Paolo drove through the night. We didn't speak at all, really, mostly because I feigned sleep. And I did even sleep for a little while, though I tried not to. I tried to keep my eyes open every so often, just to make sure he was still on the highway and not off on some creepy side road. When I'd left the Hineses', it had only just gotten dark, so there were quite a few hours. Finally, though, at about four o'clock in the morning, just as light was beginning to limn the horizon, Paolo turned off the road into a gas station. I woke fully, stretched a little, remembered who I was with and straightened up. I felt incredibly self-conscious, and I didn't like it.

"Where are we?"

He parked at a pump, turned off the car. "Still in Texas. Close to New Mexico, though. Hit some construction a ways back. Slowed us down."

I had very little sense of direction and no way to know whether he was being honest. "Fine. I need to get out for a minute."

While he pumped gas, I went into the station and washed up. When I saw Paolo in line to pay, I walked over.

"I'll get it," I offered. He was about to refuse, but I insisted. I was fairly sure I had more on me than he did. "My trip--my money. Besides, you'll have to pay your way back somehow. Better save it." I also threw in a couple of energy drinks and a bag of pretzels. Paolo's smile put me on edge, and I shivered inadvertently.

"You cold?" he asked, getting the gas station door for me.

"No, just waking up, I guess." It occurred to me that he had just driven through the night. "What about you? Do you need to sleep?"

"Nah, I'm good. I've pulled lots of all-nighters."

This was all so weird, now that we were far from San Judo. Last night, it had seemed to make sense, but getting back into my seat, Paolo settling in and starting up again, I began to feel that it was . . . off. Why had he been so eager to up and leave just to help someone he didn't even know? I asked him as much.

At first he didn't answer. I watched him out of the corner of my eyes, his languid movements, the way he sat back and drove with ease. And then my gaze was on his face again, his mouth, his skin, his softly curling hair. I wanted to touch him.

He looked at me suddenly, catching my eye. I turned quickly back to opening my pretzels, flushing with warmth.

In seriousness, then, he responded to my question. "You're interesting."

It hadn't exactly been the answer I was looking for, though I wasn't entirely sure what I was looking for.

"I saw you, a while ago. You just--I don't know. You stood out."

Enough about me and my weirdness. "I mean more why are you doing this? Why drop whatever and just drive to the middle of nowhere with me?"

"Is it the middle of nowhere?"

"Answer my question."

He sighed, perhaps with some annoyance. Did he not want to answer? "Nothing else is going on."

"Oh, well I'm flattered that I'm more interesting than nothing."

"Not what I meant, but read it how you want. Honestly, I wasn't getting anywhere with you, and you were about to leave. I'd probably never see you again if I didn't come with you."

That was true. "But won't your parents notice you've gone?"

"Nah. Don't think they've noticed me much in years, ever since I could feed myself and get around."

"Oh."

"And besides, this sounded interesting. Maybe I needed to get out of San Judo, too."

What did he mean by that? What did he know? "What makes you think I needed to get out of there?"

"Why else leave in the middle of the night? The party wasn't that bad." He laughed, but I didn't. Some quiet settled in; I wasn't sure what to say without revealing too much.

And there was something in what he'd said--I was interesting. Perhaps it wasn't the descriptor I was looking for, but the power was shifting between us. Maybe it had shifted already, I didn't know. There was no way I could deny at this point that I was way too attracted to him. I'd felt it before, but I'd been able to get away from him. Now, I was beginning to recognize that I was glad to be captive in that car with him, and the moment I realized that, he got the upper hand. I was furious with myself for letting it happen, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. I couldn't get rid of those stupid butterflies in my stomach, that branched top to bottom when my gaze lingered a little too long on his features, on his hands. I kept thinking back to his hand on my arm and wishing I hadn't shaken it off so quickly.

And at the same time, I felt certain I had to get rid of him. He made me vulnerable.

"Really, though--what's with the zip code?"

His question shook me out of my thoughts. Of course he had a right to ask that question; I was surprised he'd waited so long. I didn't want to answer it, though, that was for sure. I also didn't feel as if I could lie to him. Conflicted, I said nothing.

"What's the mystery, Nadia?"

My name was on his tongue; I wanted it to stay there.

"I don't want to push, but I can turn around and take us back--"

"No! Don't!" My cry startled him as much as it startled me. A picture of Henry came back, as I'd last seen him, in that cabin at night, stars in his eyes. I had to get to him, to whatever was at that zip code. It was the only lead I had, and it could be a set-up, a false lead . . . just, nothing at all. "Forget-me-not," I said softly, and something heavy held my voice back.

If Paolo heard me, he said nothing.

"I just need to get there," I told him. "I truthfully don't know what will be there, or what I'll do when I get there. But it's all I've got."

Rather than ask what I meant, he asked where the Hineses had gone. I put together what he was thinking.

"No, it has nothing to do with them. They left. They aren't coming back as far as I know. Not my problem."

"But they're your family--"

"No they aren't."

The force of my answer must have confused him.

"Look," I said. "There's a lot you don't know about me, and I can't tell you any of it. Assuming you are who you say you are, and you aren't lying . . . there's just too much for me to explain, and you're better not knowing it. I'm probably really stupid for trusting you at all."

"So you do trust me?"

"No. Not much."

He looked over his shoulder as he changed lanes, and when he was facing forward again, I saw he'd regained his smile. "See?" he said. "What did I say? You're damn interesting."

I couldn't help but smile, too. Wherever this was all going, I was sort of enjoying it, even though I felt guilty. For the first time in months, it was as if I were free.

Paolo managed to drive us into New Mexico, another few hours, before he did begin to tire. Our conversation was mild, about school and his friends and other drivers on the road. He didn't talk much about his family other than to say he had a brother and two parents, and I didn't pry. I didn't say anything about my past, and he didn't pry either. We kept it pretty surface-level and both seemed all right with that. We argued over music a few times, and we made as few stops as possible, but I could tell at last that he needed to sleep. I didn't know how to drive, and he didn't want me to do it anyway, so we decided to pull off the road in some podunk town, one of those places that existed solely for road trip pit stops, one street with some restaurants and gas stations and not much else. But we drove past the main strip and far enough into the countryside that Paolo could pull in near an abandoned storefront and park in its overgrown lot.

"I need to sleep--just maybe an hour or so."

My guard was up slightly. We were entirely isolated. The two-lane road behind us didn't really seem to go anywhere; passing cars were probably rare. But Paolo hadn't done anything to raise my concern. Besides, he definitely did need to sleep, and this was preferable to some motel where all kinds of uncomfortable situations could arise.

"I'll just lay my seat back. I set my alarm for an hour, okay? You can sleep too, you know. Right here." He grinned and patted his shoulder.

I was embarrassed and surely blushed. He seemed too joking to be serious. "No thanks. I'll just get some air."

Paolo grasped my hand as I opened my door. "Don't go far, though."

Where did he think I'd go? There was literally nowhere. I slipped my hand from his and got out of the car, shutting the passenger door quietly while he settled down and closed his eyes. The air was warm, a slight edge to it, but overall warm. And the sunlight felt good. The parking lot barely resembled one anymore; weeds and even trees had broken through the asphalt and grown unchecked for some time. Most of the trees were taller than I was, though they were thin and had few leaves. Some ways toward the back of the lot, away from the road, was a good-sized one-story building. It had obviously been a store of some kind. The windows and door were shuttered, and the outline of big electric letters ran along the front, right under the roof. I could barely make out "Furniture Outlet," I thought, if I looked hard enough. To the left and right and likely behind the building were fields, big weedy expanses that ended in lines of trees that were sparse at first but thickened in deepness. That was all. Nowhere to go. And then there was the road, which went left to right toward nothing, although I knew that far enough one way was the strip of fast food chains and gas stations we'd come from. Who knew what lay the other way? Probably some random houses for the people that worked in the random gas stations and fast food chains. Across the road, then--more weeds, more trees. Just, nothing.

It was so quiet. I leaned against the car. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been in nature--or as close as this was to nature--like this. As I listened, I could actually hear birds chirping away. There were a couple of butterflies dancing the the air off to my right. I started to walk a little, bored but sort of enjoying that. I made a few rounds of the parking lot, probably killed about half an hour and the entire time I didn't see a single car drive by.

My mind wandered with all the possibilities of what might be out there in Colorado. What I hoped was that Henry would be there when I got there and that he'd contact me when I arrived. Zip codes covered huge areas, and it wasn't as if just driving into one would get me where I needed to be. He'd hopefully be watching for me. If this was a trap, I didn't even care, honestly. If the Circuit had wanted me dead, I had no doubt I'd be dead by now, and I just couldn't live not knowing what had become of Henry. But there were those other strange things I couldn't forget, too--Mac's bizarre arrival at school, and Mr. Allen's disappearance. These things no doubt had to do with the Circuit. Mac especially was some sort of reminder, or a warning . . . and then Old Lisa's death. There were moving pieces that I couldn't place, and truthfully, when I thought too hard about it all, I had to admit to myself that I didn't really want to place them. My whole life--or as much as I knew of it--was a giant puzzle with so many bits missing, but what made me feel those most nervous weren't the missing parts but the lack of an edge, the absence of a border. Everything I knew about myself and about Henry and about our place in the world just sort of disappeared; there was no clear frame, and without that frame, how did I know where we belonged?

It was the lack of a frame that bound us together. Henry was the only one I could count on, and all I could do was keep hoping I hadn't lost him forever.

And then there was Paolo . . . I sighed as I walked in my circles around the lot. "What does he want with me?" I asked aloud.

Paolo acted innocent enough, but there was no way I could ever let my guard down with him. I couldn't trust him any more than I could ever trust Mrs. Hines. I'd trusted Mac, that long time ago, and he'd betrayed me. A little kid! That feeling of realizing someone wasn't who you thought they were rushed back at me, and I recalled the moment he'd tried to keep me out of Oliphant . . . All the horror of that night caused me to shiver unintentionally.

It was then that I stopped walking and looked over at the old storefront. Paolo was dead asleep, still, and I was getting bored. Even though the abandoned building creeped me out a little, I started toward it. A little exploration might be interesting. Maybe I could get inside and see what was left of the place.

There were huge rectangles where the ground-to-ceiling windows had been, five in all, and then the double-doors. All were boarded up with giant sheets of plywood, and these as well as the brick of the building were tagged with all kinds of graffiti, the kind that was a challenge to read for all its angles and strange fonts. I made my way around the building, not really touching any of it, just looking, perhaps for an entrance of some kind. There was a back door, but it was an actual slab of metal with a knob, not some planks of wood; there was no going in that way. And there was an L-shaped wooden wall where no doubt a dumpster or two had once sat. Old bits of paper and trash still hung out on the ground back there, maybe from the vandals who'd done the graffiti. Back at the front, I went to one of the windows and actually pushed a little on the plywood. It didn't budge. I tried all the windows, but they were the same as the first. Finally I pushed on the plywood behind the door, not expecting it to move, either, but it did. In fact, it gave way immediately, falling inward with a crash that scared me to death.

I peered into the gloom. That plywood had barely been in place; it was as if someone had just propped it there to make the door look boarded up. But once the clatter from the door died down, I didn't hear anything else inside, so I stepped through the missing door pane into the dust and dim of the old furniture store.

My eyes needed some time to adjust, and even when they did, they saw little; the only light came from the cracks around the plywood blocking out the windows as well as a strange shaft of pale white descending from what seemed to be the middle of the ceiling, yards away. Shadows were rampant, but most were close to the ground. This had been a furniture store, and it was unlikely that any sofas or tables were left in there. I progressed a little into the store, and I realized that the random piles were leaves and trash, most likely blown in from days when the windows hadn't been boarded properly. Otherwise, the place seemed empty as far as I could see, though the gloom in the way back was too thick for me to process.

Why was I in this building? The worst of my memories happened in dark places. I should probably go back to the car and grab Paolo's phone so I'd at least have a flashlight. But I didn't want to wake him. The place seemed pretty empty, but I wanted to know where that light in the middle was coming from. That was it--I'd go to that light, and then I'd go back out. The back of the building likely had no light at all, and there was no way I was wandering into total darkness for no reason other than curiosity.

Slowly, I walked toward the light. The path was clear enough, and when I got there, I looked up to see a skylight. It was clouded and covered with leaves, but there was enough light coming through to create the beam I'd seen from the door.

Nothing too interesting. But as I stood there, staring upward, I thought I heard something. A rustling, as if something were moving somewhere toward the rear of the building.

A cat, I told myself, or mice. Any number of animals could be inside--it was a perfect shelter for them. And if I'd been able to get in, no doubt animals had found their way in. Nevertheless, there was no way I wanted to stick around and deal with some wild animal. I started back to the door, feeling suddenly as if I were underwater and trying to swim up toward sunlight, feeling as if the entrance was a lot farther away than it had seemed coming in.

A whisper from somewhere behind.

I spun about, frozen momentarily, staring into the gloom. Nothing moved--complete silence. And then, clearly, near the shaft of white from the clouded skylight, a form darker than the black beyond shifted. It was big--human-sized--and it moved several feet to the side before melting back into the dark.

"No," I insisted aloud, and then I turned and ran toward the light that I knew to be the front door. I ran with the terror of someone who fears she's being chased, and I was out of that building so fast that I practically tripped out of the door frame and had to re-balance to gain my footing. Then I bolted toward the car, not looking back for a second.

Paolo was hanging out by the side of the car when he caught sight of me coming toward him. "There you are! Where were you? I thought--"

"Let's go!" I yelled through gasping breath. "We have to go, now!"

He was confused, I could tell, but I didn't stop to explain, and he didn't ask me to. The both of us got in the car and sped out of there so fast the tires squealed and left skid marks on the cracked asphalt.