I thought she was joking at the time.
But now, I knew it was my last refuge.
Leaning against the window, I watched Bayou Pointe’s nightscape drift farther and farther away.
The city was still beautiful—tall buildings glowing, neon lights blurring into soft patches of color in the mist.
Warm streetlights swept across my face through the window, and for a moment, I felt as if I too had been touched by a gentle light.
Half an hour later, the taxi stopped at the train station.
I paid, grabbed my bag, and walked into the empty waiting hall.
The late-night platform was so quiet I could hear the hum of the fluorescent lights.
Luck was on my side—I managed to buy a ticket for the 1 a.m. train.
Just one more hour of waiting.
Once I got on that train, the Locke family… would never catch me
