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But she still had four rolls of cash.
An idea flashed through her head.
Moving quickly into the compact bathroom, she opened the cupboard under the sink and immediately broke into a smile. Sitting in front of her was exactly what she’d been hoping for: an unopened packet of six toilet tissue rolls. Hastily pulling it out, she poked her finger through the plastic wrap into each of the cardboard cylinders and dropped in the rolled bills. Letting out a breath of relief, she pushed the package back into the cabinet.
With the cash safely tucked away, she quickly stripped off and stood under the small shower. Washing away two days of grime and shampooing her matted hair, she toweled off and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt.
Though she was feeling almost normal, her shoulders and neck were cramped from being on the run and carrying the heavy bag. Moving back into the cabin and stretching out on the bed, she gratefully closed her eyes.
Scott’s image floated to the front of her mind, and as if by magic, there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” she called, opening her eyes and sitting up.
Scott entered, his face solemn.
“After sleeping on the ground this bed is sheer heaven,” she remarked gratefully.
He tilted his head to the side as if studying her.
“I used to take surfing trips to Tijuana with my boyfriend,” she continued, uncomfortable under his inscrutable gaze and lack of response. “We’d sack out in the bed of his truck or on the sand. It was great, but looking back I don’t know how I did it.”
“It was a choice,” he said, finally speaking. “Doing something because you want to is very different from doing something because you have to.”
“No kidding,” she murmured, thinking back to the carefree days as she absently rubbed the back of her neck. “Those were happy times.”
“Sore?”
“Very, from lugging that bag around.”
“I’ve closed up the salon and lowered the sunshades. You can sit at the table for dinner and not be seen.”
“That’s great, thanks, I’m starving.”
Sliding down the mattress, she accepted his hand to help her off, but he didn’t step back, and as she stood up they were only inches apart.
“Glad to see that wig is off.”
“You didn’t like me as a blonde?”
“Let’s just say I prefer you as a brunette. Turn around.”
It had been a command, not a request.
Not sure what to expect as she pivoted on her feet, to her great relief he began kneading her knotted muscles.
“That feels amazing,” she breathed, closing her eyes. “Your hands are so strong.”
“I’m a sailor,” he said simply. “Tell me, Beth, are you acquainted with a cop named Detective Miller?”
Jolted by the question, she spun around and stared at him.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“H-how do you know him?” she asked urgently, trying to control her panic.
“I don’t, but I ran into him when I picked up dinner. He had an old photograph of you, and he seemed anxious to know if I’d—”
“Fuck! You didn’t tell him I was here, did you?”
