Through the rain-streaked window, Alexis watched Lindsey Meadows shrink into a furious, pink speck. The bus pulled out of the station, past the strip malls and the pawn shops, toward the dark, open highway.
The runaway was over. The living was about to begin.
Kis was last. She turned her head, just enough for Meadows to see the hard set of her jaw. Then she dropped a single, folded piece of paper onto the wet pavement. It was a list of every violation, every skimmed dollar, every “accidental” lock-in of the basement. A copy was already in an envelope addressed to the state licensing board, sitting in a mailbox two blocks away.
Veronique knew. She’d been there a year longer than Alexis. That’s why she had the plan.
It was the love of girls who had no one, and so became everything for each other.
