Annabelle gripped the wheel so hard her forearms quivered. “That would please me very much,” she said between clenched teeth.

“You see, civility is really not that difficult.” She gave him such a ferocious look that he hurried on. “Okay, we go back to that town where they serve heart attacks instead of meals. You go to the bus station, do your usual bushelful of lies routine, maybe show some leg, buy a ticket and get the driver to drop you off at the exact same spot he did Oliver. He might have even overheard where they were headed. I’ll follow in the van, and when you get there I’ll pick you up and we go from there. At the very least it’ll put us in the general vicinity of where Oliver was. How does that sound?”

Actually it sounded pretty good, Annabelle had to admit. She put the van in gear and pulled onto the road, setting a course back to the town.

Caleb’s cell phone buzzed. It was Reuben. He spoke for a few minutes and then clicked off.

“Well?” said Annabelle.

“He’s about two hours away, he said. I filled him in on the plan and he’ll meet us there.”

“Good.”

“So you like my idea?”

“I’m doing it, so I must think it has some merit,” she snapped.

“Annabelle, can I make a personal comment?”

She took a deep breath. “Go ahead.”

“You really need to do something about your anger issues.”

She stared over at him with an incredulous look. “I’ve been in this van so long I can’t even remember when I haven’t been in this van. I’m tired, I’m filthy, I’m worried and I’m frustrated. Okay? I don’t have anger issues.”

Caleb smiled knowingly. “That was a good first step to getting your feelings out. Only then can you achieve real progress.”

“Can I share another feeling with you?” she said pleasantly.

“Of course.”

“Either go back to being the mildly amusing testosterone Caleb, or else your ass can walk back to D.C.”

Predictably, they drove on in silence.

Chapter 50

CHAPTER 50

KNOX CRUISED INTO TAZBURG and passed the local police station. He parked the truck and watched uniformed officers come and go, some on foot, others climbing into old mud-splattered Ford LTDs and speeding off to somewhere. The downtown area consisted of brick and clapboard buildings, a few leaning into each other, with old telephone lines running to them, while cars were parked slantwise in front of them. He’d passed through a long tunnel cut straight through a section of mountain on his way here. It felt like a border crossing.

What country am I in?