The Flour Girl
Chapter 12 — The Map
Then, tucked into the mesh pocket inside the lid of the open suitcase, I found the thing that, for me, sealed it: a map.
It was a hand-drawn map of our entire state, carefully sketched, and across it Jacqueline had marked a series of small red crosses in various locations.
My eyes went cold as I traced them.
One bold red mark sat directly over the town near Roanoke where Zachary and I went every Saturday to the farmers market, the very stall where we bought our summer peaches.
Others were scattered into quiet rural valleys and along remote state highways I had never once had reason to drive, lonely little crosses in the middle of nowhere, a network of secret locations spread across the map like the plan for a route.