June is carrying Lukas, cradling him gently in her tiny arms, while Ernestine and I throw our scant belongings in the back of the van.
Police sirens are getting closer, the wails piercing the silence. We don’t have any time to waste. I tell Ernestine to buckle in the kids while I take the keys and hop in the driver’s seat.
I wonder where Dima is.
I want to kiss Lukas’s face, cradle him against my chest, remind myself that he is healthy and okay and complete. And then I want Dima to do the same thing to me.
But there’s no time for any of that. Right now, the best thing I can do for Lukas—and for myself—is stay focused on the mission ahead.
Ernestine is just finishing getting into her seat when I hit the gas and take off through the parking lot.
As we pass where Ennio’s body is laying,
