June's Message

The road to North Point ran between marsh and abandoned warehouses, the kind of place where Westport hid what it needed but did not want photographed.

Roslyn drove the lead car. Elise rode with Theo because Roslyn had said she was done transporting civilians who treated seat belts as suggestions. Claire and Ruby were in the second car with Maribel, both silent for once.

Adam sat in the back of Theo's SUV, calling old debt contacts with Roslyn's permission and a deputy's warning in his ear.

"No one has seen the jet take off," Adam said after the third call. "Greer's pilot is still at the strip."

"So Martin is waiting," Theo said.

Elise watched dark reeds blur past. "For forms."

"Or for us to bring ourselves."

Her phone buzzed. A photo arrived from June's number.

It showed June's left hand resting against a dirty car seat. Her thumb covered most of the screen, but in the corner Elise saw a rusted orange life ring with faded letters: NPF.

"She still has her phone," Elise said.

Theo's face tightened. "Or Martin wants us to think she does."

A second photo arrived. This one showed a torn strip from the temporary identity order Elise had folded into her coat. June must have taken it when she hugged Elise at the museum. On it, she had written in eyeliner:

HE NEEDS YOU TO SAY YES.

Claire called from the second car. Elise put her on speaker.

"June sent me one too," Claire said, voice shaking. "It says, do not sign as mother."

Ruby came on the line. "Mine says, do not sign as birth mother."

Elise looked at Theo.

"She understands the consent structure," he said.

"She is sixteen."

"She has had a full legal education against her will."

Roslyn's voice came through the radio. "Lights off now. We approach on foot."

The cars pulled behind a boarded bait shop. In the distance, the old ferry office glowed with one weak light.

Elise stepped into the marsh wind and checked her pocket.

June had left one more thing there: the cracked blue phone.