moment, she thought maybe he was going to put her on a plane.
But long before the airport exit, he signaled and pulled into Mack’s store, which opened at the crack of dawn. Her eyes widened as she slunk down in her seat. Oh, no. Anyplace but here. He pulled into a parking spot right near the door, then got out. “Stay put for a sec, okay? Don’t leave.”
He didn’t need to worry. She wasn’t in any shape to flee. She pulled her hood over her dark hair, just in case Billy or his minions went by. She prayed he thought she was still in the hospital, prayed he wasn’t looking for her yet. Her hands tightened on her stomach as nausea threatened.
Two minutes later, Grampy came back to the car and handed her a paper bag, and she took it with shaky hands.
Grampy shook his head. “Some punk held up Mack last week. Shot him!”
She gulped. She already knew that. “Is he—okay?”
Please let him be okay. Please let him not be dead.
“Got only his shoulder, thank Christ. He’s going to be all right.”
Oh, thank God. Billy hadn’t killed him.
But another fear made her chest hurt.
“Does he—does he know who did it?”
Grampy shook his head again. “I keep telling him he needs one of those security camera things, but he keeps saying, ‘Security’s for folks who’re afraid. I’m not afraid.’ ” He sighed. “I bet you ten bucks he’ll be putting in a camera by the weekend.”
“Thank God he’s all right.” Her voice shook, and she tried to cover it with a cough.
“Can’t believe what this world’s coming to.” Grampy shook his head again. “Used to be you didn’t have to worry about punks coming in with a gun just because they wanted a case of Bud, you know?” He pointed at the paper bag as he turned the key. “Open it.”
She squeezed her hands into fists, trying to stop the shaking, trying to stop feeling like she was going to throw up. Then she took a deep breath and peeked inside the brown bag. A root beer, a donut, and two scratch tickets.
She smiled sadly as she pulled out the tickets and gave him one.
“This could be the one, right? This could be our go-west ticket.”
They both scratched away the silvery coatings, and Jess sighed as she saw the words Try Again. Really? This one freakin’ time, there couldn’t be a winning ticket?
Grampy held his up as well, and they shook their heads in unison. “Maybe next time,” he said, sighing. Then he reached into the backseat. “I brought you something.”
In his hand was the one book she’d ever finished—Little Women.
He tapped the spine, where the silvery print of Louisa May Alcott’s name stood out in the morning light. “Remember how you used to say when you grew up, you were going to go west, and you were going to be Jessalyn Alcott?”
“I was twelve, Grampy.” She sniffed, waving a hand down her dirty T-shirt and ripped jeans. “And delusional. I picked that first name out of a magazine at Mack’s.”
“I always thought it was great that you had a new name for yourself all picked out.”
“Well, it sure has a nicer ring than Star Smith. Can you imagine filling out a job application with my name? I might as well just write ‘Trailer-trash Tracy.’ Nobody will ever take me seriously with this stupid name.”
He shook his head. “I like Jessalyn better, too.” He looked at her long and hard, his hand on the shifting lever. “You can get out of here, jellybean. You don’t have to be Star Smith anymore if you don’t want to be. I’m going to take you to a safe place where you can get better, get help, and get out of here forever.”
He reached over, grabbing her hand with surprising strength. “This is your chance, honey. You run away now, you’ll live. You stay here, you’re going to die. If not your body, then your spirit. You have to go. It’s the only way.”
She couldn’t speak, emotion clogging her throat like a gas-soaked rag. Then another wave of nausea shot through her midsection.
She was silent as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed east. She’d been in denial for months, but Grampy was right. If she stayed here, she was going to be nothing more than a sad statistic.
Two hours later, they pulled into a spot in front of a converted Victorian with a small sign on the front. “Safe Haven,” it said,