Before long, Louise and Jim were in the car, the unmarked van lagging behind about a half-kilometre back so as not to draw attention. The detective was at the wheel, and she propped her elbow upon the window ledge, running a hand across the smooth side of her chignon.

"You kissed me with intent, back there. Why?"

She idly glanced at him from her position behind the wheel, at least 25 miles ahead of them before reaching the airstrip.