Jules got in the car beside Louise and she allowed herself to slump against his shoulder. She could feel his cold through her coat. His teeth chattered so hard she had to clench her jaw to keep from shaking beside him. She could feel the line of blood that ran from her nose up to her forehead pulling tight, drying. She felt a cold rag on her face and knew Jules was dabbing the blood from her nose. His hands were shaking. An anxious cold was settling in her chest. He reached across her and started the engine.

“What the hell are you doing?” Stoner yelled.

“I’m freezing my ass,” Jules yelled back. Louise heard Jules mutter. There was trouble brewing between the two men.

She heard an approaching car, and opened her eyes to see the haze-ringed headlights of a truck. This was her chance. She punched Jules with a sidelong swing and reached for the door handle.

“Grab her, dammit,” she heard Harvey’s urgent voice. She felt the crack of Jules’s fist to her jaw, and then he pressed her face into the shoulder of his coat with such force she felt the smothering blood bubbles in her throat, her nostrils. She tried to push him away, but he held her tight, then tighter. She felt the scratch of his coat against her face and then she felt the sudden, dizzy heat of sleep.

She thought she heard another man’s voice, a voice she didn’t recognize.

“No problem here,” Harvey was saying. “Looks like they made up.”

She heard the crunch of footsteps beside the car door, and Jules Bart clamped his hand to the back of her head and held her very still.

“Lovers’ quarrel,” Harvey said.

Louise heard the car as it was passing them. Jules released his hold. She felt the driver’s door open, the seat dip as Harvey got in. Her tongue was swelling and she wanted to spit. “Hold her down this time,” Harvey said. She felt Jules lean toward her. She lay still, snorting blood.

“She’s out now,” Jules said.

She had fooled them twice. She began to believe she had another chance.

Harvey’s foot weighed the pedal. They passed into the dense lifting heat of the river. Louise could hear the lick of tires on wet ice. She braced herself, knowing the steep bank of land that rose up from the left and then the right side of the car, the high whining curves, the places where the road shot off to darkness. She struggled to wake, but everything seemed to be whirling around her. She lifted her head and opened her eyes. She saw Harvey’s grim face. She could feel the car fishtail the road but Harvey drove on faster. It seemed to Louise he was trying to chase the fog. She tried to concentrate.