(Nolan)
We crossed into Crosswell just after sunrise with all three of us in a bad mood.
Mom had slept in pieces with her head against the window and woke every half hour asking if we were close. Dad complained his back was ruined from sitting in the car all night. I’d had coffee twice and patience none.
Crosswell didn’t look like the kind of place Belle would end up in.
Too clean. Too put together. Storefronts with fresh paint. Sidewalks swept. People out early like they had somewhere worth going. A woman walked a dog past a bakery. Two men unloaded produce outside a market. Nobody looked rushed.
I hated it immediately.
“She could be here,” Mom said, staring out the windshield like she was seeing fate.
“She could be anywhere,” I said.
Dad leaned forward from the back.
“Find somew
