CHAPTER THREE
Since Mia’s escape from custody, she’d bounced around from place to place in about a 200-mile radius of Dallas, never staying in the same area more than one night. Some places had proved much better than others. The Irving Arms cottages was a perfect, remote hole-in-the-wall for lying low, which was why Mia was staying there, now, for the third time since her escape.
The old couple who ran it didn’t believe in credit cards. Cash only, which was perfect for her. They didn’t even want her to sign a guest book. The “cottages” were actually little tents, spread out among a few acres of grassland, near a small lake. People there liked to stay to themselves, and so the last two times she’d stayed, she’d gotten some sorely-needed shut-eye.
This time, though, she’d found herself s
