I looked balefully at the gas-guzzler. However, girls on the run from multiple enemies couldn’t be picky. “Thank you. How do I pay you?”

“We’ll handle that through Pepper. He says you’re good for it.”

“Thanks. I’ve got to move a few things.”

The men politely averted their eyes as I went to my truck and unloaded the gardening gear. I carefully reached for Wil’s body, not knowing what to expect after all this time.

I hefted it as gently as I could and the soft floral smell of the cloth rose to my nose. Wil’s body felt as pliant as it had when I’d first hidden it. I carried him to the bed of the new truck and placed the gardening tools over him.

I got in the truck and the metal garage door rolled up. Morning had come. I drove into the light and toward Oswald’s ranch, with Pepper following.

Traffic was sparse this early, and after we got past the suburban sprawl, the landscape gave way to beautiful green fields and then vineyards stretching out to the hills.

Golden poppies, banks of blue lupine, and brilliant yellow wild mustard bloomed. I wished I could have shown Wil this. His death was my fault. All the deaths were my fault.

We soon reached the town where Oswald had his office. Wine-country tourism stopped at the base of the mountain, but we drove on. And along the drive, I kept remembering my first time coming here; perhaps it was exhaustion, but I had the surreal sense of moving backward in time.

A logging truck slowed traffic and it was agonizing minutes before the road straightened enough for me to fly past it. Pepper rode in my draft. I would see Oswald soon. I’d tell him everything and he’d take me in his arms and say that he was sorry for ever breaking up with me and that he still loved me.

Pepper and I made it over the mountain, through a stretch of pines, manzanitas, and red earth, then out to open country. I turned down the road that led to Oswald’s ranch. I stopped at the gate and waved good-bye to Pepper. He waved back and roared away.

I was here. I was home.

I punched in the code on the post and the big electronic gate slowly swung open. I drove down the lane shaded by English walnuts, verdant with new foliage. The two-story sandstone house was in front of me now.

Oswald’s four dogs bounded down the road, barking their welcome, making me miss Daisy, my first dog. I was too anxious to drive anymore and I stopped the truck by the small vineyard of cabernet grapes. I hopped out and the dogs leapt around me.