They’d headed west on Highway 26 toward the coast, driven up and over the mountain range, but then turned off after the highway had almost returned to sea level. According to a highway sign, they’d summited the range at sixteen hundred feet, but the mountains rose up higher around the road. It wasn’t much of a highway; a lot of the time the road was two lanes. Thankfully there’d been almost no traffic.

The other drivers were smart, Trinity admitted. Who would be on the road in this wet mess? She expected to see an ark float by at any minute. Yesterday, there’d been mudslides in the West Hills of Portland and in one of the coastal communities, moving homes and wrecking barns. The rain showed no sign of letting up, smashing records for the month. Wind whipped the firs lining the roads, scattering forest debris.

She’d said a prayer as she drove through a tunnel on the highway. The tunnel had been dedicated to a highway worker who died years back when part of the tunnel roof collapsed as he inspected it for water damage. She’d whispered one prayer for his soul and one for her safe passage. Today she’d fought the urge to close her eyes as she drove through; not a good idea.

She spotted the turn, marked by a tiny street sign, and carefully guided the car through the ruts. “This is crazy. How much farther is it?”

“Not too far.”

“You’ve been saying that since we left.”

“It just seems longer because you have to drive so slow.”

Trinity bit her tongue. Damn right she was going slow. She was terrified that one of the ruts would be deeper than it looked. The road was nearly all standing water. It was hard to see. Rain pounded the roof of the car, huge drops falling from the firs. She could barely hear Jason’s words.

Why had she agreed to drive him to his grandfather’s? Katy was going to have a fit when she saw the dirty car. Maybe the rain would wash it off by the time she got home. She glanced at the clock in the dash. She hadn’t checked in with Katy since that morning. The time with Jason had flown by, and she’d totally spaced on her responsibility.

“Would you look at my phone in my purse? See if Katy’s called me?” she asked Jason.

He turned and snagged her purse from the backseat, and then gingerly poked through it until he pulled out her cell. He pressed the screen a few times and frowned. “Your phone’s dead. Do you have a car charger?”

“No, it’s in the other car.” Crap. Katy was going to have her head. “Can I use your phone to call her when we get there?”

“Yeah. Not a problem.” He set her purse in the backseat.

“She’s going to kill me,” she muttered.

“You didn’t tell her where you were going?” he asked.

“No. And usually I’m not gone this long. Not without checking in, anyway.”

“My dad doesn’t care where I go, let alone if I check in,” he said.

Trinity studied him out of the corner of her eye. Jason’s face was glum. She’d felt like that before. Where no one cared what the hell happened to you. Katy’s rules had taken a bit of getting used to, but Trinity realized it felt good to have someone give a rip about where you were. “If you didn’t show up one night, he’d worry.”

Jason looked out his side window. She saw his jaw move.

“I can’t hear you.”

He turned. “I said I wasn’t sure of that.”

“He’s your dad. Of course he cares what happens to you. What about your mom?”

“My mom left years ago. She divorced my dad and left when I was five. I don’t really remember her. She lives in Idaho now. She remarried.”

“Right, you told me that. She doesn’t keep in touch?” Trinity was prying, but her curiosity was piqued.

Jason shrugged. “I get a birthday card. But my dad always opens them and reads them first. He says he doesn’t want her telling me any lies about him.” He paused. “I’ve seen him take letters before. Letters that were addressed to me. When I asked for them, he said he read them first and they were full of lies. That she was trying to turn me against him.”

Trinity struggled to understand. “I don’t get it. What could she say that would make a difference? She’s the one who left, right?”

Jason wiped at his nose and shifted in his seat. “Kyle’s mom left, too.”

“Kyle with the gun?”

“Yeah, I told you we’d kinda grown up together. Our parents hung out together. Kyle’s mom left about two years ago. He’s always been really angry with her about it.”

Trinity didn’t know what to say. Kyle plainly needed therapy. Did his father not see it? “Kyle needs help.”

“Yeah, but that’s not allowed.”

“What?” She pulled her gaze from the swamped road to actually look right at him. “What’s that mean?”

Jason squirmed. “Grandpa doesn’t think he needs it.”

“What does your grandfather have to do with Kyle?”

Jason was silent, and Trinity focused on the road. That’s not allowed. It reminded her of when he’d said “they punish.” What kind of family had Jason grown up in? “You said Kyle wasn’t family, right?”

“Not really. We sorta belonged to the same church. But I don’t go anymore. At least I try not to. My grandfather runs the whole thing. It’s hard to say I don’t belong to his church, because I feel like I’m denying he’s my grandfather.”