My knees throbbed by the second mile, but I kept my chin down and my coat buttoned tight against the wind.

The sign for the Crestview Coffee Shop was buzzing red in the gray morning drizzle when I finally reached the sidewalk.

Chloe was sitting in a corner booth near the back, a cardboard cup of black coffee between her hands.

She jumped when I pulled out the chair across from her.

“Aunt Margaret, why are your clothes wet?” Chloe asked.

“Daniel turned off my phone and locked my bank cards,” I said, leaning over the small wooden table.