No Trace of You

My fingers were numb by the time Preston finally returned to the service station. Half an hour earlier, he’d claimed a stomach ache, so I’d dashed to the pharmacy. When I returned, the car was gone. Thirteen calls, zero answers.

When he pulled up, his new intern Mona occupied my seat, wearing his wool coat and snuggled against my custom neck pillow. Preston exited, his first instinct to silence me. "Shh. Keep it down, she just fell asleep."

Mona stirred, offering an innocent smile. "Sorry, Claire. I get terrible motion sickness. Preston insisted I sit here. He said you wouldn't mind."