(Nolan)
I knew it was going to be another wasted day when Mom started talking before I had the keys in the ignition.
“She came to me in a dream,” she said, climbing into the passenger seat with two bags in her lap. “Belle was trying to tell me something.”
“She was probably trying to leave again.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t a joke.”
Dad got in the back with a grunt and shut the door too hard.
“You always got to start?”
“No,” I said. “You two do.”
I backed out of the driveway and headed for the highway. Same road as last week. Same plan as every other week. Drive until dark, ask strangers questions, come home with nothing.
Months of it.
The only thing that changed was which one of them complained first.
Mom unfolded a paper map across the dash like it was still nineteen ninet
