“Leave your guns on the floor,” I said. “You can reach them if you need to, but not without me seeing you.”

She fastened her seat belt. “Nicely played. I’m impressed.”

“Well, I’m not. I don’t like games, Evelyn. Maybe you were testing me. Maybe you didn’t think I was competent enough to come after this guy with you. Maybe you wanted to make sure I didn’t go after him. If that’s it, and you’re protecting him or you’re in on this—”

“Then I would have killed you in that alley.”

“Maybe. All I’m saying is that just because I picked you up doesn’t mean I trust you.”

She smiled. “Good girl.”

His car turned off at an exit ramp. I noted which way he turned at the top, then put on my signal.

“So who do you think this is?” she asked.

I told her. She pursed her lips, saying nothing.

“Doesn’t that make sense?”

“It would certainly make our lives easier, wouldn’t it?” Before I could reply, she pointed at the signs atop the exit ramp. “Well, either he’s hungry or he’s holing up for a while. There’s nothing else up here.”

We found his car in an Econo Lodge parking lot.

“Pull over behind that transport.”

“Shouldn’t I park in another lot?”

Evelyn shook her head. “You’re not parking, just stopping and getting out. I saw a mall at the last exit. I’m going back for supplies while you watch which room he takes and keep an eye on it. I doubt he’ll go any farther than one of these restaurants before I get back.”

“So we’re going to interrogate him, I assume.”

“I prefer ‘talk,’ but yes, that’s the general plan.”

“What are you picking up?”

“Basic supplies,” she said. “Gloves, duct tape, rope…” She met my gaze. “Is that a problem?”

“Better grab garbage bags, too.”

Evelyn knocked on the motel room door. She hadn’t altered her disguise from earlier—blue-rinse hair, pince-nez, polyester slacks, a flower-dotted cardigan and a purse big enough to defy airplane carry-on regulations.

When no one answered, she rapped again and called out in a querulous voice.

“Harold? Harold? I can’t find my key.”

The door cracked open, the chain jangling, then snapping taut with a click. Standing by the hinges, I could see nothing of the person inside, meaning he couldn’t see me, either.

“No Harold here, lady.”

“What?” Evelyn leaned forward, blinking nearsightedly. “Who are you? Where’s my Harold?”

“You’ve got the wrong room.”

The man started to close the door, but Evelyn’s foot darted into the gap, leaving him no choice but to keep it open or crush her. Even cold-blooded killers have their limits.

“Look, lady—”

“Stop whispering, young man. I can’t hear you. Where’s my Harold? Open this door right now.”

“You’ve got the wrong—”