Their two days at the resort had flown by in a blur. She never made it to the spa. They spent most of that time in bed. She did her best to make Roy happy, even though she was increasingly sticky and sore. At some point, she realized that he was no longer using a condom, but it seemed too late to say anything. After he fed her a few of the pot-laced chocolates in the minibar, the hazy glow made it easier.

Every time he led her through the lobby to the restaurant or the pool, she was sure the elegant receptionist knew all the things he had done to her. She would grow to like it, she told herself. Maybe not all of it, but enough. She put her hand on his arm and lengthened her stride to keep up.

The one time she’d seen Frank, he was in a booth in the steak house with two other men, heads bent together in quiet talk. Frank hadn’t looked at her, but the other men followed her with their eyes. When she and Roy checked out of the resort, Frank hadn’t come with them.

Now Roy turned off the engine and got out of the truck. “Come on, honey.”

She’d asked him a half-dozen times to call her Helene, not honey. Each time, he’d said something like, “Sure thing, honey.” It got under her skin like a permanent mosquito bite. As she scooted out after him, she told herself she’d keep working on it. Everyone could change.

The road was gravel. Everything else was brown and dry. She couldn’t see the highway or a single living thing except for Roy. The only sound was the humming from the trailer, which seemed much louder than it had in the resort parking lot. The trailer’s sign still read golden state solutions. “Where are we?”

“Central Nevada. We’ll be in Salt Lake in four hours.” He took her elbow and guided her toward the back of the trailer. His jacket was off and he still wore the pistol on his hip. His keys jangled as he unfastened two heavy round security padlocks on the rear. The door pulled down to become a ramp. The humming grew louder.

She was expecting tools of some kind, maybe construction supplies. Instead, she saw a packed jumble of goods, everything from old furniture wrapped in quilts to a pair of sleek racing bicycles to narrow wooden packing crates strapped to the sidewall. Behind the clutter, a curvy convertible gleamed in the dark. The humming came from behind the car.

“What’s that sound?”

“I’ll show you.” Roy raised the ramp, then led her around to the driver’s side of the trailer and unlocked a door she hadn’t noticed before.

She peered inside and saw an enormous white chest freezer, longer than Helene was tall, set against the back wall. It was plugged into a small gas generator that hummed under a square metal duct that sucked the exhaust out through the ceiling. The rest of the space carried floor-to-ceiling plywood shelves filled with U-Haul boxes and plastic storage bins.