Now, in the parking lot, I considered my choices. I could let the air out of the sedan tires, but not only would that take time, I might be creating trouble for a stranger. My second choice was to open the passenger door, which was probably unlocked, get in and wait for her. If the owner turned out to be someone else, I could explain that I thought the car had belonged to a friend and exit immediately.

But if the woman was Wendy, who knew where we might end up? She would literally be in the driver’s seat, which sounded as bad as letting John Quayle follow me home four years ago.

In the end I just leaned against the hood, arms folded, and waited.

The door opened. Two other people exited, got into their cars and roared away.

The third was the red-haired fashion plate.

My sister, Wendy Gracey Wainwright.

“Fancy meeting you here,” I said, when she looked up and saw me.

She had either learned to act as the high school Daisy Mae, or she really wasn’t surprised to see me.

“I thought you’d find me eventually,” she said. “How’d you do it?”

“Trade secret.”

“Well, since we’re in the parking lot of a post office, I assume it has something to do with my mail.”

“I’ll tell you what. You answer about a million questions, and then I’ll answer that one.”

She shrugged. “I’m not that interested.”

I pushed away from the hood. “Then do you want to hear about Milton Kearns? Or what he said to me when I saw him last week? Because I’m sure those details will interest you.”

“Why didn’t you just wait until I called?”

I studied her as she spoke. Wendy was still wearing the brimmed cap, which was a pretty shade of violet matching a feathery scarf. I couldn’t tell how short her hair was, although long bangs curled over her eyebrows and wisps brushed her ears. The coppery color turned her pale skin sallow, so she had applied a rosy foundation to offset it. Unfortunately, the foundation highlighted the vertical lines carved deeply from nose to lips. She looked older, almost haggard, even after a world famous cosmetic surgeon had twice worked his miracles.

“I wasn’t sure you’d call again,” I said. “You didn’t seem that anxious to straighten things out and come home.”

Tears filled her eyes. “How can you say that?”

“With no difficulty.”

“You think this is fun? You think I’m doing it as an adventure?”

“I think it’s time we talked. You can take off again, and I can spend more weeks trying to locate you. But if that happens? I’ll go to the police with everything I know, plus a description of the way you look and where I found you. You can keep running, and you can change your hair color and fashion choices, but eventually you’ll probably be caught by somebody less interested in your welfare than I am.”

The tears had dried. “Is somebody else watching from the bushes? Are you going to record me?”