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and reappeared in the doorway with an armful of rifles a moment later. She popped her head from the RV’s door and looked left to right to make sure the area was clear. Satisfied it was, she quickly transferred the guns to the back of the hybrid and jumped back in.
    “Back out on the interstate,” Nick said.
    The old man turned the car and did as he was told.
    Nick held the gun barrel on the man as they pulled back onto the interstate, heading west.
    “Give me your phone,” Nick said.
    “What do you need my phone for?”
    Nick pressed the gun against the man’s stomach. “Phone,” he said.
    The man passed it over. Nick lowered his window and tossed it out.
    “Wallet.”
    The man handed it to him. Nick pulled out the cash inside and jammed it into his pocket, a little over a hundred dollars. He looked at the man’s driver’s license. “Your name is Lindsay?”
    “It’s Scottish.”
    “That’s a girl’s name,” Molly said from the back.
    “Well, Lindsay Dunbar,” Nick said, “we appreciate the lift. You’re a real help.” He tossed the man’s wallet out the window.
    “Where… where are we going?” the man asked.
    Nick pointed out the windshield straight ahead. “That way.”
    The man obeyed. The car was silent for almost ten miles.
    Lindsay, driving, cleared his throat and spoke. “You’re the two from the television,” he said.
    “Ding, ding, ding. Well, aren’t you a smart one,” Nick said. “What does he win, Molly?”
    She lunged forward with her revolver and placed it to the side of his head. “Bang! A bullet!” She laughed and sat back again.
    “What do you want?” he asked.
    “I want you to shut up and drive until I tell you to do something else,” Nick said.
    He went quiet.
    “Hon, isn’t this puppy just the cutest?” Molly asked.
    Nick looked at her in the backseat. Her gun rested on her lap—clutched in her hands was the dog, licking her face.
    “What’s his name?” Molly asked.
    “It’s a she, and her name is Matilda,” Lindsay said.
    “Matilda? What kind of name is that for such a cute little thing? I’m going to call you Boots because of your little white feet,” Molly told the dog.
    Nick turned his attention from Molly cooing over the dog back to Lindsay. “Get off on the next exit,” he said.
    “And then what?”
    “I’ll tell you when we get to that point.”
    Two miles up the road, Lindsay followed Nick’s instructions and made a right off the freeway.
    “Make another right,” Nick said.
    Lindsay did and drove down a rural two-lane road. Nothing but cornfields spread out to both sides of the street. Since they’d left the interstate, not a single car had passed. Nick looked back at Molly briefly. She nodded her head.
    “Pull over here,” Nick said.
    “Here?” Lindsay asked.
    Molly smacked him in the back of the head. “He said here , didn’t he? What are you, deaf?” She flicked Lindsay’s ear.
    He slowed and pulled to the side of the street. The gravel shoulder crunched under the car’s right-side tires. “You can have the car,” he said. “Just let me go.”
    “Get out,” Nick said.
    The man did as instructed.
    Nick opened the passenger door and stepped out. “This side of the car. Get over here.” He waved the man to the passenger side.
    Lindsay rounded the front of the vehicle, paused for just a second, and then ran toward the cornfield just beyond the ditch at the shoulder of the road.
    Nick brought his gun sights up on the man just as he juked right and disappeared into the corn. “Son of a bitch!” Nick said.
    The rear passenger-side door of the hybrid opened, and Molly ran past Nick in a flash. “I’ll get him, baby,” she said as she disappeared amongst the cornstalks. Nick glanced back to see the dog leap out of the car’s open rear door and run behind Molly.
    A moment later, Nick heard the sound of two gunshots echo in the distance. He went to the driver’s door and took a seat behind the wheel.

CHAPTER FIVE
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