“An hour and a half. Maybe a little longer.” Luke gestured at the clock in the dash. “Should be pulling into Nueva Vida somewhere around eleven.”

“That’s early,” Kitty said. “We’re making good time.”

“I’d be there yesterday, if I could.”

Kitty was in charge of the music. She shuffled through Luke’s CDs, then decided that the radio was the way to go, although she changed stations every time a traffic report or commercial came on. Lisa used to do the same thing, Luke remembered with a wistful smile, even though they’d had satellite radio. She just liked pushing those buttons. “It’s like hunting for musical treasure,” she’d say. Luke didn’t mind Kitty hopping between stations, the same way he’d never minded Lisa doing it. There were always bigger things to get into a fight about.

They lost all radio signal on a stretch of dead highway south of the Mojave Preserve. Kitty punched the buttons for a minute and found nothing. “To hell with it,” she said, and shut the radio off. She propped her feet on the dash, reclined her seat, and closed her eyes.

The silence was welcome, although Luke tried not to occupy it with thoughts of what lay ahead. Sometimes it was better to not think—to simply trust the gears of instinct. He focused on his surroundings, zipping alongside semis and bikers and buses. He looked at the mountains, and at the dry tangles of creosote bush and desert senna. Bugs slapped the windshield. Kitty’s foot twitched.

He didn’t think she was sleeping, not with the hot air rumbling through her open window, but she snapped awake a moment later, crying out, one hand clutched to her chest.

“You okay?” Luke asked.

“Jesus Christ. She took off her sunglasses and wiped her eyes. “Oh Jesus.”

Whatever she’d dreamed, it was obviously tough to shake. She brought her seat upright, drew her knees to her chest, and took several deep breaths.

“Better pull over, Luke. Think I’m going to puke.”

She didn’t need to tell him twice. He checked his mirrors, then booted the brake and swerved onto the shoulder—oversteering a touch and edging off road. The car rattled and bounced, tires gripping, pulling up rags of grit. For a beat, Luke thought the back end was going to kick around and they would spin out, but he held the line, coming to a noisy, dusty, but relatively undramatic stop.

Kitty unclipped her belt, threw open the door, and spilled outside. Luke watched the back of her green tee fade amid the dust. She broke through waist-high scrub, stumbled down a shallow embankment, and disappeared behind a rock.