The first person I plan to call is Nikki. It's Christmas after all, and ever since I finished her letter I've wanted to tell her that I took Pixie away like she wanted. I know now that she'll never try to get Pixie back and that she wants both of us to be far away from Ray. I still don't think I can ever forgive her for not protecting us, but I do want to let her know we're okay.

I call from the same payphone as last time. There aren't that many around these days so it's pretty much my only choice. I'm a little worried that Ray will recognize the number, but it's not something I can help.

Ray answers again. "Hello?"

"I need to talk to Nikki," I say in my deepest voice so he won't recognize me.

"Who is this?"

"A friend."

Ray laughs. The sound makes a chill run down my spine. "Austin, Austin, Austin."

My heart stops beating. I try to hang up the phone, but I am stuck in place. I can't move, can't think, can't breathe.

"Using the same payphone as last time. So smart. Dallas, huh? Didn't make it far did you?" he says.

My hand tightens around the payphone. "Let me talk to my mother," I say.

"Let me talk to my daughter."

"Fuck you!"

Ray laughs. "I might let you see your mommy if you bring my kid back."

"You will never see her again," I say coldly.

"Then I guess you won't ever see your mom again. Too bad."

"You killed her didn't you?" I ask.

"I'll tell you where she is when you come home."

"I'm never coming back," I say.

"You really wanna play this game, boy?"

I say nothing.

"It's okay, Austin. I know where you are now. I can trace this number and find out exactly what street you're on, what gas station parking lot you're calling from, and I will. Better watch your back, because if you don't bring her back here in one week, you're dead."

"You can't do anything to me," I say, but my voice is shaking.

"I have people there. I just need to say the word and you're already buried in a shallow grave. It won't be quick and it won't be pretty. By the time they're finished with you there won't be any DNA left to identify your body. Merry fucking Christmas, Austin. See you soon."

I hang up the phone, dazed. My insides are frozen. Only Pixie's voice brings me back after countless minutes.

"Austin? Let's go! We'll miss the movie!" she calls.

I force my numb legs to walk back to the van. I had planned to call Nancy and Riley too, but there's nothing in my head now except the echo of Ray's threat.

---------------

It's been three days since Christmas. Four days until I'm dead.

Freezing rain has fallen all afternoon, and I don't have enough gas to keep the engine on and the heat pumping all night. I wish I could stay with Rory, but now that Ray is hunting me I can't put her in danger. I checked in with her today with the iPad while Pixie and I ate dinner in a McDonald's. I managed to attach a picture of our smiling faces. I can only pray my eyes didn't give away the truth when she saw it. She can't know. She will underestimate Ray and end up dead too. I've got to lay low.

Unfortunately, though, that leaves me and Pixie facing a very cold night in a very cold van with nothing to do but shiver and worry. Parked on the edge of a big Wal-Mart parking lot, I use the light from my iPad to count our money. I'm almost up to fifteen hundred dollars now and don't want to spend anything on a motel. In a few short months I'll be eighteen and looking for apartments, and at that point every cent will count. That is, if I manage to survive Ray's threat.

That's how I end up inside the Wal-Mart trying to shove two flannel blankets up under my hoodie. I'm skinnier now than when I stole Olaf, but Olaf was a hell of a lot smaller than these two blankets. Pixie is in the van because I don't want her to see me stealing. I haven't stolen anything big like this in awhile, but we'll never get any sleep tonight unless I pile on more layers.

"Hey!" a voice shouts at me.

I whirl around to see an angry looking security guard charging toward me across the aisle. Half of one blanket hangs out from under my hoodie. My fight or flight instinct kicks in automatically.

My only thought is Pixie in the van outside, so that's why I run for it. A dirty homeless kid running for his life through a Wal-Mart with blankets hanging out of his clothes raises more than a few red flags, and by the time I get outside I'm being pursued by two security guards, a manager, and a cop who happened to be parked outside.

I'm faster than all of them, and I've almost made it back to the van when I feel my feet give out from under me, coasting over a thin sheet of ice that's formed over a muddy puddle in the parking lot. I fall flat on my face, my ribs cushioned by the blankets still under my clothes. I try to scramble to my feet but instantly feel hands on me. Someone presses my face down against the cold wet concrete as my wrists are roughly handcuffed behind my back. The moment is so confusing I can't even comprehend that I'm being arrested.

My only thought is Pixie.

She's out of the van now and running over to me in her puffy pink coat and dirty Tinker-bell galoshes. Tears are streaming down her face.

"Austin!" she yells.

"Pixie, run!" I scream. "Run and hide!"

She looks at me, then at the crowd of people around me, and turns to run, but she gets no where before one of the security guards grabs her.

"AUSTIN!" she screams.

"NO!" I shout, helplessly writhing on the ground. "Let her go! Please!"

Pixie screams and cries as the security guard tries to comfort her. Trapped in a strange man's grip, she's on the verge of an episode and I can't bring her back. The cop who handcuffed me drags me up by my arms and slams me against the side of our van. My arms feel like they've been ripped from their sockets. As he recites a list of my rights, I'm shouting over him at Pixie, who's crying and reaching for me as the security guard holds her. Her eyes are filled with terror.

That's the last image of her that I see.

I'm shoved into the back of a police car, and Pixie is gone... out of sight... I'm desperate and frantic, tears streaming down my face. The police officer beside me tells me to shut up.

"I'll pay you money! I have money!" I say desperately, "Please! She can't go back! She can't! I'll do anything!"

"Shut the hell up, kid, you're making it worse on yourself," he says, bored.

"You don't get it! She can't go back to them!" I cry.

But my voice might as well belong to a bird or a barking dog for all the attention they pay me. I watch Pixie until I can't see her anymore, the window blurred with freezing rain.

--------------

First I'm taken to a police station and asked a bunch of questions. I tell them my name is Evan and don't dare mention anything about Pixie, hoping that'll buy her more time. I know they'll peg our identities pretty quickly, but if I can just get to her before they take her back to Ray...

I'm left alone for a long time but always under watchful eyes in a room full of cops. Eventually someone tells me why I'm still waiting. Since I'm a minor they've been calling around about an open bed for the night. It takes them two hours to find somewhere to dump me.

The only place that has an open bed tonight is a crowded juvenile home a few blocks from the Wal-Mart. It's after midnight now. The home smells like old cafeteria food and bleach, the walls made of concrete blocks and painted with sad looking murals of trees and planets and stuff. It may be a group home, but it doesn't feel anything like a home. It feels like a prison.

It takes them ten minutes to check me in, assign me a pillow and blanket and a room with two other guys. The second I'm left alone I try to figure out how to run. My roommate/cellmate is a big guy named T.J. with a shaved head, and he tells me not to bother.

"There's no way to get out. They'll be on you in five fucking seconds. Believe me," he says flatly.

"I have to!" I shout, thinking about Pixie, about Rory, about Ray's threat.

T.J. just laughs a hollow laugh. "That's what everybody says, but nobody's gonna listen to your scrawny ass so shut the fuck up and let me sleep."

My other roommate, a guy named Julio, isn't welcoming either.

"Stop pacing the room or I'll kick your ass, man!" he shouts down at me from his bunk.

I glare up at him. "Fuck you!"

"What the hell did you just say to me?" Julio asks, jumping down from his bed. T.J. follows his lead.

"I said fuck you," I say coldly, "And leave me the hell alone! I'm gonna do whatever the fuck I want, and I don't give a shit what your bitch ass thinks!"

Okay, it's not my smartest moment, but I'm pissed, terrified, and stressed to the max. Besides, I'm so jacked up on adrenaline I'm pretty sure I can take them.

I'm wrong.

Julio shoves me against the wall as T.J. throws the first punch. My head smacks against the concrete. I take a blind swing and land it on Julio's face. My fist is wet with blood when I pull it back. And then it's just an outright brawl, a blur of fists and feet and blood, and it's broken up within minutes by two hall monitors who rush into the room shouting. My nose is bleeding, and I can feel bruises swelling on my face, but I've done a little damage to Julio and T.J. too.

They put me in a single room after that, and I'm left to nurse my wounds in private.

It's the worst, longest night of my whole life. I don't even attempt to sleep. My body aches from the beating I just took, and the bed has such a thin mattress I can feel the metal frame digging into my spine. All I can do is lay there like a caged animal as tears of rage and helplessness pour down my cheeks. I can't think about anything but Pixie... how long does she have before they take her back to Ray? Where is she now? Where have they put her for the night? A foster placement? A group home like this one, full of rough kids who might try and hurt her? Is she scared? Did they let her take Olaf with her, at least?

If I could get ahold of Rory, maybe she could help... but my iPad and everything else we own is back in the van. Maybe if I told them the truth, I could buy Pixie time. Sure Ray would have me killed instantly, but it would give Pixie a chance and I'm dead in a few days anyway... I toss and turn, trying to decide what to do, and somehow I fall into a troubled, restless sleep.