Finally the police left, and the hotel staff moved us into a room that had a working door.

"Your photos are gone," I said. "We can take more photos, but now Guidry's men have them. That might give him the clue he needs."

"They don't have them," she said. "My phone is locked. There is no way they can access anything. And we don't have to see Russ again. All my pictures were uploaded to the cloud. As soon as I buy a new phone, I'll download them. This didn't set us back at all. The only thing it told us is that Guidry is still on our trail."

We were wide awake now, so I went online to see if I could find the tree in the picture. After two hours of searching with no success, weariness once again set in. Sabrina had collapsed an hour earlier. It was no good. We were going to have to find an expert. Then the thought popped in: what if the tree was just a figment of the artist's imagination? If so, we were definitely screwed.

*****

We were eating a late breakfast the next morning at The Cracker Barrel. Sabrina had been strangely silent.

I was trying to give her some space, but finally blurted out, "You okay?"

She focused in and smiled. "I am. I was just thinking that you're ahead of me in school."

"Huh?"

"You're learning how to fight faster than I'm learning how to trust. All those people in our room—all the hotel guests, the hotel staff, and the police—gave me the creeps. I wanted to go hide in the bathroom. I was actually more comfortable with the crooks. I guess I can relate to them better."

I gave her a look.

"No, seriously. They were crooks, but they were at least clear about their intentions. All the others … yeah, a few might have been genuinely concerned, but most were there for the thrill of it, or out of nosiness, or if there was anything worth putting on YouTube. In that case, who do you believe? Which one of them is being honest? And I'm supposed to trust people?"

She had a point.

"Sometimes you just have to assume they have the best intentions."

"Why? If I assume that and they don't? I just put myself in a bad situation."

"But most people do have good intentions."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I do."

"Then I have a long way to go with this trust thing."

I couldn't disagree with her.

"But what did you mean about me learning to fight. I didn't fight anyone."

"Sure you did. You were staring down the barrel of a gun—two guns—and you cracked a joke."

"It was either that or pee my pants."

"You weren't wearing pants."

"Pee the bed, then."

"But that's my point. That's the first rule of fighting, remaining calm."

"But I didn't feel calm."

"But you acted calm. A big part of the battle. You think I wasn't scared? I was naked under the covers with two men with guns standing over me. I had other fears besides getting killed. Who cares that you didn't actually fight them. They had guns. You would've lost. This way, you won the battle without having to physically fight them. Most battles are won without ever having to throw a punch. No, trust me, that was a major leap in your training."