I huddled in the back seat and watched the moon appear and disappear among the clouds. The land was mostly treeless, but there were areas of rolling hills and stands of trees along river beds when we crossed bridges. Traffic was thin and the hum of tires on pavement monotonous. I fought to stay awake, knowing sleep would bring dreams of the assault on the cabin and Mom's death.
Was Hannah my mother or my stepmother? Stepmother, if what Margo and Brian were saying was true, but she would always be Mom to me, and she was going to be buried by strangers, people who were related to her by blood but didn't really know or love her. After all, when she was little, they had abandoned her in foster care with people who abused her so badly that she would rather die than live to see Michael in that situation.
And Michael. I couldn't bear to think of him all alone without his ring of keys and stuffed tiger and favorite blanket. Wherever he was, the people didn't know he wanted a lullaby at night. No one would sing "Twinkle, twinkle, little star" until his eyelids drooped and finally closed in sleep.
Margo and Brian had hinted that they were willing to find out where Michael was and get custody of him, but it was a hint, not a promise, and probably they would have said anything to get me to come with them. It was beginning to seem less likely that they were government agents trying to get information on my father, but I couldn’t rule it out. Even if they were my family, they could still be working for the government. Margo probably hated Dad for running away with me, if that was what really happened, and would do whatever the government wanted to get me back.
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