“You followed Frodo to Kentucky?”

She took the Mammoth Cave Parkway exit, saw thick forest to the right and a gas station to the left. Sadly, no time to stop. She pulled onto the shoulder of the southbound on-ramp.

“Technically, he’s been following me. Meaning, I pass him, keep him in the rearview, watch for turn signals. When I get somewhere I think he’ll stop, I do the highway patrol thing.”

“What’s the highway patrol thing?”

“I exit, then let him go past me.”

She put the truck in gear, drove back onto the freeway. “Then I get right behind him again.”

“Does that work?”

Caitlin saw Frodo’s truck half a mile ahead. “So far. I think he’ll stop in Bowling Green.”

“Why?”

“College town. I bet he’ll make a delivery. Plus, I really need to pee.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“It’s a rent-a-car, and pee’s mostly water?”

If Mary laughed, Caitlin didn’t hear it.

“I’m not gonna rob Fort Knox, Lubbers, but this trip has to be important. The busiest party week of the year, and he drives to Kentucky?”

“Caitie—”

“Hold that thought I assume will be a warning, Mary.”

“Why?”

Frodo’s turn signal blinked for the next exit.

“I get to pee.”

She hung up, watched the Bro-duce truck exit the freeway. She put her own signal on, followed. Two gas stations opposed each other at a stoplight. Frodo turned into the one on the right, parked at a pump. Caitlin crossed to the other, took a spot by the front door. She looked back. Frodo placed the nozzle in the gas tank and walked into the convenience store.

Caitlin ran for the bathroom, lucked out—no line. She opened the door to a single stall, locked the door, grabbed the paper ring, and unleashed the floodgates. Her body went looser than that time she got the two-guy massage at the spa in the Beverly Hills Hotel.

Someone jiggled the door handle. A harsh male voice followed. “Come the fuck on, Wendy.”

The man had the kind of Southern accent that made people hate Southern accents.

Caitlin felt her tension return. “There’s someone in here.”

“Wendy—”

Outside, a female voice answered. “What?”

“Where you been?”

“Looking at the scratchers,” Wendy answered. “Who are you bothering?”

Caitlin reached for toilet paper.

“Never mind. Get me a Mountain Dew.”

“I gotta pee. Lay off, Darryl.”

“What did I tell you?”

The girl’s voice cowered, subservient. “You gonna hit me in the store?”

“What did I say, girl?”

Caitlin flushed, washed her hands. The drama continued.

“You said do what you say, Darryl.”

“Or what?”

“Or I don’t get any Oxy.”

“I gotta crap,” he said. “Steal me a Mountain Dew and some jerky.”

Caitlin opened the door, caught a glimpse of the dickhead going into the men’s room. Maybe forty, white tank top with an eagle and an American flag on the back.