Sofia hadn’t said a word, hadn’t invited her to sit down, but that’s what this Cindy was doing – sliding herself into the booth, juggling a plate piled high with fried chicken and mashed potatoes, and two huge paper cups filled with Coke. When she had herself comfortably settled into the booth, she pushed one of the drinks across and smiled. The smile reached into Cindy’s clear blue eyes, drawing to Sofia’s mind memories of her grandmother.

‘Here, hon,’ she offered, ‘the Coke isn’t half bad here. And take some of these taters off of my hands. They’re probably instant, but beggars can’t be choosers. I loaded myself down with a dozen-piece chicken meal so if you want a drumstick, I’d be willing to spare one. But the gravy – oh, that is first-rate sausage gravy right there, straight out of the pan. You can’t go wrong with that.’

Sofia checked across the room. The two men who’d been creeping her out had lost interest now.

‘Don’t you worry about them, hon,’ said the woman. ‘They won’t bother you while I’m here. I once gave those boys an ass whoopin’ with my favourite tyre iron. Taught them some manners. I won’t abide poor manners in a man.’

She picked up a chicken breast and bit into it with evident relish, rolling her blue eyes as she chewed. Sofia watched the woman, who was shorter than her by a good few inches, work her way through the plate of food. It was hard to tell her age. There was a strange, childlike quality to her, especially in the giddy way she ate. Through that veneer, however, there lurked something else. Sofia wasn’t sure what it was, but at the end of a long and terrible day she found she wanted to trust this woman very much.

After swallowing her mouthful of food, Cindy spoke again, not looking at Sofia, but still concentrating on her plate.

‘You know, I’m not going to be here for long.’

She finally looked up. The smile was still there.

Sofia didn’t know what to say. For a split second just now, she thought she’d been tracked down by the police. Instead she seemed to have attracted the attention of a crazy person. Kindly, but possibly crazy. Who went up to complete strangers at a truck stop, sat themselves down, and started insisting they share their food, all the while telling them they were in trouble? No one she had encountered. Everyone wanted something, that was the rule Sofia Pieraro had learned.

Still, she could turn this to her advantage. She had come to the diner looking for someone like this Cindy French. Not so much a crazy woman, but somebody she might be able to trust to move her a little bit further down the road.