Through the thin curtains, the parking lot stretched empty and silent. Beyond it, the highway curved into darkness, swallowed by the kind of quiet that made you listen too hard.

A floorboard creaked as someone shifted their weight.

Jack was sitting on the floor near the foot of the bed, legs crossed, running his fingers absently through Diego's fur. The dog's tail gave a lazy thump against the carpet, but his head stayed up, ears swiveling toward the door every few seconds.

Martha straightened from where she'd been sorting through a bag near the window, a small can of something in her hand. She didn't say anything, just waited, the same way everyone else was waiting.