“You’re not wearing a wedding ring, and you’re driving a stolen car. It all fits.” He wasn’t exactly sure why he was giving her such a hard time. Habit, he guessed, born out of his professional curiosity about people who tried to hide the truth. Or maybe he was stalling because he didn’t want to get back into the Winnebago.

“I never said the car was stolen. You’re the one who decided that.”

“So why don’t you want to call the police?”

She gazed at him as if she were the Queen of Egypt and he was a stone-hauling slave building her a pyramid. Something about her attitude got his goat.

“You could just go back to him,” he said.

“You don’t give up, do you?”

He noted the combination of intelligence and aloofness in her expression. This lady had developed the knack for keeping people at a distance. Too bad she hadn’t used it on her boyfriend.

Who did she look like? The answer was right there, but he couldn’t quite grab hold of it. He wondered how old she was. Late twenties, early thirties? Everything about her manner and bearing screamed class, but her situation was too precarious for a member of the upper crust.

“I can’t go back, “ she finally said.

“Why not?”

She paused for only a moment. “Because he beat me.”

Was it his imagination, or did he detect a certain amount of relish in her words? What was that all about? “Do you have any money?”

“A little.”

“How little?”

She still had her pride, and he admired her gutsiness. “Thank you for your help, but this really isn’t your concern.”

She turned to walk away, but his curiosity wasn’t satisfied. Acting on the instincts that had made his reputation, he snagged the strap of her ugly plastic purse and pulled her to a stop.

“Hey!”

Ignoring her outrage, he lifted it from her shoulder and pulled out her wallet. As he looked inside, he saw no credit cards, no driver’s license, only a twenty-dollar bill and some change. “You’re not going far on this.”

“You have no right!” She snatched her wallet and purse back and started to walk away.

He had more than enough problems of his own, and he should have just let her go, but his instincts were on full alert. “So what are you going to do now?” he called after her.

She didn’t answer him.

A crazy idea hit him. He mulled it over for all of five seconds before making up his mind. “Do you want to hitch a ride?”

She stopped walking and turned. “With you?”

“Me and the kids from hell.” He moved toward her. “We’re heading west to Grandma’s house. Iowa. We can drop you off if you’re going that way.”

She regarded him incredulously. “You’re inviting me along?”