Matt tapped on his phone, searching travel sites for a place to stay. After several searches, he hadn’t found a single vacancy, not even in the cheap motels. Maybe he could try a walk-in, since the travel websites might not have up-to-date vacancies. Or there might be some dumps too low-end for Expedia. He texted Agent Keller to see if the FBI could arrange accommodations, though he wasn’t holding his breath, since the consular officer hadn’t even bothered to show up at the airport. Worst case, he’d stay out all night. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He started to pull up another site, but a young woman interrupted him.

“Hi,” she said, staring at him with doe eyes as she slipped onto the stool across from him. She had glossy dark hair and high cheekbones and wore a bikini with jean shorts.

“Hi,” he replied, curious. He glanced over toward the group of obnoxious American women, since he assumed she was part of their group, but they were gone.

“I’m so sorry, but would you mind if I sat with you for a few minutes?” Before Matt could respond, she said, “Behind me, those two guys at the bar. I don’t want them to know I’m here alone.”

Matt shot a quick glance toward the bar. He saw two hard-looking men with crude tattoos hunched over their beers.

“I promise, I’m not a stalker.” She had full lips, and her face lit up when she smiled.

“It’s no problem. They were bothering you?”

She nodded, twisted a strand of her hair. “Once they go, I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

He didn’t say so, but he actually liked the company. It had been a long, lonely day.

“I’m Hank, by the way,” she said.

“Hank,” he repeated.

“My dad wanted a boy,” she explained with the practice of someone with an unusual name. She had an accent. It wasn’t Southern, more Midwestern, a rural lilt. It reminded Matt of his friend Kala’s twang when they’d first met, before she started hiding it.

Hank laughed hard at nothing, then reached over and placed her hand on Matt’s. “Sorry,” she said. “Just in case they’re watching.”

The waitress brought over his beer and the tacos. Matt asked if Hank wanted anything, but she ordered just a glass of water.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to drink the water?” Matt said.

“I’m an Oklahoma girl; I can handle it.”

“I knew it, a Midwesterner. I’m one too. I used to live in Nebraska.”

“You’re a Cornhusker? I think I’d better take my chances with the creeps,” she said, smiling. “Where in Nebraska?”

“I moved a long time ago, and you wouldn’t have heard of it anyway.”

“Where do you live now?”