“Elena, that is a dangerous game,” Lydia said.

“He has a temporary protection order against him in Connecticut,” I said. “If he follows me across state lines and approaches me, he violates it. He will lose all leverage in the custody hearing.”

“The local police would have to enforce it,” Lydia said. “You would need proof of contact.”

“I will get the proof,” I said. “I just need you to notify the sheriff’s department in York County.”

There was a long silence on the line.

“Go to a public area,” Lydia said finally. “Nowhere secluded. A park. Somewhere with witnesses.”

“I understand,” I said.

I hung up the phone.

I drove through the night.

The highway was a black ribbon stretching through Massachusetts and New Hampshire.

By dawn, I crossed the bridge into Maine.

The sky was a pale, watery gray.

The ocean appeared on my right, dark and churning under the morning mist.

I chose a small, quiet coastal town called Cape Neddick.

I stopped at a small diner near the harbor.

The neon sign in the window hummed in the quiet morning.