CORRIE

My forehead pressed tightly against the dark-tinted window, my reflection staring back at me from the glass. How long had we been on the road? I could hardly tell. But what I could tell you was how long it took to get from Baysride to Springville, how I cried, mourning the deaths of four people, and how the same three men had followed us from the helicopter all the way down to the sedan we were in now.

One of the men was obviously the driver, while the other sat in the passenger seat, sneaking a few glances at us in the back. The third sat between Mimi and...