Hayley screamed as she sat wedged between Mona and Liddy in the front seat of Mona’s pickup truck. They were tailgating a red Honda Accord as it cruised over the Trenton Bridge, which connected Mount Desert Island to the mainland. “Faster, Mona, we’re going to lose them,” Liddy squealed. “If I go any faster, I’ll rear-end them,” Mona barked. Her hands were gripping the steering wheel as they closed in on the Accord. “I almost don’t even want to know where they’re going,” Hayley wailed. Hayley’s worst fears were becoming a reality. She was coming to suspect that Gemma’s withdrawal and her moodiness were far more serious than a failing grade or boy trouble. At this moment her only daughter was in the backseat of a car with a gang of local thugs and druggies. She was probably on her way to a meth lab operated out of a trailer in the woods outside of Bangor. Or worse. Hayley had heard all the stories: How one day your kid starts acting differently. No longer the bright, happy child who draws you a homemade Mother’s Day card.
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