My head feels like it’s loaded with molten lead. I don’t know what Jack gave me, but it definitely nailed my shoes to the floor for a while. I was out for a few minutes, then came to, stoned. Now I’m just tired, groggy, and frustrated as hell.

My house is full of cops who should be out looking for the kids. Schmidt has them, but no one knows where. Gil flew out of here an hour ago, saying he had a lead. Carrie—who’s left to baby-sit me—hasn’t heard from him since.

It’s dark out now. My kids are gone. I know they’re scared. I’m helpless. I don’t even know where Jack is. Someone said he left to go look for them. I can’t even imagine what he’s thinking. How could he possibly know where to start if the cops don’t know?

I hear a shout rise up from outside in the yard where twenty cops (at least) have staged themselves. Abingdon PD, the county Sheriff’s Department, and the State Police are all involved. I walk to the front door to see what the commotion is about, only to come face to face with Carrie, who’s coming inside.

“We’ve found them!” she says, a broad smile animating her face. “The kids are safe. Schmidt’s in custody. Come on, I’m taking you to them right now. Get your coat.”

“Where?” I ask, backing up, trying to think where my coat is.

“Near Whitetop,” Carrie says. “Come on. We should hurry.”

“Is everything okay? You said the kids were alright?” My moment of groggy relief turns to instant, caffeinated concern. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you in the car,” she says. “Now come on.”

I’m accustomed to red lights and sirens, but blue lights are another thing entirely. Carrie drives, sirens blaring, like a bat out of hell across the county, cars pulling over ahead of her like a hot knife cutting through butter.

“Jack found the kids,” she tells me. “He told Gil where he was headed, and Gil followed with back-up. There’s no signal up there and the radio is sporadic. The cabin is remote, tucked up in a hollow on the west side of Whitetop, near Bill’s Ridge.”

That’s not exactly the edge of the universe, but I think you can see it from there.

We do most of the nearly hour-long trip in silence. I’ve got very little to say until I see the kids, and know they really are alright. I’m eternally grateful to Jack and to Gil, but I still don’t understand how Schmidt got out of the hospital. He was supposed to be arrested and charged as soon as he was mobile enough to have handcuffs installed.

Carrie turns off the paved road onto a bumpy, muddy fire road that feels like it’s going straight up. The SUVs headlight barely illuminate the way in front of us, its so dark and overgrown.

“The reason we had to hurry,” Carrie says, speaking for the first time in a long time. “It’s because Jack wouldn’t leave the kids until you got there. Gil and CPS tried to convince him they’d be okay, but he wouldn’t listen.” She glances across at me. “Dillon, Jack was shot. EMS is there with him, and he’s stable. But he needs to—”

“Shot?” I interrupt, the word reverberating inside my skull. “What? How?”

“I don’t know the details,” Carrie says. “Only that he’s conscious and refusing transport ‘til you get there. He won’t leave the kids with CPS.”

Of course he won’t. He knows they’re terrified they’ll be taken away and put in foster care. After this, after all they’ve been through, they must be paralyzed with fear.

Up ahead I see strobing blue lights and intense spotlights illuminating the forest. An ambulance is parked in the road, it’s lights on inside and out, its rear doors open. As we near, I make our Jordan’s profile in the light from within. He’s standing in the back door, holding onto the metal frame overhead, with a thin blanket draped over his shoulders.

“Stop!” I say to Carrie. “Let me out!”

She brakes, but I come out of the SUV before it halts, stumbling in the mud and on the uneven road surface, running toward the ambulance.

“Jordan!” I call as loud as I can. He turns toward me. It’s then I see Chrissy and Joey huddled on the floor of the EMS bus, their small hands up, hanging onto something. Several people cluster around the back of the vehicle, but I only have eyes for the kids. Jordan comes off the tailgate, landing in my arms, hugging me around the waist.

“They wouldn’t let us go with him,” Jordan cries. “And he won’t go.”

“It’s okay now,” I say, cupping Jordan’s head to my chest, holding him close. I see Jack now, laying on a gurney under a blanket, his chest bare even in this cold weather. A bulky nest of blood seeped packing covers a wound on his right shoulder. His side and chest are pock marked with swollen red holes. His hand is outstretched, holding Chrissy and Joey’s hands together in his left. His eyes are open, but he’s pale and still.

“Chrissy, Joey,” I say, pulling Jordan with me, climbing into the back of the ambulance. “Jack…”

The kids crowd around me. Joey takes hold of my belt with his free hand.

Jack turns his head toward me, blinking, his eyes dull, unfocused. “Good,” he says, smiling like he’s dreaming. “You’re here. Took you long enough.”

“I’m here,” I say, cupping his face in my hand. “We’re all here.”

He blinks again. “Take the kids home,” he says. “They’ve had a shitty day. Tell that Landry lady from CPS she can kiss my queer ass.”

An EMS tech from the station at Damascus comes on board behind me, further crowding the small space. I recognize him from various accident scenes and county barbecues.

“We really need to get him to the ER,” he says, checking Dillon’s vitals. “Can you clear the kids out? He was freaking out earlier. They were freaking out. We just need to get him transported.”

“Where are you taking him?” I ask.

“Roanoke,” he says. “He should have been there an hour ago.”

I lean over Jack, pressing my lips to his. “I’m right behind you,” I say softly, brushing his pale skin. “I love you so much. Cooperate now. I’ve got the kids. They’re safe.”

He nods, swallowing hard. “I love you too,” he mumbles. “See you when I see you. I’m going now.” He closes his eyes, passing out.

“It’s time to wake up, Jack,” the tech insists, rolling Jack’s head, bouncing the gurney. Jack’s eyes, glassy and unfocused, open. He glances around, confused.

“Stay awake, Jack,” I call, pulling the kids back, stepping out of the ambulance so they can take Jack. The kids cling to me. Joey hugs my thigh. Chrissy leans into my hip. Even Jordan is close, a finger looped loosely into my pinky, but hanging on none-the-less.

We watch the ambulance doors close and hear the engine throttle up. A second later the siren wails and the lights flash as it pulls forward, turning around in the narrow road, then it passes us slowly, headed down the mountain. The kids pull closer to me as it moves out of view.

When it’s gone, when all we can hear is the sound of its sirens fading in the cold night air, I drop to my knees, wrapping my arms around all three kids, drawing them tight into me.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, unable to halt the tears that come with my words. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s all my fault. I should have been there when you got off the bus. I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Jordan says. “No. It’s good you weren’t.”

I look up into Jordan’s eyes. I don’t understand.

“He had a gun,” Jordan says. “He came to shoot you and take us. He was so mad you weren’t there, but you didn’t come. He made us get in the truck. He would have killed you if you’d been there.”

“Did he say that?” I ask, finding it so odd, so hard to process.

All three of them nod their heads in agreement.

“He’s crazy,” Chrissy says, matter-of-factly. “Bat shit crazy.”

I can’t help but laugh, hearing her succinct delivery of just how things are. I love these kids so much. They bring me so much joy, even when things are so thoroughly messed up. I can’t imagine not having them in my life. I can’t imagine not having them in our life. Me, Jack, and the kids. We’re a family, and I don’t care what Mrs. Landry from CPS says, Jack is as important a member of the family as any of us.

He saved these kids’ lives.

“You need a ride?” a familiar voice asks, approaching from behind. Gil steps up, his cop hat in hand, carrying his big winter coat over his arm.

I nod. “Yeah. Home first,” I say, looking back at Gil. My heart still skips a beat when I see Gil, but it belongs to Jack. “I want to get the kids home. Then to the hospital.”

“I figured that,” he replies, pointing us toward his Suburban. “I already called Ginny. She’s meeting us at your house. She’ll stay with the kids tonight.”

“You’re the best,” I say, shaking my head with exhaustion and disbelief at everything that’s happened today. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Gil smiles at me, that disarming, deceptively humble smile that makes him so damn charming. “You’d do the same for me,” he says. “I think you have once or twice.”

“You guys ready to go home?” I ask my clinging brood. “To all the TV you want to watch, all the cookies you want to eat, no bedtimes, and no school tomorrow?”

Their faces brighten. Jordan even laughs.

“I thought so,” I say. “Come on. Let’s get you people home.”

“Home,” says Jordan. “Yeah, let’s go home.”