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at college in Austin tonight before he went to bed.
    John Crowley had a well-earned reputation for being tough in business, but fatherhood had mellowed him. “Sounds like she’s in trouble.” The truth was, Moross seemed in need of help.
    “No.” Lindsay’s tone was sharp. She pulled off her socks and straightened up, wriggling her toes against the cool floor. “She’s not in trouble. She just got herself out of trouble.”
    John pulled his socks off and followed suit. It felt good.
    “I thought you said you saw her this morning at CVS drug store, and something seemed wrong. If it was nine o’clock that would be just about the time she walked away. The guy seems upset.”
    Lindsay jutted her chin into the air and blew a breath out through her upturned nose, a move John had come to know over the years. It showed his wife cared little for the facts surrounding a situation because her mind was made up.
    “I know he’s upset,” Lindsay said, meeting her husband’s gaze. “But there’s something about that man I just don’t trust.”
    “Yeah,” John said, reaching down to tuck a piece of Lindsay’s hair behind her ear. It was something he did out of habit as he reflected what he had learned during a career spent negotiating deals with Wall Street investment bankers, union lawyers, and even the president of the United States.
    “But if that girl walked out, it’s not because she’s crazy. It’s because she needed to get away from that man.”
    That man. Lindsay had made up her mind, no two ways about it.
    “It would be good to stay in touch with that girl,” Lindsay said thoughtfully. “But that man is someone I would not trust even one little bit.”
    John Crowley generally made up his mind after careful consideration of the evidence and all the facts, while his wife went with her gut in an instant. Ninety-nine times out of one hundred they reached the same conclusion. His wife had the sharp instincts of a jackal, a trait that had served team Crowley well over the years. “You know,” Crowley said now, “I don’t trust him, either.”

CHAPTER 4
    C aroline must have dozed sometime during the night. She had wanted to stay awake, so as to savor every minute of her life here in the eighth row from the front of the Greyhound bus, where it didn’t matter that she had no identity, no home, no family, no friends. Just her and Pippin, safe inside their cocoon.
    As the morning wore on, the bus slowed, weaving its way through traffic. By eleven A.M. Chicago’s famous skyline came into view.
    The first leg of Caroline’s journey was coming to an end.
    The bus rumbled through downtown to the terminal. She followed the crowd inside, her eyes aching with lack of sleep, jumpy with nerves. She expected someone to grab her at any moment and force her to go back home. She waited in line at Amtrak and purchased a one-way ticket to Denver on the California Zephyr, departing that afternoon. She stowed the ticket carefully inside her tote before heading out into the searing midday sun. She had three hours to kill.
    A stiff breeze blew off Lake Michigan, whipping bits of trash around in tiny eddies. She released Pippin andthe little dog stood, unsteady after so many hours in the tote. He shook himself top to bottom, panting heavily.
    “C’mon, fella.” Caroline gave the leash a gentle tug and was relieved to see him prance along beside her, his usual self, none the worse for wear. She made her way quickly along the unfamiliar streets, checking signs to get her bearings. She had charted it out beforehand on MapQuest.
    Within a short while, she reached her destination. A pawnshop. She was becoming schooled in the business of hocking jewelry, trading it for the cash she had smuggled out in her Keds. Just yesterday morning. It already seemed eons ago. She was already growing wise in the ways of her new life. Pawnshops, she now knew, were conveniently located near bus stations and train depots.
    She got buzzed in and