L is for Lawless (Kinsey Millhone 12)

Laura leaned forward against the front seat. "What's wrong?"

"I left my plane ticket back there."

"Uh-oh. Well, it's gone now," she said, stating the obvious with what looked like a smirk. If I hadn't been at the wheel, I'd have leapt in the backseat and bitten her.

Ray must have seen the expression that crossed my face. "Where we headed?" he asked, probably hoping to avoid a rabies quarantine.

"I don't even know where we are," I groused.

I pointed to the glove compartment. "You got a map in there?"

He opened the glove compartment, which was empty except for the rental car contract and a whisk broom with chewed-looking bristles. He snapped it shut and checked the passenger door pocket. I slid a hand into the pocket on my side, coming up with assorted papers, one a neatly folded map of the United States. Ray grunted with satisfaction and flipped on the overhead light. Spread out, the crackling map took up most of the available space. "Looks like you need to keep an eye out for U.S. 30 heading northeast."

"Where to?"

Laura glanced over at him. "I bet to Louisville, right?"

He turned to her. "You got a problem with that?"

"Gilbert's not a fool, Ray. Where you think he's going?"

"So the guy goes to Louisville. Who gives a shit? We're talking about a twelve-hour drive. He's never going to figure out which route we took."

"Listen, Einstein. There's only one" she said.

"Can't be. That's bullshit. There must be half a dozen," he said.

She reached over and snatched the map away. "You been in prison too long." I could hear her flap the map noisily in the backseat, refolding it while she found the section showing Dallas and points east. "Look at this. There's maybe one other way to go, but 30's the obvious choice. All Gilbert has to do is drive like a maniac and get there first."

"How's he going to find us? Once we get to town, we'll take a couple motel rooms and use fictitious names. Pay cash and call ourselves anything we want. Isn't that what you did?"

"Yeah, and look what happened. Kinsey found me in no time flat. So did Gilbert, for that matter."

"It was a fluke. Finding you was pure accident. Ask her," he said.

"I wouldn't call it a fluke," I said, taking offense.

"You know what I mean. The point is, it's not like you deduced what she was calling herself and tracked her down from that. All you did was follow her, right?"

"Yeah, but what about Gilbert? How'd he manage it?" I asked.

Ray shrugged. "He probably persuaded Farley to spill the beans."

From the backseat, Laura moaned. "Oh, jeez. Is that true? I hadn't thought about that. You think Farley's okay?"

"I can't worry about that right now," Ray said.

I glanced back at Laura, still in charge of the map. "What's the nearest big town between here and there?"

Laura checked the map again. "We get to Texarkana first and then Little Rock. After that it's Memphis, then Nashville, and straight on up. Why?"

"Because I'm heading home. We'll take a side trip to the airport in Little Rock and I'll catch a plane."

"What about your ticket?" Ray asked.

"I'll call a friend of mine. He'll help."

Laura said, "In the meantime, how about a pit stop before I wet my pants?"

"Sounds good to me," Ray said.

I watched the highway signs until I spotted an off-ramp that boasted the international symbols for food and potty chairs. Half a block off the road, we found a poorly lighted independent gas station with a cafe attached. Even Gilbert wasn't canny enough to ferret us out here. The gas tank was still very close to full, so I bypassed the pumps and parked off to one side, away from the street. Ray headed for the men's room while Laura opened the trunk and pulled out her duffel bag. "You can borrow my dress."

In the sour light of the ladies' room, I removed my Reeboks and wet socks and then peeled off my damp blazer, blue jeans, turtleneck, and soggy undergarments. I was shivering again, but Laura's dry clothes began to warm me almost as soon as I pulled them on. She still wore the dark green corduroy jumper with a white turtleneck under it while I was assigned the denim dress, a pair of tights, and slightly oversize tennis shoes. "See you in a minute," she said. She left the rest room, giving me a few minutes alone.

I ran water in the sink until the hot came through, then rinsed my face and doused my head, washing out the smell of smoke. I used the harsh paper toweling to dry my hair, then used my fingers to comb the strands into place. I felt a wave of nausea rush through me like a hot flash. I put my hands on the sink, leaning on my arms, while I composed myself. Sunday night and I was stuck in some nameless Dallas suburb with an ex-con, his daughter, and a papoose of illicit cash. I let out a big breath and stared at my reflection in the dingy mirror. I shrugged ruefully. Things could (probably) be worse. So far, no one had been hurt and I had a few bucks left. I was looking forward to a meal, though I'd have to depend on my companions to pay for it. As soon as we got to Little Rock, I'd put a call through to Henry, who would come to my rescue. He could wire me money, buy the airline ticket on his credit card, or some combination thereof. By morning I'd be safely tucked in my bed, catching up on my sleep while I counted my blessings.