Sloane didn’t bother to stop and get something to eat. She always carried a few protein bars in her purse, and she knew one of those would tide her over until she got to Laughlin and could have something a bit more substantial. Once upon a time, she might have worried about eating dinner at nine o’clock at night, but she’d been living on an irregular schedule for long enough now that she knew it wouldn’t make any difference.
And the drive itself was no big deal. She spent so much time behind the wheel that three hours was barely more than a blip. Besides, she’d gone back and forth over this stretch of I-40 enough times that it was very familiar to her; she didn’t even have to think about jogging north on I-93 in Kingman and then to the westbound 68, but guided the Honda by instinct, mind
