The road began to rise as we entered the canyons.

The salt smell of the coast faded, replaced by the dry scent of sagebrush and hot asphalt.

“Natalie, we can’t outrun them forever,” Eleanor said.

Her voice trembled slightly, but she kept her hands folded tightly in her lap.

“I don’t plan to outrun them,” I said. “I plan to outwork them.”

I steered the SUV onto a sharp exit ramp marked for a twenty-four-hour truck stop.

The tires squealed on the concrete.

The black sedan did not follow us down the ramp, instead continuing straight along the highway.

“Did we lose them?” Eleanor asked, turning around.

“No,” I said. “They are waiting at the next junction.”

I pulled into the bright, diesel-scented lot of the truck stop.

Rows of eighteen-wheelers stood idling in the dark, their yellow clearance lights blinking through the dust.

I parked in a space near the bright floodlights of the main building.

The glare of the sodium lamps made the interior of our cabin feel exposed.

I reached into the back seat and grabbed the leather briefcase General Avery had given me.