“This is perfect.” She stroked her slender wrinkled hand over the shiny surface. Her rings looked too big for her fingers. “Is it fast?”
“Fast?” The guy transferred his gum from his right cheek to his left. “Lady, this baby has a 5.0 liter V-8 engine and it’ll go from zero to sixty in under four seconds. That about fast enough for you?”
Kathleen tilted her head. “It sounds sufficient for our needs.”
The guy grinned and shook his head. “You’re really something.” He obviously thought Kathleen should be renting a wheelchair, not a high-performance car.
Martha felt out of her depth. Age was supposed to make you careful, wasn’t it? Mrs. Hartley next door never went anywhere without her walking stick. She didn’t answer the front door without checking the spy hole first.
It was clear now why Liza had looked anxious and asked so many questions.
But this was Kathleen’s trip. Surely she had a right to live life the way she wanted to? Although she didn’t have all the facts, of course. Lacking full disclosure from Martha on the quality of her driving, Kathleen had probably underestimated the risk.
“This model has redesigned cylinder heads and new crankshaft—” Cade droned on and Martha’s mind glazed over. What exactly was a quad tip dual exhaust and why did she need to know about it?
Cade opened the door and gestured. “You’ve got your sport setting, your track setting—”
Martha looked inside, relieved to see automatic transmission. P for Park and D for Drive. That was all she needed to remember. She had no intention of reversing. This journey was going to be forward all the way. In fact that could be a metaphor for her life. No going backward.
Cade straightened. “You want to take her for a ride?”
And give him visible evidence of her lack of skill? He’d probably refuse to rent it to them.
“Not right now. Let’s finish up the paperwork. We need fully comprehensive insurance.” She caught his eye. “Not that we’re going to need it, but probably best to be safe. In case someone reckless drives into us.” Like a tree. Or a post. That had been known to happen.
“Sure. That’s it? Then we’re done here.” Cade shrugged. “Any questions?”
“I have a question.” Kathleen removed her sunglasses and the wicked gleam in her eyes made Martha almost as nervous as the prospect of driving the car.
“Kathleen—”
“What’s the speed limit?”
Oh for...
“Why? Are you on the run, lady?” Cade laughed and scratched at his skin under the T-shirt. “You robbed a bank? Police chasing you?”
“No, although I did recently have dealings with the police when they came to remove a body from my kitchen.”
Cade stopped laughing. “Body?”
Body? It occurred to Martha that she really didn’t know that much about Kathleen at all. She’d talked a lot about her work, and her travels, but hadn’t revealed anything personal. She knew about Liza only because she’d met her.
She could be traveling across America with an eighty-year-old serial killer. “Kathleen? You didn’t—er—mention—”
“It slipped my mind, dear. Or perhaps subconsciously I’ve been trying to forget it. The mind has a way of blocking out trauma, doesn’t it?”
Hopefully that was true, because right now it seemed that this trip might be unforgettable for all the wrong reasons. “Tell us about the body, Kathleen.”
“It wasn’t a random body. It belonged to an intruder who entered my home in the middle of the night.”
“Oh that’s terrible.” Martha put her hand on Kathleen’s arm. “How very frightening.”
“He didn’t seem frightened. In fact, he was rather bold.”
“I meant frightening for you.”
“I know. I was teasing you.” Kathleen patted her hand. “It was the most excitement I’d had in a long time, although I admit I was lucky he was alone and inebriated. A word of advice—” she leaned closer to Cade “—if you intend to break into a house, stay sober and always take an accomplice. It’s much harder to fight off two people.”
Cade took a step back, eyes wide and staring. “Right. So—you killed him?”
“No. He is very much alive.” Kathleen frowned. “Probably because I used the eight-inch pan, and not the twelve-inch. I only use the twelve-inch if I’m frying eggs and mushrooms with my bacon.”
“Good to know.” Cade’s gaze skittered to Martha and she saw pity there. “Speed limits and general information on driving here in the US is right here in our book—” He thrust it at her. “In the trunk you’ve got your flashlight, a blanket, jumper cables, flares and a first aid kit. We advise you to always carry water, particularly when you reach the desert, and keep your phone charged although you might not have a signal of course. Everything you need is right there. And if you get into trouble—” the look on his face suggested he thought that to be highly likely “—you can call the number on the back.”
“Thank you.” Kathleen took the book and beamed. “It’s all most exciting.”
Martha wasn’t finding it exciting. Flares? Why would they need flares?
Cade cleared his throat. “So—any more questions or are we done here?”
I have a question, Martha thought.
Why, oh why, did I take this job?
8
LIZA
Liza glanced at the picture of her mother raising a glass with the spectacular Chicago skyline shimmering behind her. Martha had added a quick caption: Living the dream.
It had been a thoughtful gesture on Martha’s part to send the photo, but it was making Liza take a long, hard look at her life.
Envy stabbed her in the chest and she sat down at the kitchen counter she’d been cleaning moments before.
Her world seemed gray and mundane by comparison. Her mother was surrounded by flickering candles and cocktails. Liza was confronting an empty cereal bowl.
Today was her wedding anniversary. Not that she had high expectations, but a small celebration would have been nice. It wasn’t as if they didn’t have an excuse.
Her mother didn’t need an excuse. She celebrated every moment.
How had Liza ever thought that was irresponsible? It was a good way to live life.
What had she done the night before while her mother had been drinking, laughing and watching the sun go down over Lake Michigan? She’d been catching up on ironing and doing some last-minute planning for France.