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“Mona and I used to play match the driver. It was a game. I got good at it.”

When his brow furrows and his mouth presses down in displeasure, I gaze out the window at the closest car. The one car in the lot I would never have chosen. A twenty-year-old silver minivan with scratches down the side, a taillight held on by duct tape, and three car seats inside.

“She used to take me to bar parking lots on weekends, and we’d study the cars parked outside. At first, it was boring, and I’d have trouble staying awake. That’s when she started giving me caffeine pills.”

I’d press my forehead to the glass, watching shadows move under yellow lights, too scared to blink in case I missed something.

She’d be still beside me, writing, judging. I wanted so badly to get it right. To guess the car. The man. The make. The match. Be useful. Be wanted.

My stomach twisted every time she sighed or shook her head. The pills made my hands tremble, but at least I stayed awake. Sleep was weakness. Mistakes meant we stayed out longer and I’d risk falling asleep at school.

“How old were you?”

I think back and shake my head. “I’m not sure. Nine? Ten?”

“Then what?”

“Then we’d go inside, and I’d have to see if I could match the driver to the car.”

I don’t need to see his face to catch the disgust in his voice. “She was teaching you to be a criminal.”

I close my eyes as I try to see it his way. “She was teaching menotto be a victim.”

He’s silent, but I can hear his thoughts churning.

“Did you ever think what you were doing was wrong?”

I turn and look at him, defensive and protective of the one person I shouldn’t be. “To begin with, I thought Mona wanted to be my mother and that we could be a family. That’s what she told everyone. For a while, she fooled me too.”

He works his jaw. “But she abandoned you, didn’t she? She disconnected her number just when you needed her help.”

I throw my head back, laughing to cover the pain. “So that’s how you found me? You were tracking my phone. I should have guessed.”

He slides closer, forcing me to look at him. “You deserved a home and a family.”

Even though his words cause tears to burn in my eyes, I lift a shoulder, brushing him off. “I survived. Can we change the subject?”

He sits back, glancing at Jake as he turns his back to us, fiddling with the door. “Why not box them in and run them off the road? You had the manpower—and I’m assuming the vehicles—to do it.”

Mick shakes his head. “Aside from the risk that would have posed to civilians, Caleb and Adena need to follow them.”

My eyebrows rise. “To see if they lead him to where they have your sister?”

He blows out a breath then runs his hand over his face. “Caleb told me they could hustle. I wasn’t sure if he was blowing smoke.”

I unbuckle my seat belt and glance out the window as Jake opens the driver’s door of the Pontiac and gestures for us to join him.

When Mick moves to get out, I grab his arm. “Wait. I wanted to tell you…”

What was I even trying to say? That I’m sorry? That I wish I were better? That I wish this could be something—when it can’t?

He tilts his head, brow furrowed. “What is it?”

I bite my lip, half convinced I’ve lost my mind for trusting him, then reach into my bra and pull out the memory card.

“If you’re serious about helping me, start with this.”

Fourteen