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new car and Nathan Forest is dead. Nothing more.”
    She covered her eyes with one hand. The gash on her forehead was bruised around the edges, but it didn’t look infected. She probably should have had stitches to prevent a scar, but it was too late for that now. The cuts on her neck glowed pink against the pale skin. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
    “Everything hurts.” She uncovered her eyes and looked around the room. “Is there coffee?”
    A two-cup coffeemaker and supplies sat on a tray by the television. “I’ll make some,” he said. “Why don’t you take a shower?”
    “Good idea.” She moved past him to the bathroom and a few seconds later he heard the water running. He started the coffee, then slipped out to the car.
    The Jeep was several years old, the red paint faded and the leather seats worn. But it was equipped with a new GPS and good tires. And in the backseat he found two plastic shopping bags filled with toiletries, snacks and a change of clothes for each of them. Somebody at headquarters deserved a commendation for that.
    He carried the bags inside and tapped on the bathroom door. “Stacy, I’ve got a bag here with some clothes and other things for you,” he said.
    No answer. Maybe she couldn’t hear him for the shower.
    He tried the knob. The door wasn’t locked. He eased the door open, keeping his eyes averted from the steaming shower, and set the bag just inside the door, then went to pour himself a cup of coffee and wait.
    When she emerged from the bathroom half an hour later, damp hair curling around her face and smelling of floral soap, he was seated on the end of the bed, the television on and turned to the local news. “I’ve never been so grateful for clean underwear and toothpaste in my life,” she said. “Where did they come from?”
    “The agent who delivered the new car left them.”
    “Well, he—or she—deserves a raise.” She smoothed a hand over the pink-and-white hoodie and matching yoga pants. “I’m betting it’s a woman with good taste. She even thought to include a little face powder and lipstick. I feel almost human again.”
    She definitely looked like she was feeling better. The dark circles beneath her eyes had faded some, and she’d combed her hair to hide most of the gash on her forehead. In the casual clothing, with the lighter makeup, she looked younger and more vulnerable than she had when he’d first questioned her the day before.
    He stood and rubbed his hand across the bristles on his chin. “I think I’ll shower and shave,” he said. “There are some snacks in that other bag there. Help yourself to breakfast.”
    She glanced at the television. “Any news?”
    “Nothing of interest to us.”
    After a shower and shave, he dressed in the Nordic sweater and jeans he found in the bag and returned to the bedroom. The casual clothing made him and Stacy look more like tourists, or even locals. Stacy sat cross-legged on the end of the bed, eating peanut-butter crackers and staring at the television. “They just did a promo about a shootout at a Durango hotel last night,” she said. “I think that’s us.”
    He sat beside her and waited through commercials for a used-car dealer, life insurance and dish detergent. Then a somber-faced reporter came on to report on an exclusive break in the story of a shooting at a local hotel. “Though the incident was at first reported to be a random mugging, we’ve since learned information that ties this killing to organized crime. The woman assaulted, who has since disappeared, was Stacy Giardino, daughter-in-law of fugitive Sam Giardino, head of one of the country’s deadliest organized crime families, who was gunned down at a vacation home near Telluride yesterday morning. Ms. Giardino was accompanied by a man who identified himself as a U.S. Marshal. The two left the hotel shortly after the shooting before local police could question them. If you see either Ms. Giardino or her companion, please