She gazes into the middle distance just beyond the windshield. I follow her line of sight, but there’s nothing to be seen out there. Just acres and acres of dark forest.
“The officer said you were armed,” she murmurs.
I spread my hands wide. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
She sighs, then starts to pick uncomfortably at the few bands of the corset that are still wound tight around her chest.
“Go change,” I tell her. “There’s a suitcase in the trunk.”
She almost laughs before she stifles it. Throwing open the door, she lurches out unsteadily and limps around the car to the trunk. I keep an eye on her through the rearview mirror, just like she did to me, as she sorts through the suitcase and pulls out a pair of jeans and a black shirt. The only difference is that, when she
