Right after my husband left for his business trip, my six-year-old gripped my hand and quietly said, “Mom… we can’t go back home. This morning I heard Dad on the phone, talking about something that involves us and it didn’t sound right.” So we didn’t go back.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Then listen carefully to me. Get in your car right now and do not talk to anyone,” she commanded.

“Drive to this address in the old district,” she said as she gave me the coordinates.

“If anyone calls you, do not pick up the phone,” she added.

I hung up and sat for a second. The phone felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

“We are leaving,” I told Toby. “We are going somewhere safe.”

I started the SUV and drove away from the fire without looking back. The city felt different after midnight.

Toby fell asleep in the back seat with his dinosaur backpack as his pillow. I kept checking my mirrors for any headlights that followed too closely.

When I reached the old district, the neighborhood was mostly dark. Sarah’s office was in a narrow brick building with a plain wooden door.

Before I could even press the buzzer, the door opened. A woman with gray hair and sharp eyes stood there.

“Ayira?” she asked.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Come in quickly,” she said.