I slammed the car into reverse and backed down the driveway, the tires crunching loudly over the gravel.

We spun onto the main road.

Claire looked back through the rear window.

“He’s running to his car,” she said.

“We have to get to the highway,” I said, my hands gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.

“He can’t catch us if we get into traffic,” she said.

She was clutching her backpack against her chest like a shield.

I drove fast, exceeding the speed limit as we passed the neat, identical lawns of our neighbors.

The afternoon light was fading fast, leaving a cold, grey twilight over the valley.

“Where are we going?” Claire asked.

“The diner first,” I said. “Rose is waiting there.”

“Is she?” Claire asked, her voice softening.

“Yes,” I said. “She has been waiting for twenty years.”

We drove in silence for ten minutes. My heart did not stop racing.

Every pair of headlights in my rearview mirror looked like Richard’s SUV.

I kept looking back, expecting the blinding high beams to appear behind us.