Page 49 of A River of Crows

“Great!” Dylan’s voice sounded giddy. “Is tomorrow night too soon? At 7:00?”

At that moment, tomorrow night didn’t seem soon enough. Sloan wanted to see Dylan now, to share about the meeting with her dad and to talk through her mixed emotions. But given that she’d only been legally divorced a few weeks, this was the very definition of a rebound. She needed to keep her head. “Sure. See you at 7:00.”

Sloan hung up and slumped against the seat. Despite her sense that a date with Dylan Lawrence was not what she needed, she couldn’t calm the fluttering in her chest.

“Coffee,” she said aloud. Coffee ought to sober her up. Remind her that she was not a lovesick teenager, but a woman who knew better.

She was almost to the door of the By and Buy convenience store when she stopped in front of the commercial ice freezer. It used to be on the other side of the door, and there was a payphone here instead. Sloan wondered how she knew that. Had she been here often as a child? She couldn’t imagine why she would have been. They rarely left Mallowater.

The inside of the store was familiar too, but no different from any other convenience store. It smelled like Lemon Pine-Sol and grease from the hot dog machine on the counter. She passed the aisles of pain relievers, snacks, and impulse buys on her way to the self-serve coffee area, unable to shake the strangest sensation of déjà vu. As she prepared her drink, she stared at the wall of built-in coolers in front of her.

Lunchables, she remembered. There had been Lunchables there, and she’d bought one. A ham and cheese Lunchable, a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, and a Slice Soda. How was she remembering this? Why was she remembering this?

Sloan overfilled her foam cup, and coffee spilled over, burning the top of her hand. “Shit!” She jerked her hand back and blew on it. Suddenly, the shop was loud. Next to her, someone tapped a straw on the counter to break the wrapper, while ice clanged into his cup. The slush machine roared as a small child pleaded for the big cup, not the small one. The vacuum seal on a refrigerated case broke open as a woman pulled on the door handle, then reached in for a drink, causing other bottles to slide forward.

Sloan stepped back, leaving her coffee on the counter. Her throat tightened, and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Then, for no discernable reason, she started to cry.

Sloan ran out of the store, gulping in the night’s fresh air. A sharp pain permeated through her chest. She stumbled into her car and reached for her cell phone.

The payphone. The Lunchable and bag of Doritos, ice strewn across the concrete. She realized why she felt a strange familiarity here. Suddenly, she understood her sense of panic. She remembered this place.

She remembered everything.

Chapter 15

Mallowater, TX, 1989

Sharp white light stung Sloan’s eyes as she fought to keep them open. “Come on!” Mom shook her harder. “Get up and get dressed. Wear something comfortable.”

Sloan sat up in bed, disoriented. Through a crack in her curtains, she saw the darkness outside. She rubbed her eyes. “It’s the middle of the night. Turn my light off.”

Mom pulled a pink vinyl suitcase from the closet and threw it onto the floor. Going to Grandma’s was written on it above a cartoon girl with two pigtails. Sloan had never liked that suitcase, even when she wasn’t too old to be carrying it. The girl on it had bright blonde hair, the kind everyone in the family except Sloan had. Besides, it wasn’t like Sloan ever had a grandma to visit.

“Pack it,” her mother said. “Clothes only. Anything else you want needs to fit in your backpack.”

Sloan threw her legs over the side of the bed. “I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me what’s going on.”

“Have you forgotten what happened at Leo’s? Get packed!” Before leaving the room, Mom grabbed Sloan’s blanket off her bed and Ridge’s beloved stuffed animal off his.

“Why are you taking Blue?”

“Because we may not be back,” Mom snapped. “Now get moving. You have ten minutes.”

Sloan kicked the stupid pink suitcase back into the closet and reached up to grab a plain black duffle bag that had belonged to Ridge. She put on a pair of sweats and stuffed what she could into the bag. Her mother’s words echoed in her head as she stared at the Christian Slater poster above the dresser. We may not be back.

She turned her school backpack upside down and shook it, emptying her Trapper Keeper, broken pencils, and several elaborately folded notes from her classmates the year before. She replaced them with her pink cassette player and some tapes, grabbing all her favorites—Michael Jackson, New Kids on the Block, Reba McEntire, Tiffany, and of course, Keith Whitley.

There was still some room, so she grabbed her makeup bag, piggy bank, and the tattered paperback copy of The Firebrand from her nightstand. She pulled open the bottom drawer of the nightstand and retrieved a few birthday cards from her grandpa, trying to ignore the ones from her dad. Underneath the pictures, she glimpsed a photo album, a picture of her and Noah displayed through the circle in the front. Noah. Was she really going to leave without saying goodbye?

“Earth to Sloan!” Mom poked her head into the room. “Why are you just sitting there? Five minutes.” She held up five fingers as if Sloan needed a visual.

Four minutes later, Caroline shoved Sloan’s things in the back of their Ford Escort as Sloan situated herself in the passenger seat. Behind her, stacks of boxes were nestled among their suitcases and a small safe Sloan had never seen. Her mother must have been packing all night. When was she going to explain what was going on? Sloan thought about the man at Leo’s and pushed down the lock on the passenger door.

“Birth certificates, social security cards, water, blankets, cash . . .” Caroline recited a long list to herself as she climbed into the driver's seat. “Am I forgetting anything?”

“That depends on where we’re going.” Sloan’s voice was brittle.

Caroline reached over and pushed Sloan’s bangs out of her face. “I’m not trying to scare you, but we’re in danger. We can’t involve the police.”

---