She punched the dashboard so hard it hurt her hands. Cried, sat back, drained.

Realizing she was exposed by the interior lights, she switched them off.

Now what?

Call the Triple A! Why hadn’t she thought of that?

It took what seemed like a long time to find her cell phone in her purse. Even longer to locate her Triple A card.

Tapping out the toll-free number was hard because even with the phone light the numbers were teeny and her hands were shaky.

When the operator answered, she read off her membership code. Had to do it twice because her eyes had blurred and it was hard to see what was a 3 and what was an 8.

The operator put her on hold, came back and said her membership had lapsed.

Kat said, “No way.”

“Sorry, ma’am, but you haven’t been active for eighteen months.”

“That’s frickin’ impossible-”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but-”

“Like hell you are-”

“Ma’am, there’s no reason to be-”

“Like hell there isn’t.” Kat clicked off.

Now what?

Think, think, think – okay, plan B: Call Bethie’s cell and if that interrupted something, too frickin’ bad.

The phone rang five times before Bethie’s voice mail kicked in.

Kat hung up. Her phone went dead.

Jabbing the Power button did nothing.

That brought back a vague memory of something she’d neglected.

Charging up before she went out tonight – how the hell had she forgotten?

Now her whole body was shaking and her chest was tight and she was sweating.

She double-checked to make sure the car was locked.

Maybe a highway patrol dude would come by.

What if another car did?

Don’t talk to strangers.

What was her choice, sleeping here all night?

She nearly fell asleep before the first car showed up, speeding toward her, headlights startling her.

Big Range Rover; good.

Kat waved out the window. Bastard sped right by.