? I made some.”

I’m about to say yes, because god knows I love a good cookie, when I realize they’re mud cookies. I smile as she sets the cookie tray on the rug. “They look delicious. What kind are they?”

“Brownie and gummy worms.”

“Does your dad know you’re here?” I pick one up and mime eating the goopy mess.

“No.” She drops her eyes. “My daddy worries a lot.”

I shift my position, crossing my legs and setting my cookie down. “He sounds like a good daddy. You should probably tell him where you are.”

Evangeline sits on the ground with me. There’s a delicate scattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose and apples of her cheeks. “He is. Do you want to know a secret?”

“Only if it’s okay to tell.”

“My brain has an owie. That’s why my daddy worries.”

“Oh, well, you know a lot of secrets.”

“I do. I am the secret keeper.”

I lean in. “Guess what? I have secrets too.”

A large shadow looms in the doorway, and a chill creeps down my scalp.