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the city,
we stopped for a quick bite of dinner and to discuss our game
plan.
    “I’m really not in any hurry to get back to L.A.,” I
said. “I’m sure you want to get back, though.”
    “Eventually.”
    I smiled and shoved a fry in my mouth. “So where to
next, then?” I asked, fiddling with a map on my phone.
“Chicago?”
    Elizabeth’s eyes lit up. “Really? That would be
awesome. Can we go see Sue?”
    Once again, Elizabeth had managed to surprise me.
Either that, or I had misunderstood her completely. “At the Field
Museum?” I asked, just to be sure.
    “Yes! You knew what I meant!”
    We were in the middle of plotting a route to Chicago
when my phone rang. It was a Los Angeles area number but not one I
recognized.
    “Jenny Marshall,” I said.
    “Ms. Marshall, my name is Paul Reynolds. I got your
name from Pat Sommers. She said you could help me.”
    “Just a moment, Mr. Reynolds,” I said. Then I held
the phone against my chest and told Elizabeth, “I’ll be right
back.”
    I took the cell phone outside and asked Mr. Reynolds
what I could help him with.
    “Pat says you’re an investigator. A good one. And I
have a…situation,” he said. “I’m not entirely comfortable going
into detail over the phone. Is there a time we could meet?”
    “I’m not in town at the moment,” I told him. “I won’t
be back for a few days. And I don’t have an office yet, but we can
find somewhere to meet when I get back into town.”
    We talked for another minute, and I promised Mr.
Reynolds that I would call him as soon as I got back to L.A. We
hung up, and I headed back into the restaurant to break the news to
Elizabeth that there wouldn’t be any more side trips.
    Elizabeth let out a small, disappointed sigh and then
gave me a smile. “We’ll just have to come back and visit Sue
later.”
    “Done deal,” I promised.

Chapter Eleven
     
    While we finished up our meal, Elizabeth did some
quick calculations and found the shortest route home.
    “No matter what, we’re looking at three days on the
road,” she said. “Even trading off driving, we still need to sleep.
Right?”
    “Hell yeah. I don’t do well without a bed. I get
cranky.”
    “And we definitely don’t need that.”
    I threw a fry at my smartass friend. She looked
appalled.
    “So we staying here tonight or pushing on?” I
asked.
    “I’m in favor of pushing on. Little Rock isn’t too
far away —a couple of hours. We can stop there and still have time
for a decent night’s sleep.”
    “Little Rock it is, then,” I said, gathering our
trash onto the tray. I was kind of tired after our day of playing
tourist, but I didn’t think a couple of hours on the road would
hurt me any, and getting a little closer to L.A. seemed like a
solid plan.
    By the time we reached Little Rock and found a hotel,
I was wishing we had stayed in Memphis. “Kind of tired” had become
“dog-ass tired” somewhere on I-40, and I was desperate for a bed. I
could tell Elizabeth felt pretty much the same.
    Even exhausted as we were, we both had a hard time
going to sleep. Then we were rudely awakened in the middle of the
night by loud-ass neighbors. Then again in the early morning by the
shouts of exuberant children. We ended up checking out and getting
on the road earlier than we had planned because sleep just wasn’t
an option any longer.
    Elizabeth offered to drive, and since she seemed more
coherent than I felt, I let her. We scored some breakfast burritos
and coffee and headed out of Little Rock. Once breakfast was gone,
I stared out the window, thinking. As some point my thinking turned
to dozing, a fact that I didn’t realize until the car stopped
moving, waking me up.
    I looked around to find us sitting on the shoulder.
Elizabeth had her phone in her hand and tears in her eyes.
    “What?” I asked, sitting up, fully alert. “What’s
wrong?”
    “We’re going the wrong way.” Elizabeth dropped her
phone in the console cupholder and leaned