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got an accident on the off ramp from the Palmetto to Miller Drive.”
    The traffic report ended, and then a different newscaster came on to give a report about boating conditions.
    By then they had reached the entrance to the turnpike. Ashley threw her coins into the bucket at the toll booth and moved into traffic, aware that Karen was staring at her.
    â€œWe’re going to put it out of our minds and have a good time,” Karen insisted firmly.
    Ashley nodded. She tried to keep silent, then said, “It’s just too bizarre. What was a man doing running across the highway in his underwear?”
    â€œHe must have been doped up,” Jan said from the back.
    â€œThat must be it,” Karen agreed. “Why the hell else would you try to cross at least ten lanes of traffic—dressed to the teeth or half-naked?”
    â€œAshley, when you go back to the academy Monday morning, I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone who knows something about it,” Jan said.
    â€œYeah, you’re right.”
    â€œAnd until then, there’s nothing you can do,” Karen said.
    â€œYes, there is,” Ashley said.
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œStop at the first rest station, buy a big cappuccino, a horrible, greasy breakfast sandwich and stop shaking,” Ashley said.
    â€œAll right, I’m up for that,” Jan said. “I’ll stick with regular coffee and these cookies, though.”
    They reached the service plaza less than thirty miles later, still subdued, but trying to rekindle the light mood that had been with them as they’d started out. While Ashley and Jan stood in line for coffee and food, Karen gathered brochures for Orlando and its multitude of tourist attractions. When they were finally seated, Jan pounced on the brochure for Arabian Knights. “I’ve never been there. I loved Medieval Times, though, and this place has horses, too.”
    â€œAnd men ,” Karen said. “But I thought we were going to go dancing? You know, to Pleasure Island or someplace like that.”
    â€œOne night dancing, one night watching gorgeous men on horseback,” Jan said.
    Ashley was barely listening. She had taken out a pencil and was sketching on her napkin.
    A hand fell over hers, stopping the movement of her pencil mid-slide. She looked up and met Karen’s. “That’s chilling—too close to what we just saw,” Karen said.
    Jan drew the napkin from her and shuddered. “What are we going to do, Ashley? You’ve got to let it drop.” She gazed down at the sketch again. “Thank God I was busy looking at pants that would look good on people with fat thighs,” she said, trying to draw a smile. “I’m haunted just by the picture.”
    â€œYou should have stayed in art school,” Karen said. “A drawing on a napkin…and it’s just like the real thing. Please, Ashley…”
    Ashley crumpled up the napkin. “Sorry,” she murmured guiltily. Her friends were right. There was nothing she could do about what had happened.
    And she was destined to see much worse during her career as a cop.
    â€œYou haven’t really given up on art, have you?” Jan asked her. “I mean, you’re good. Really good. I’ve never seen anyone who can sketch people so well.”
    â€œI’ll never give it up,” Ashley said. “I love to draw. It’s just that…”
    â€œShe likes the concept of a paycheck,” Karen told Jan with a sigh.
    â€œYou could have gotten a paycheck as an artist. I know it,” Jan said.
    â€œArt school just cost too much,” Ashley said.
    â€œYou didn’t take that scholarship because you were too afraid Nick would want to help you and he couldn’t afford it,” Karen mused sagely.
    â€œNick would never stop me from pursuing any dream,” Ashley said a little defensively. And it was true. She knew Nick had been