The road narrowed an hour past sunrise, the asphalt thinning into patched gravel that rattled beneath the tires. Pines closed in on both sides, tall and indifferent, their shadows striping the windshield like bars.

Marga stirred against my shoulder. “Are we there yet?”

“Almost,” Elijah said before I could answer. His voice was calm, but I noticed the way his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror every few seconds. Not frantic. Counting.

I followed his gaze. An empty road curved behind ...