She whacked off her hair just above the shoulders, trying to ignore the chunks dropping to the floor. Finished, she stared at her reflection in the murky bathroom mirror. Her hair was ragged, the left side shorter than the right.

What had she done?

First Premonition, then her hair. Was she losing her mind?

Don’t think, she told herself. Just act. She shoved her remaining hair under the cap. In the bedroom, she rolled up a black skirt and stuffed it in her bag.

Before leaving the room, she opened the door a crack and checked to see if anyone was around, then she slipped from the room. Jamming her hands deep into the front pockets of her loose jeans, she adopted a head-down posture, walking with long, loose strides, so anyone seeing her would think she was a teenager just bumming around.

She headed straight for the train tracks, intending to follow them to the nearest town.

As she walked, the parallel rails disappeared into shimmering heat waves. Sun beat down from above, baking her inside the flannel shirt. Her scalp, under the cap, began to sweat and itch.

It took less than an hour to reach a town called Shanghai City, and in that time Cleo didn’t see a soul. Fortunately, the tracks ran behind a gas station on the edge of town, and she could see what looked like restrooms on one side. She left the tracks, sliding down a gravel incline. Ducking under welcoming shade trees, she crossed the blacktop parking area and slipped inside the door marked Women, locking it behind her.

It was a small, square room with a single toilet and a deodorizer so strong it burned her eyes. At the sink, she splashed cold water on her hot face then cupped her hands for a drink.

She turned off the water, kicked off her sandals, and shed her baggy jeans. With the cement cool under her bare feet, she wiggled into the black skirt, then slipped her feet back into her sandals. Dressed, she removed her cap, pulled her hair back, applied makeup, then checked her reflection in the cloudy mirror.

Not great, but okay. She shoved her disguise in the trash container. Then, with her bag slung over her shoulder, she left the restroom to follow the sidewalk to the front of the gas station.

“I’m looking for someone to give me a ride to the St. Louis airport,” she announced as soon as she stepped inside.

The space was occupied by three teenage boys, and from the way they were looking at her, she guessed they would have helped her for nothing, but she made an offer. “I’ll pay a hundred dollars, plus expenses.”

All three clamored for the job.

They ended up drawing straws plucked from a broom.

“I could close up for a few hours,” the one who’d drawn the shortest straw said forlornly, not wanting to be left out.

“You lost,” one of the other kids said. He shook his keys and grabbed his can of pop and cigarettes in preparation for departure. The two winners scrambled to open doors, shooting each other dark looks they thought Cleo wouldn’t catch.

The driver’s name was Chad, his friend’s name was Jed. Chad ended up having an El Camino, which meant no backseat. Sitting in the middle, air conditioning blasting between her legs, cigarette smoke choking her, Cleo asked, “How far to the airport?”

Daniel banged on the door of room number six. No answer.

He gave up and walked to the lobby to find Willie.

Daniel was a cop, so Willie naturally disliked him.

“Cleo Tyler. The woman in number six,” Daniel said. “Know where she is?”

“Nope.”

“Have you seen her recently?”

“Nope.”

“Gimme a key to her room.”

“Can’t do that, man.”

“Gimme a key.”

“You got a search warrant?”

“Just give me the fucking key.”

“Okay, man, but I don’t like doing anything illegal.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Daniel strode back to Cleo’s room, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. He was hit by the stench of greasy French fries and body odor. What a dive. Near the door, under the window, the air conditioner clanked away as if taking its last breath.

No Cleo.

Her suitcase was on the floor where it had been the day before. On the foot of the bed was a long gray tank top kind of thing he figured she slept in. In the bathroom, Daniel turned on the light. On the floor, under the sink, he spotted a pile of red hair. He picked it up and moved it between his fingers.

Back in the lobby, he drilled Willie.

“You say you haven’t seen anything of Tyler today?”

“Yep.”

“That’s funny, because I could have sworn I saw both of you downtown at the bank.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.”

“After you came back, did you see her leave the motel?”

Willie pointed over his shoulder. “She headed that way. Up the tracks. Dressed like she didn’t want anybody to know it was her.”

Shanghai City was the next town. “What was she wearing?”

“Flannel shirt. Jeans. A cap.”

“You wouldn’t be shitting me, would you?”

“No, man. Why would I do that?”

Daniel was leaving when Willie shouted after him, “Hey, if she’s in some kind of trouble, I had nothing to do with it. You hear me, man?”

Daniel’s cop car wasn’t flashy like Jo’s. In fact, you wouldn’t even know it was a cop car unless you were close enough to read the lettering on the driver’s door. But with an eight-cylinder 350 under the hood, it could really cover ground.

There was only one business in Shanghai City and that was a gas station. Inside the station, Daniel found a bored kid behind the counter.

“Have you seen a woman around here in the last hour or two?” Daniel asked.

The kid shrugged. “I dunno.”

“She’s about-” Daniel thought a moment and held up one hand. “About this tall.” He almost said long red hair, but then he remembered the hair he’d found in the motel bathroom. “Red hair.”

“Don’t think so.”

Daniel sighed and reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out his billfold, and flashed his badge. That got the kid’s attention. Under normal conditions, Daniel never took out his badge. It was just something he didn’t like to do. Too dramatic.

“There was a lady here,” the kid said. “She wanted a lift to the airport in St. Louis. My friends gave her a ride.”

“What are they driving?”

The kid gave him a description of the vehicle.

“When’d they leave?

“I don’t know.” The kid thought. “Half hour ago maybe?”

Daniel moved toward the door. The kid came around the counter, following him. “My friends didn’t do nothing,” he said, talking fast, staying a few steps behind Daniel. “They just gave her a ride. What’d she do? Escape from jail?”

Daniel thought about her room at The Palms. “Something like that.”

“Wow.”

The kid was impressed. And it was hard to impress kids nowadays.

Daniel caught up with them about an hour outside of St. Louis.

There weren’t many El Caminos on the road anymore, so when he spotted the ugly maroon truck/car combination, he figured it had to be them.

He ran a license plate check and discovered the owner was a seventeen-year-old male named Chad Donald. He had a couple of speeding tickets, nothing more. Daniel dropped back and almost lost them when, without warning, they suddenly cut across a lane of traffic and exited.

Daniel managed to exit, keeping his distance as he tailed them into a service center. As he watched, they pulled up to an island for gas. Still keeping his distance, Daniel coasted into the truck and trailer area, parked, and waited.

One of the kids jumped out and began pumping gas. The other two occupants went inside.

Daniel slipped from the car and walked in the direction of the convenience store. Inside, he gave the place a quick once-over, his gaze tracking down the food aisle, past glass refrigerators, to a hallway with a plastic restrooms sign. He ducked under the sign. Without hesitation, he opened the door to the women’s restroom and went inside.