It was a fully vetted, high-security temporary care facility for families of municipal workers and aviation staff facing domestic crises.

The location was unlisted, protected by private security guards and high concrete walls.

“Mark,” Clara said, her voice warm and maternal. “What’s wrong?”

“I need your help,” I said. “I have four children who need immediate, secure housing.”

“Are they in danger?” she asked.

“Their father is involved with dangerous people,” I said. “They have targeted my apartment.”

“Bring them,” Clara said. “I have two empty suites in the south wing.”

“We will be there in twenty minutes,” I said.

“I will notify our gate guard,” Clara said. “Use the rear entrance on 12th Avenue.”

I hung up and walked down the hallway.

Hannah was trying to wake Toby, who was rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“Is it time to go to the beach?” Toby asked.

“No, buddy,” I said, kneeling beside his bed. “We are going on a special adventure.”

“At night?” he asked.

“The best adventures happen at night,” I said.

I helped Lily tie her sneakers while Hannah gathered the baby clothes for Mia.