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he’d answered the phone. Besides, he would never believe she could get this far away without him knowing it.
    But she’d been stupid to call him. For all she knew, when he picked up the phone, the caller ID had spelled it out for him: Maggie is calling from this particular bus stop. Come to Pennsylvania (or wherever in the world she was) and get her.
    A new thought struck terror in her chest. What if Kevin saw her location on caller ID and called the local police? They could be here within minutes. He wouldn’t be above telling them that she’d stolen his car, and in that case they would have the authority to take her in—or worse, hold her until Kevin came for her.
    The passengers were now waiting in queue to get back on the bus. The engine revved and diesel puffed from the exhaust. Panic seized her. If she got on that bus, she’d be a sitting duck. It wouldn’t take much for the cops to discover where the bus had originated. They’d arrest her and haul her back to New York.
    But if she didn’t get back on the bus, she might never make it past this little spot in the road. She hadn’t put nearly enough miles between her and Kevin Bryson yet. And besides, she’d paid fare all the way to Columbus. She couldn’t afford to buy another bus ticket.
    The bus horn blared, and the behemoth inched forward. Kevin’s cursing echoed in her head. She felt like the rope in a vicious tug of war.Finally the bus won and she broke into a run.
    But even as she ran toward it, the bus crawled away. She broke into a sprint, her breath coming in sharp, painful gasps. “Stop! Wait! Stop!”
    Her plea was carried away on an acrid belch of diesel fuel, and she watched in horror as the bus rolled out of the parking lot. The engine puffed and groaned, shifting gears and gathering speed. When the Greyhound finally eased down the ramp onto the interstate, Maggie slumped to the ground, burying her face in her hands.
    What would she do? Her money was dwindling fast and, like an idiot, she’d convinced Kevin that she had run away. If she’d stayed away from the stupid telephone, he might think she was dead.
    Now he probably assumed she was still in the Civic. If he had the police hunting for her, that’s the vehicle they’d be searching for. The thought caused her to relax a little. She smiled to think how surprised he’d be when the police tracked down the car. Of course, the carjacker had probably abandoned the Civic long ago.
    None of that mattered now. The bus wasn’t an option anymore.
    Leftover heat from the afternoon sun seeped up through the asphalt. Maggie wiped the perspiration from her forehead with the tail of her blouse and trudged back toward the convenience store.

If there was an ounce of comfort in losing them both on the same day, it was that they’d gone together.

Chapter Six

    T revor stood at the curb and looked west. The sun rode low in the sky. It would be dark in half an hour. He stepped into the street but turned back to see Bart Johannsen waving from the doorway of the inn, as Trevor knew he would be. The old man’s yellow white beard nearly reached the bib of his engineer overalls.
    Trevor smiled to himself. Wren would be nagging her husband to trim his shaggy mane soon.
    Bart dropped his hands to clasp cigar-thick fingers over a belly that had seen too many of Wren’s homemade cream pies. “See ya tomorrow, Trev.”
    Trevor waved back but winced at the nickname. He’d never gone by Trev. At least not after his son was born. He turned away and hurried across the alley to his pickup. Bart couldn’t know how much it hurt to hear Trev’s name.
    It was only one of a million reminders every single day. The empty swing set in his backyard. The tricycle that sat abandoned in a corner of the garage. The day-care kids traipsing behind Miss Valdez on a field trip up Main Street—kids Trev would have started kindergarten with this fall.
    Trev . It was his given name. Trev Alex. Trevor hadn’t been crazy about the