The spot is deliberate: no cameras, no foot traffic, just a cracked patch of asphalt that most people never notice. I stop beside a dull gray 2012 Honda Accord that looks like every other rental car in a fifty-mile radius—faded paint, dented rear bumper, nothing to draw the eye.
This is how we’re moving right now. No other option. It’s about keeping things low and off the radar.
I fish the spare key fob from the magnetic box taped under the wheel well and press the unlock button. The lights flash once, weakly, like the car itself is embarrassed to be seen.
Landon raises an eyebrow as I open the passenger door for him.
“This is your emergency ride?” he asks.
I shrug and circle to the driver’s side. “Worst part of the job. I have to drive something that doesn’t scream armed professional. So, yeah, the car sucks. I get it.”
He slides into the seat, fastens his belt, and actually smiles—a small, tired thing, but real. “You sound personally offended by the upholstery.”
“I am,” I laugh. I drop into the driver’s seat, start the engine, and let the four-cylinder cough to life. “This thing has the personality of wet cardboard.”
The boy’s quiet laugh fills the cabin for a second, bright and unexpected. I feel the knot in my chest loosen by half a turn. It’s a tiny victory, but right now I’ll take any victory I can get.
I pull out of the lot slowly, headlights off until we hit the main road, then merge into traffic like we belong there.
No sudden moves.
No racing away.
Just another gray sedan in a sea of gray sedans.
We leave the city behind in stages: first the downtown towers shrink in the rearview, then the industrial parks give way to strip malls, then the strip malls thin out and the highway opens up.
Landon watches the scenery slide past in silence for a long while. His hands stay folded in his lap, Claw peeking out of the top of his backpack on the floor between his feet.
After twenty minutes he finally speaks.
“Where are wereallygoing?”
I keep my eyes on the road. “Not straight to the motel. Too early. Too predictable. We need to burn a few hours somewhere crowded, somewhere normal. There’s a lot to be said for hiding in plain sight. I know a place about thirty minutes from here. An indoor waterpark. Big family resort. Slides, wave pool, lazy river. Thousands of people. We blend in.”
He turns his head to look at me fully. “A waterpark!”
“Yeah.”
A beat of silence.
“I don’t have a swimsuit,” Landon says. “And I don’t think they’ll let me go naked. As fun as that might be…”
“We’ll buy what we need there,” I say, ignoring the naked comment. “They’ve got a gift shop. Towels, suits, flip-flops. Everything.”
He chews his bottom lip for a second, then nods. “Okay.”
I risk a sideways glance. “You don’t sound thrilled.”
“I’m thrilled,” Landon says, and this time the smile is a little wider. “I just didn’t expect my kidnapping getaway to include inner tubes and chlorine.”
I snort despite myself. “Neither did I.”
The tension eases another notch.
We don’t speak much after that. The radio stays off. The only sound is the hum of tires on the road and the occasional sigh of the heater kicking on. Landon leans his head against the window and closes his eyes. I don’t know if he’s sleeping or just pretending, but I let him have the quiet.
This is a lot for the boy.
