The cabin was dark, which didn’t surprise him. Then he noticed that the trash container had been moved from its former position alongside the building to a place by the back porch. Which hardly would enhance the view. And besides, the thing smelled like shit.

Maybe the trash container had been pushed over by a stray dog or an armadillo in search of leftover food, Joe speculated, and Jamie had simply turned it back over and not bothered to drag it back to its original position.

He was still pondering the trash container when he noticed that the only vehicles in the entire enclave were two identical black vans, each parked by a different cabin.

As much as he wanted to go dashing up to the cabin and tap on the door, Joe decided to hunker down and watch things for a while. For fifteen minutes, he would do that, he decided, and looked down at the glowing dial of his watch.

He watched. Everything was peaceful. The only movement was the waves on the beach.

At the end of fifteen minutes, he decided to stay put for another fifteen. Just to be sure.

And then he saw something out of the corner of his right eye. Just a glint of reflected moonlight from up there on higher ground.

Or had he imagined it?

Joe waited, trying not to blink as he watched to see if he saw whatever it was again. His eyes began to water and finally blinked of their own accord.

Then he saw it again. Or thought that he had.

He backed out of his hiding place and crawled through the clumps of grass angling toward the road. When he was certain that he would be out of the line of vision of whomever might be up there watching the cabin, he dashed across the road. On the other side, the vegetation began to change. Within a few yards, kudzu vines were everywhere, impeding his progress as he climbed to a place that would put him directly behind the area from which the mysterious reflection had come. A reflection from the lens of binoculars, perhaps. Or night-vision goggles.

When Joe neared the top of the incline, he dropped to his belly and scooted over and through the vines, trying not to think about the possibility of snakes and scorpions. When he calculated that he was getting close, he stopped and simply listened for a time.

At first he thought it was just the rustling of leaves he was hearing. But there was no breeze. It was voices. Very soft voices.

When he lifted his head, he saw them. Two men dressed in dark clothes, surveying the quiet scene below, waiting for something to happen.

Joe considered the possibilities. They could already have apprehended Jamie and the baby and were waiting for him to return. If that were the case, Jamie could already be dead and the baby already delivered to the Hartmanns.

But since that particular scenario was unacceptable, he tried to imagine one in which Jamie would have gotten away.

She had seen them coming and went racing out the back door.

But they would have had the back door covered. He tried again.

She had gone for a walk on the beach.

He imagined her leaving by the back door, locking it behind her, and strolling up the beach for a couple of miles then heading back. She saw the men before they saw her. And she turned tail and ran. She would have her escape bag with her. That was what they had decided. Anytime she left the cabin.

He liked that version better. Much better.

Okay, if that was what had happened, Joe reasoned, those two men and probably others who were watching from different vantage points would have no way of knowing that he wasn’t with Jamie and the baby. With their possessions still in the cabin, the men were probably waiting for the three of them to return.

Joe made his way back down the slope through the maze of vines, which were like living things from some horror movie. His feet became tangled in them, slowing his progress.

Where would Jamie have gone, he asked himself. With all that talking and planning they had done, deciding that he should go to Houston for the RV and where they should go when he returned, they had neglected to include a scenario like this one. He didn’t have a clue as to where she would go.

Or did he?

Once he had made his way back to the beach, he took off his shoes and ran full out on the wet sand. As fast as he had ever run in his life.

Chapter Thirty-seven

JAMIE STOOD AT the perimeter of the tarmac and looked longingly at Flossie’s Truck Stop and Diner. It was a frame building that hadn’t seen a paintbrush in decades, but business was brisk. At least a dozen vehicles were parked in front, and several others were being fueled by their owners.

She could almost smell the coffee. But she hesitated to go inside. She was filthy and had cuts and scratches all over her arms and legs. She could imagine people turning to stare. What if there was a highway patrolman seated at the lunch counter? He might ask if she had been in an accident or take an interest in Billy’s welfare. He might want to know where she was going and how.

She had Billy over her shoulder with a blanket over his head to protect him from sunburn and was trying to jiggle him to sleep while she tried to decide if she dared go inside the diner.

An elderly rig with the words “Phillips Hauling” painted on the side rolled past her and came to a stop by a diesel pump. She watched while an aging couple emerged from the cab. It took her a few seconds to realize that an opportunity might have just presented itself.

The man headed inside the station, while the woman lifted the nozzle from the pump. Jamie started toward the truck, mentally composing her story.

The woman watched her approach with a wary look on her round face. She was a formidable-looking woman with broad shoulders, wide hips, and her graying hair in a no-nonsense ponytail.

“I suppose you want a ride?” the woman said, her tone challenging.

Jamie nodded. “The baby’s father pushed us out of the car last night down by Freeport,” she said. “I’ve been walking ever since, putting as many miles as I can between him and me, except for a couple of hours early this morning when I just had to get off my feet.”

“You heading home?” the woman asked.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been afraid to accept a ride in the middle of the night from just anyone who might pull over so I kept off the road. It’s been tough going.”

“How old is the baby?” the woman asked as she inserted the nozzle into the truck’s gas tank.

“Almost two months. My boyfriend decided that he wasn’t the father. But he is. I doubt if I’ll ever see him again, though. I’ve got family up in Washington County. If you’re heading that way, I’d be ever so grateful if you would give us a ride. I’m pretty much walked out.”

The woman cocked her head to one side as she regarded Jamie. Then, with a nod she said, “I reckon. We’ll be pulling out in about ten minutes.”

Jamie thanked the woman then went inside. Her first stop was the restroom, where she cleaned herself up as best she could and put on the clean T-shirt from her backpack. In the diner, she bought an apple-cinnamon muffin and a cup of coffee to go.

The couple was waiting by their truck.

“My name is Beverly,” Jamie said.

The woman nodded and got behind the wheel. Her husband crawled into the bed in the rear of the cab. Jamie climbed aboard.

“You ought to have that baby in a car seat,” the woman said.

“It’s in my boyfriend’s car along with all our clothes,” Jamie said.

Billy had drifted off to sleep after just a few minutes. Jamie ate the muffin and sipped the coffee. She was grateful that the woman didn’t want to chat. Lying was so exhausting.

She wondered where Joe was at this moment. Would she and Joe ever lead a normal life?

Would she ever see him again?