Hank’s cousin was a man named Davis. He wasn’t surprised to see Jess.

“Yeah, Hank woke me up about five in the morning,” he said, coming out from behind the service desk and leading her into the shop’s only work bay. “Said you needed a vehicle, and it was imperative that I supply you.”

“I’d appreciate it if you could,” Jess replied. “Something clean and reliable, whatever you’ve got. I just need to get out of this county.”

Davis reached the back of the work bay, a door. He pushed it open, gestured for her to pass through, and she found herself in a little annexed patch of gravel, a half a dozen cars and trucks arrayed before her in various states of repair.

“Got a Plymouth with a couple hundred thousand miles on her, but she still runs pretty good,” Davis said. “How much are you looking to spend?”

“I have five hundred in cash and a Chevy truck that isn’t ready to die yet.” Jess gave the Plymouth a once-over. It wore those two hundred thousand miles plain to see, dented and dappled with mismatched paint and primer spots. It was probably about the ugliest car Jess had ever seen, and she’d served three tours in the fucking Kunar Province.

“If that’s what we’re talking, I can do you a sight better.” Davis motioned her across the gravel patch to a jet-black Chevy Blazer. “Just redid the brakes, and the engine runs fine,” he said. “Hardly any rust underneath. I was going to try and sell it on eBay, but what the hell.”

Jess looked the Blazer over. It was a small SUV, two doors, plenty of room in the back for Lucy. It looked good, looked capable. But it wasn’t going to happen.

“I think I’m better off with the Plymouth,” she said, and she walked back over to the car, hoping it had somehow turned pretty in the time she’d looked away.

It hadn’t.

“That Blazer will get you anywhere you need to go,” Davis said, following her over. “I guarantee it.”

“I know it will.” Jess took Burke’s money from her back pocket. Counted out five hundred-dollar bills and laid them on the hood of the Plymouth, laid the keys to her truck right beside them. “But that truck of mine is kind of a wanted vehicle right now, and if the law finds it before you do, they aren’t giving it back.”

Davis looked down at the money, the keys. “Where’s the truck now?”

“Hidden behind a dumpster,” she said. “One of those old fish plants on Cannery Road.”

Davis stroked his chin. He seemed to be thinking. Finally he came to a conclusion. Reached down, picked up the keys. Slid the money back across to Jess. “You’ll take the Blazer,” he said.

“What?” Jess frowned. “Why? What are you talking about?”