I started for the highway. I’d been walking about three minutes when a car coming out from Reno swerved and slid to a stop. I looked up, my heart pounding in my throat.
Some woman was rolling down a window. Her arm concealed her face. I started toward the car, running across the pavement.
The window rolled down. The woman’s arm came away so I could see her face. It was Bertha.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“Getting things straightened out here.”
“No one showed up, did they?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think they would. It sounded goofy to me. Well, come on. We’ve got work to do.”
“What and where?”
“First we get back to Las Vegas. This man Kleinsmidt on the police force is raising merry hell, and you’re the only one who can do anything with him.”