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I’ll help,” you say, reaching over into the bag where it sits on Kim’s lap. You find the inner mesh pocket where you’d stashed the phone, slide it out, and hand it to her.
    “Thanks,” Kim says, taking it delicately from you. “I’m glad to have it back. It’s not as easy for me to get phones as it once was. I have to hang on to them.”
    You don’t really have a response to that, or to anything, really. You are not sure what’s happening in your brain. It’s kind of a mess of feelings and emotions and things you don’t totally understand, and honestly you can’t even really breathe, like at all; it’s like someone very heavy is suddenly sitting on your chest.
    Oh, you’re having a panic attack.
    “Whoa, hey,” Kim says. She undoes her seat belt and slides across the seat to you. She places her hand gently but firmly on your back. “Just breathe slowly. Close your eyes. It’s okay. You’re not dying. I promise.” You close your eyes and breathe and focus on Kim’s touch, her voice. She feels real. It helps you feel like you’re not completely disconnected from reality.
    “That was pretty intense back there,” she says. “I’m sorry. I’ve gotten used to it, but I’m sure that was, like, a lot.”
    You nod and turn to look out the window. You’re being driven away from the city. It’s just a mass of yellow lights receding into the darkness.
    “Where are we going?” you ask.
    “Somewhere safe,” Kim says.
    “Are you dropping me off somewhere? A train station or something? I don’t mind. I’m not sure I have enough money for a ticket, but I’ll figure it out. I’ll be okay. I promise.” You nod atKim, trying to reassure her. What are you reassuring her about? Why are you crying? Why do you feel like the thing inside your heart is about to claw its way out of your chest?
    Kim keeps rubbing your back. “So. Your boyfriend has figured out by now that you know me. Which means: (a) he’s not your boyfriend anymore, and (b) you can’t really go home. And, well, (c) upside, they are definitely not expecting you back at work tomorrow. You’re safer with us now.”
    “But I need to go back,” you say. “I need to explain.”
    “What do you need to explain? Your boyfriend’s task force was shooting at you. They’re the ones who need to explain. I’m really sorry that I got you involved in this, but like, honestly, you kind of already were, whether or not you realized it.”
    You keep running over the events at the mall in your mind. Had your boyfriend known you were with Kim? He’d known you were working, but the rest was just coincidence, right? He wouldn’t blame you. It would be okay. He was your boyfriend. He was just trying to do the right thing. And what were you doing? How were you repaying him? By hanging out with criminals.
    At some point after dusk, the Range Rover exits the highway and is driving through a town now. Sleepy blue TV lights glow out from the windows on houses set far back from the street, far from each other.
    You all keep driving until the town falls away and everything becomes empty woodland and farmland. Then the car turns off onto a dirt road that you definitely would never have found on your own, even with Google Maps.
    “We’re just switching cars,” Kim says. “Then we’ll get to the house.”
    “We’re going to your house?” you ask.
    Kim shakes her head. “Just a house. I can’t risk staying anywhere too long.”
    The car pulls to a stop. Kim opens her door, and you slide outon your side. The driver is already out of the car, and as you exit, she goes around to the back, lifts the tailgate, and pulls out a red plastic gas container, which she proceeds to dump all over the car.
    Watching her, you see that the driver is tall and thin. Her hair is as dark as Kim’s, but her skin is paler, almost translucent in the moonlight. She’s wearing black boots, leather pants and jacket. There’s a gracefulness to every move she makes. Like a