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that. But I didn’t want to forget it, not completely; it was a nice excuse, a nice option to have if I wanted to dump her along the way for any reason. I still felt uneasy about her sudden appearance, and nothing she had said had made me more comfortable with her. She stretched and opened her eyes.
    “God—what time is it?” Her voice cracked.
    I looked at my watch. “Almost seven. Good nap?”
    “Yeah, great.” She rubbed her eyes. “Where’re we at?”
    “Somewhere past some town that begins with a C. I can’t pronounce it.”
    “Chillicothe. I thought you’d be farther along than that.”
    “Yeah, we passed it quite a while back. I haven’t been pushing it.”
    “You still taking me to Cincinnati?”
    “I said I would. Cincinnati’s a big town; you ought to be able to find work and get lost there—if that’s what you want. But that’s the end of it for me, okay? You can get yourself over the state line.”
    “God, I really don’t believe this,” she said a little sarcastically. “Can you really look at me and think I’m under eighteen?”
    “Look, do you want to go to Cincinnati or not? I said I’d take you there.”
    “Fine, fine.” She held up her hands, suggesting that we drop it “In fact, Cincinnati’s just great.”
    “Good. Right now, how about breakfast?”
    I found a truck stop soon, and we went inside and took a booth in a corner. Amy excused herself and went to the ladies’ room, which was located down a dark corridor on the other side of the room. The waitress came and I ordered coffee for both of us. Amy returned in less than a minute—hardly long enough to have made the trip worthwhile—and slipped into her side of the booth.
    “That was quick,” I said.
    “Just wanted to splash some water in my face.”
    “Have anything you want; I’m buying.”
    “I’ve got some money.”
    “Save it; you’ll probably need it before you get to California, or wherever it is you’re going.”
    She looked at me with strange eyes. The waitress came for our orders, and Amy had a full stack of pancakes and an order of bacon and eggs. Either was enough for me; I took the hotcakes. While we were eating she surveyed me with her eyes, much as I had watched her on the road between Athens and Chillicothe. I did not know if she was being intentionally obvious, but I pretended not to notice. Breakfast finished, she settled back with her coffee. “Any idea how much farther you’re going?”
    I shook my head no.
    “I was just wondering. With my money as low as it is, well, the closer I can get to California the better off I’ll be.”
    I shrugged. “Nothing personal. In fact, I’ve enjoyed having you along. It’s just that right now I don’t need any grief, and I might be letting myself in for a lot of it.”
    “You aren’t. I can promise you that.”
    “Besides,” I said, “what’s the big deal? Rides are easy to get, especially for a girl.”
    “That’s just it. Girls never know what kind of creep might stop for them.”
    “How do you know I’m not that kind of creep?”
    She smiled, and there was just the hint of a flirt behind her eyes. “I just know it.” She shrugged. “So look at it this way—you might be keeping me out of the hands of some mad rapist, right?”
    I thought about it. “No, I can’t do it,” I said finally.
    Again she lapsed into a sullen silence. I thought the matter was closed, but just as I was finishing my coffee she took out a small billfold and produced a plastic-covered driver’s license. She pushed it across the table toward me.
    “I thought you didn’t have one.”
    “There it is. It’s a horrible picture of me, and that’s why I don’t show it around.”
    In fact, it was a very good picture. The name on the license was Melinda Lewis, and the date of birth was January 6, 1950. The license had been issued just last month in Denver, Colorado.
    “Melinda?”
    “That’s my real name. Please call me Amy.”
    “And you live