Zee’s tone was calm. “Like I said, you’ve got what you need. A new set of ID papers. You can go anyplace you want, be Donna Woods. But you’re done threatening Brice Campbell. And you’re done driving past his house and harassing his wife.”

“I never…”

“Shut up,” Zee said. “You’re done. End of story.”

He took a stick of gum and popped it in his mouth, dropping the foil wrapper to the floor.

“And what if that’s not what I want?”

“Tough shit. Do you want your husband to find out about your Thursday night action at the Dreamland motel? The same joint where you were screwing his brains out last December? Because I can make that happen. And then what, after he finds out you’ve been screwing around on him?”

“Allen would kill me,” Colleen said, lifting her chin defiantly. “Brice knows that. He wouldn’t let you…”

“That’s why I’m here tonight,” Zee said. “Looks to me like you’ve got two choices. Stay here, let that asshole keep beating on you until he kills or cripples you, or leave. Hit the road and don’t come back. Which is it?”

Colleen stared blankly down at the driver’s license. “This doesn’t seem real,” she said, in a very small voice. “I know we talked about it, my just walking away. But I’d be leaving everything behind. My job, my friends, my family…”

“Your homicidal husband,” Zee added. “Spare me the pity party, okay? You chose the guy. How long were you together before he started hitting you?”

Her hair fell across her face. “He twisted my wrist so hard I got a spiral fraction. The third night of our honeymoon.”

“And you stayed,” Zee said. “So now, what’s your plan?”

Colleen sank down onto the edge of the bed. She closed her eyes as she reviewed the loose plan that had begun forming in her brain.

“Allen and his dad go fishing in the Keys every year. They leave next Thursday afternoon. If I time it right, I can go to work, pick up my last paycheck, get the money out of our savings account and leave that day, after work.”

“Leave, how?”

“Just … drive away.”

“No good,” Zee said. “As soon as he gets back and finds you gone he’ll call the cops and report you missing. They’ll put out an APB. It won’t be hard to spot that flashy orange car of yours.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Hop a dog,” Zee replied. “Go Greyhound and leave the driving to us.”

Her upper lip curled in distaste. “You can’t be serious.”