He was sketching furiously now, and he looked up and saw she’d awaken and was watching him.
He needed to know. “Where did you go from New York? I know you told me you bought a plane ticket, but I know you didn’t. You also didn’t buy a bus ticket or a train ticket. Where did you go?”
If his question surprised her, she didn’t reveal it in her expression. “Does it matter?”
“It does.” He replied matter-of-factly. “I looked all over for you. I’d like to know how you wound up in, of all places, Phoenix Arizona.”
She gave an impatient sigh. “I was in this diner and this woman trucker named Bertha. I told her I was leaving my overbearing husband and she offered me a ride to Tucson. I went with her.” She watched as he bent his head and continued his drawing. “You can’t be comfortable.” She wat
