The owner lived in a midcentury house, and the one-bedroom rental was over a detached garage. She had invited Molly to use the driveway, so she parked on one side of the garage, near the outside set of stairs that led up to the rental. The door was locked with a lockbox, and the owner had given her the code, so she was able to let herself in.

After a quick walk-through, she discovered the other woman hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said the apartment was utilitarian. There were basic furnishings—a couch, a chair, a coffee table, and a forty-inch LED TV in the living room, along with a dinette set in the kitchen, adequate bedroom furniture with a double bed, and minimal wall decor.

But it was clean, and the large windows looked out at plenty of trees, giving the space an airy, peaceful feeling. And it was another place that felt fresh and new, a place where Austin had never been.

Most importantly, it was a place where now, hopefully, nobody could find her.

She hauled her luggage up the stairs, unpacked, and then went grocery shopping. By the end of the afternoon, she felt better than she had in days. She had a couple of bottles of wine, she could cook comfort meals, and she didn’t have to go out unless she wanted to.

Other things nagged to be added to her to-do list. Things like finding a permanent place to settle down. Trying to find the woman from her dreams, or some other teacher, someone she could trust who was not Josiah.

But thinking about the rest of her life was overwhelming. She wasn’t ready to make any more decisions that would have long-term consequences, and she backed away quickly. That wasn’t what she needed to concentrate on this evening.

She still wore the two-piece suit from the meeting with Nina. Stripping out of her clothes, she had a long, luxurious shower, dried her hair, and dressed in jeans, a sweater, and a new leather jacket. It would get chilly in the park as the sun set.

No makeup. She pulled her hair back into a plain ponytail at the nape of her neck and gave herself a long, level look in the mirror. The woman staring back looked strong, no-nonsense, capable. You couldn’t tell her life was in ruins and she was a stranger to herself.

After shoving cash and identification into her jeans pocket, she folded a photocopy of one of the foreign bank statements and shoved that into another pocket, scooped up her keys, and left to pick up dinner.

When six o’clock came, she sat on one of the picnic tables underneath a shelter, feet planted on the bench seat and dinner sitting in two paper bags beside her.