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mentioned her cell phone, but stopped herself. So the man hadn’t seen her call Rich at the Warner Bros. store. She didn’t want to alert him. Rich would definitely call her. Maybe there was a way to trace the cell phone to where she was. Maybe the phone had some kind of a Didi-homing device. The police could call the number and locate Didi. She kept quiet for a moment while sadness swept through her unsettled stomach.
    â€œI just want to say,” she tried again, “if it’s money you want, I’m sure we can come up with something—”
    He laughed softly again.
    â€œOr,” Didi tried, encouraged by his smiling. “You could let me out.” She looked at him with hope. “There’s no harm done—”
    â€œThere is already.”
    â€œNo, not really,” she said quickly, wanting to wipe her mouth. “I think you’ve made a mistake. You must think I’m rich, but I’m not really—”
    â€œI don’t think that, ma’am,” he said.
    She pressed on, “But if you continue, then you know, this will be a … a…” She couldn’t get the awful word out.
    â€œKidnapping?”
    â€œYes,” she said. “All you have to do is let me out right here. Please,” she added. “Stop and think, think. Don’t you know that kidnapping is a capital crime? In Texas, I think you get life for it.”
    â€œThey’d have to catch me first,” the man said.
    â€œBut they always catch the—” Didi wanted to say the bad guy.
    â€œNot always,” he said. “Let them try to find us.”
    Didi stared at him, wanting to argue. Not catch the bad guy? That wasn’t possible. They always caught the bad guy.
    Didn’t they?
    â€œWhat you’re doing,” she said, “It’s—”
    â€œYes, I know,” he interrupted, smiling coolly. “I’d better take care not to get caught then, hadn’t I?”
    Didi stopped looking at his upturned nose and faced the road. Her mind was frenzied. She tried to make her body outwardly still, but her legs from the knees down were uncontrollable.
    Didi saw he was headed toward US 75.
    As if reading her mind, the man said, “Hang on, baby. There is no looking back. Nice try, though. But we’re in it for the long haul. For the whole haul,” he said in his nasal drawl.
    Didi put her arms around herself and stared ahead. Fear was invading her lungs from the malodorous car every time she inhaled. They made a right onto the expressway service road, and in a few seconds were on Central Expressway at seventy miles an hour, heading in the direction of downtown Dallas.
    â€œPlease,” she whispered.
    â€œI’m not even going to speed,” the man said. “I’m going to take it nice and easy.”
    *   *   *
    He was a man of his word, though Didi didn’t think he’d meant to go quite this slowly. They were stuck in traffic. What had been a three-lane highway was now a single lane. The diamond orange signs warned of no quick resolutions to the traffic jam.
    SLOW
    MEN
    WORKING
    Didi’s cool driver turned red in the face. His hands became jittery. He was past one exit, some indeterminate distance away from the next, and trapped with cars all around him. Pulling the cars in the left lane to the right, the orange cones were lined up alongside his station wagon. Up ahead, the yellow arrow blinked insistently. Move over there, the arrow seemed to say. Now.
    The man turned on the radio and began humming to country music. Didi was about to try to engage him in some superficial conversation when suddenly her senses returned to life.
    She thought there might be a way out of his car.
    They were in the right lane. Next to her side of the car a low concrete divider ran as far as her eyes could take her. The car was stopped. Zero miles per hour. He was drumming his fingers on the wheel and singing