Once he was back behind the wheel of the RV, Joe waited a few minutes for his heart to slow and his nerves to calm. Jamie was physically strong and had the will to do what needed to be done, he told himself. She had escaped before. He would go on the assumption that she had done it again.

He drove with great deliberation, keeping his speed well below the speed limit. He knew that Jamie would stay out of sight as much as possible, which meant that he probably wasn’t going to spot her walking along the side of the road. But he looked anyway, hoping to catch a glimpse of her walking along one of the country roads that paralleled State Highway 36. And he carefully scanned fields and groves of trees. Maybe she had managed to catch a ride with someone. An old farm couple, perhaps. Every elderly vehicle he passed he looked to see if Jamie was inside or riding in the back.

In Brenham, he stopped for coffee. Then he drove slowly along the winding road, looking for Jamie.

He passed Old Baylor Park and paused to get his bearings.

He pulled into the Independence Cemetery and stood on the running board calling her name, but there was no response.

He drove to the back corner of the cemetery, fixed a sandwich and grabbed a bottle of water, then walked up and down the rows just to make sure that Jamie wasn’t there. He sat in front of a monument marking the grave of a man named Abner Martin, who, according to the inscription, was a veteran of the Texas War for Independence. From this vantage point he could see anyone approaching the cemetery.

He ate the sandwich and drank half the water then settled in for a wait. With no sleep the night before, he kept nodding off, and would wake with a jerk then look around frantically to see if Jamie had arrived while he was asleep. To keep himself awake he would walk up and down the rows, ducking out of sight when an occasional vehicle went by, reading the inscriptions on the headstones then returning to Abner’s grave until he started nodding off once again and would force himself to take another walk.

At dusk, while he was taking a walk, he realized that someone on foot was walking toward the cemetery. But in the fading light he could not tell if it was someone out for an evening stroll or a woman carrying a baby.

The person was hunched over and walking with a lagging step. He or she was either elderly or very tired. He watched as the walker stumbled and almost fell. When he started walking toward the road, the person stopped and stared in his direction. And lifted a hand.

It was her. It was Jamie!

Joe took off at a dead run. “Jamie,” he called, waving his arms in the air. “Jamie.”

When he reached her she handed him the baby at the same instant her legs collapsed beneath her. He knelt and with his free arm embraced her, saying her name over and over again. She put her face against his shoulder and wept. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her cracked lips. “My Jamie, my poor darling Jamie,” he said.

“I was so afraid that I’d never see you again,” she sobbed. “Some men came while I was taking a walk. I was afraid that they would be waiting for you when you got back.”

“They were, but I saw them first,” he said. “I got the RV. It’s parked at the rear of the cemetery.”

“I can’t walk another step,” she said.

He left her sitting on the ground leaning against a fence post. Holding Billy tightly in his arms he raced through the cemetery. Billy began to cry. His lusty cries seemed quite out of place in the silent burial ground.

Once he was in the RV, he put the still unhappy baby in the center of the bed and drove back up the dirt track.

Jamie was sitting where he had left her. He helped her to her feet and into the vehicle. Billy was still crying. She lay down beside him, fumbling with her T-shirt. Joe bent over her and kissed her forehead.

“We’re together,” she said in a hoarse voice. “I’ll be all right now.”

Joe reluctantly returned to the driver’s seat. After a half hour or so, he pulled off onto a dirt road and went back to the bed.

Billy was asleep. Jamie looked like a rag doll. “Would you please take off my shoes?” she asked.

Joe did as she asked. Her feet were filthy, her heels and toes worn raw. He got a pan of water and a bar of soap and gently washed her feet. He prepared a simple meal for her, then helped her to a sitting position, propping pillows behind her. Billy was sleeping peacefully next to her.

She sipped tomato soup from a cup and ate several wedges of apple, then fell back against the pillow and closed her eyes. “We can’t keep living like this.”

Joe left her there.

He continued to head north, winding his way toward Bryan, where he caught 190 and headed northeast. It was dark when Jamie came to the front and stood beside the driver’s seat, her hand on his shoulder. “I’ve ruined your life,” she said.

“Well, you’ve certainly changed it,” he said. “Are you feeling better?”

“I’ll be all right as soon as I’m clean,” she said, caressing his neck and hair. “Does the shower work?”

“Yeah. Billy okay?”

“He’s asleep. Where are we headed?”

“We can talk about it after you have a shower.”

“Joe?”

“Yeah?”

“You are my hero. And you are the only man that I’ve ever loved and ever plan to love.”

“And you are the love of my life. We are going to get through this, Jamie. We have to.”

She stood there caressing his neck. He didn’t want her to stop.

“Are you going to drive all night?” she asked.

“No. I didn’t sleep at all last night and am running out of steam. That little dining area turns into a second bed. I thought we could put Billy there. I’d like to have you to myself back in the big bed.”

“That’s what I have in mind, too. I have never been so exhausted in my life, but I need you, Joe. I need endless kisses and to feel you inside of me.”

Joe reached for her hand and kissed it, then watched in the rearview mirror as she opened the narrow bathroom door.

In the town of Cottonwood, he stopped at a convenience store to buy diapers then parked the RV behind a boarded-up service station. He prepared Billy’s bed while Jamie nursed him.

Once the baby was taken care of, they stood clinging to each other. Joe relished the feel of her wonderful body against his and the scent of her. He couldn’t tell her enough times that he loved her. Could not kiss her deeply enough. He had thought they had reached some sort of pinnacle back at the cabin on the beach, but he realized that there were limitless pinnacles spread out in front of them, enough to last a lifetime. A long lifetime. Not one cut short by evil people who stopped at nothing to get their way.

He backed her toward the bed. Toward heaven. He wished that he were more clever with words, that he could say something more profound to express his feelings than simply “I love you” over and over again. But oh, how he did love her. And she loved him back with the same intensity.

Her body was wonderful. And she gave it so completely.

Billy slept until dawn. Jamie brought him back to the bed and nursed him.

Then the talking began. It continued while Joe drove, a coffee cup in his hand. Jamie read him the article she had clipped out of the newspaper. Joe nodded. Mr. Morgan had found the same information online. Amanda Hartmann would be holding a three-day crusade in Dallas.

For hours they tried to come up with a game plan, debating back and forth, sometimes arguing vehemently and having to take a break, during which they would sulk a bit and calm themselves, then begin anew, knowing full well that whatever scheme they decided upon would either save their lives or end them.