My Foster Parents' Fatal Mistake

with the smell of gasoline an

oyed. The driver was slumped over the steering wheel, unconscious. His partner

s were crying, da

on. Adrenaline surged through

e a mixture of pain and pure hatr

ked his injured leg, hard. He screamed, a raw, agonizin

ennifer was staring at me, her ey

hoarse but clear. "They're criminals. They

ey just stared,

oor open. "Get into the woods! Cal

the ruined van, disappearing into the dark

ot in the same directi

ut the burner phone. A cheap, untraceable device I'd bought for cash week

ent a series of anonymous, detailed text messages. One to

s like Barney, the routes their transport vans used, their methods of communication. I l

Wi-Fi hotspot I knew was in range from a nearby truck stop. I found their internal com

ting a communications blackout for this local cell. It would iso

rner phone itself. I set a timer for one hour. Then I

ck it. And in one hour, it would broadcast its lo

ugh my clothes, and started walking. I needed t