Both sets of eyes turned toward me. A semitruck rumbled by the station, the noise and rush of wind it generated so great I wouldn’t have been heard even if I had spoken. But the distraction gave me a moment to gather my thoughts. If I continued on the path I was on, if I gave the overly concerned gas station attendant reason to call the police, then I’d be getting nowhere.

Nowhere at all.

I’d have to explain why I was standing there, talking to Dawn.

And truth be told, she’d have to explain what she wanted from me.

I hadn’t given her anything yet. How could I prove she’d been blackmailing me? And if I wanted to find Blake, I needed to get going.

“Okay,” I said when the truck was past. “I’m sorry. I lost my cool. And I’m sorry. Okay? Is that okay with you?” I asked the attendant.

He took his time answering. He looked at Dawn and then he looked at me.

Finally he said, “Well, I guess so. If it’s okay with her.”

And then Dawn took her time answering as well. But she finally nodded. “It’s okay,” she said.

The attendant nodded his head a few times and started a slow walk back to the cashier area of the station. When he was out of earshot, I said, “I’m leaving. I have things to do.”

“The money,” she said. “Tomorrow.”

“You’ll get it. Or you won’t. I may not be able to give it to you soon. But I have to go.”

I opened the door and climbed into my car. Dawn had parked her car nose to nose with mine, so in order to get away, I’d have to back up. Before I could, she came to the window. I felt I had no choice but to power it down.

“What?” I asked.

“I showed you mercy today,” she said. “Twenty-four hours. Have that money for me tomorrow morning.”

“I can’t—”

“See you tomorrow,” she said.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

I headed for Blake’s house, still shaken by my encounter with Dawn, hoping I’d find either him or Sam at home. I hoped by the time I arrived the police would be there, talking to them. Straightening everything out. Moving everything along to a safe and logical conclusion in which Blake was not a murderer.

Even as I thought that, I knew it was foolish. Nothing involving Blake was resolved that easily. Our mistakes were lingering for years, like nuclear fallout, never completely forgotten and always willing to rise up and bite when least expected. Faces in dreams. Relatives seeking justice. A friend trying blackmail.