Jones lifted his hand toward the rear door like a driver.
“Get in," he said.
He opened the back door first. I did not look at him. I walked to the front passenger side, pulled the handle, and sat down. The seat was clean. The dashboard lights were steady. I buckled the belt.
Behind us, Sophia slipped into the back seat. The car filled with a light lemon smell. She folded her hands on her lap and said nothing.
Jones stood there a second with the back door open, then shut it and came around to the driver's side. He started the engine. His jaw was tight. He checked the mirrors like a man trying to find the right script.
No one spoke as we left the camp road. Trees slid by. The tires hummed. A guard post fell behind us. The sky was thin blue. The silence worked for me. It let my head stay
