Chapter 1
The night my stepmother left me on U.S. Highway 50, I was nine years old.
I remember the rain more than anything.
It came sideways across the mountains, cold enough to make my fingers hurt and hard enough to turn the road into a shining black river.
I stood on the shoulder wrapped in a thin silver emergency blanket Valerie kept in the trunk.
It snapped around me in the wind.
My clothes were soaked.
My shoes were on the wrong feet.
I had put them on too quickly when Valerie ordered me out of the car.
The only thing I had managed to grab properly was my battered copy of Charlotte’s Web.
I held it against my chest.
Maybe because Dad had given it to me before he died.
Maybe because it was the last thing in my life that still felt kind.
Twenty minutes earlier, Valerie had pulled over without warning.
No screaming.
That would have been easier.
Valerie almost never screamed.
She could make a whisper feel worse than a slap.
She stopped the car, unlocked my door, and looked at me.
“Get out.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Rain hammered the windows.
I looked outside.
There were no houses.
No stores.
Only highway, mountains, and darkness.
“Please.”
Her expression didn’t change.
“You need to learn consequences.”
“For what?”
That question made her smile.
Not kindly.
“That is exactly your problem, Emery.”
I searched my mind.
The cereal bowl?
The school notice I had hidden?
Talking after she told me to be quiet?
Breathing too loudly?
With Valerie, I never knew.
“Please don’t leave me here.”
She reached across me and opened my door.
Cold rain rushed inside.
“Out.”
I stepped onto the pavement.
Before I could ask when she was coming back, the door slammed.
Her red SUV disappeared into the storm.
I stood there waiting.
At first I believed she would turn around.
One minute.
Two.
Five.
She didn’t.
So I counted.
Numbers helped.
One.
Two.
Three.
I counted to one hundred.
Then five hundred.
Then one thousand.
Cars passed.
None stopped.
Their headlights struck me and vanished.
I began wondering whether I was too small to matter.
Then the road started trembling.
I thought it was thunder.
But the sound grew deeper.
Engines.
I looked west.
Lights appeared through the rain.
Dozens of them.
Then more.
Motorcycles.
A huge convoy stretched down the highway, their headlights cutting through the storm.
I stepped farther from the road.
My heart pounded.
The first motorcycle slowed.
Then the one behind it.
Then all of them.
More than a hundred riders pulled over.
The lead rider removed his helmet.
He was enormous.
Gray beard.
Black leather vest.
Heavy boots.
He walked toward me.
I backed away.
He immediately stopped.
Then he lowered himself onto one knee.
“Hey there, sweetheart.”
His voice was gentle.
“You shouldn’t be standing out here.”
I said nothing.
“What’s your name?”
“Emery.”
“I’m Hank.”
He pointed toward the riders.
“These are my friends.”
I looked behind him.
Nobody approached.
They seemed to understand I was scared.
Hank looked at my bare legs, wet clothes, and wrong shoes.
“Where are your parents?”
“My dad died.”
His face changed.
“And your mom?”
“I don’t know.”
That was what Valerie had always told me.
My real mother had left when I was a baby.
Hank nodded slowly.
“Who brought you here?”
“My stepmom.”
His eyes sharpened.
“She left you?”
“She said I needed consequences.”
For a second, something furious crossed his face.
Then it disappeared.
He removed his jacket.
“Can I put this around you?”
I nodded.
The jacket was huge and warm.
Someone brought an umbrella.
Another rider called emergency services.
A woman named Rosa knelt beside me and gently fixed my shoes.
“You had them switched, honey.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you change them?”
“I thought Valerie might come back.”
Rosa looked away.
Hank stayed beside me.
“You’re not alone anymore.”
I wanted to believe him.
Then my phone buzzed.
I had forgotten it was inside my backpack.
Valerie almost never let me carry it, but I had used it for a school project that day.
The screen showed one message.
VALERIE.
WHERE ARE YOU?
I stared.
Another message appeared.
DO NOT TALK TO ANYONE.
Then another.
IF ANYONE ASKS, YOU RAN AWAY.
My hands started shaking.
Hank saw my face.
“What happened?”
I showed him.
His expression hardened.
Before he could speak, another message arrived.
This one wasn’t from Valerie.
Unknown number.
It contained only a photograph.
A woman with long brown hair holding a newborn baby.
Me.
I knew it was me because the baby wore the same little silver bracelet Dad had kept in his desk.
Under the picture were six words.
EMERY, YOUR MOTHER NEVER LEFT YOU.
My breath stopped.
Another message appeared.
VALERIE KNOWS WHERE SHE IS.
I looked at Hank.
“I don’t understand.”
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
Hank asked, “Want me to answer?”
I shook my head.
Somehow, I knew the call was for me.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A woman began crying.
Not quietly.
Like she had waited years to hear my voice.
“Emery?”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Yes?”
She took a broken breath.
“Oh, baby.”
My heart started pounding.
“Who are you?”
For several seconds, she couldn’t answer.
Then she whispered the words that changed my entire life.
“My name is Claire Quinn.”
May you like
I stopped breathing.
“And I’m your mother.”
