Next to the car seat was a dark green duffel bag. I got on my knees, keeping out of sight of the windows, and unzipped the bag. Inside I found everything I’d requested—a change of clothes, all black. Fresh pair of underwear, two additional tops. Scissors, makeup, black cap and gloves.

Hundred and fifty in cash, small bills. Probably the best she could scrounge up on short notice.

I wondered if that was a lot of money for Juliana these days. I only knew the girl she’d been, not the wife and mother she’d become.

I started by taking out all items in black and laying them on the backseat. It took a bit of wiggling, but I finally managed to shed the orange jumpsuit and redress in the black jeans and a black turtleneck. I twisted my hair up onto the top of my head and covered it with the dark baseball cap.

Then I turned around to study myself in the rearview mirror.

Juliana was staring at me. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

Newborn, I thought immediately. She had that look about her—the frazzled new mom, still not sleeping at night and frayed around the edges. Knowing the first year would be difficult, surprised to discover it was even harder than that. She glanced away, eyes on the road.

I sat down on the rear bench seat.

“Thank you,” I said at last.

She never answered.

We drove in silence for another forty minutes. The snow had finally started, lightly at first, then falling heavily enough that Juliana had to reduce her speed.

At my request, she turned the radio to the news. No word of any officers involved in a situation, so apparently D. D. Warren and her team had survived my little surprise, and had chosen to keep a lid on things.

Made sense. No cop wanted to admit she’d lost a prisoner, especially if she believed she would recapture the inmate shortly. Last Detective Warren knew, I was alone and on foot, meaning D.D. probably had believed she’d round me up within an hour.

Not sorry to disappoint her, but relieved everyone was okay. I’d done my best to rig the twin pressure-sensitive devices to blow back, away from the recovery team and into the relative shelter of the fallen tree. But given that it was a rookie effort, I had no way of knowing how successful I’d be.

I’d sat behind Officer Fiske, both hoping and dreading what would happen next.

SUV slowed again. Juliana had her blinker on, was preparing to exit the highway for Route 9. She’d driven under the speed limit the entire way, eyes straight ahead, two hands on the wheel. The conscientious getaway driver.

Now our adventure was almost over, and I could see her lower lip trembling. She was scared.