Where the Road Ends. Tara Quinn Taylor

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      With her head resting against the seat, she felt the keypad with her thumb, pushed a speed-dial key and hit the call button.

      “Hi,” she said softly when Cara answered.

      “Amelia! Where are you, love? How are you? Do you have any news?”

      If she’d had the energy, Amy would have smiled.

      The vent was pointed directly at her face, a blast of heat hitting her on the left cheek. Irritated and hot, she thought about moving her head, the vent, something.

      “I’m in Douglas, Michigan,” she said, thankful that she didn’t have to hide the weariness that was swallowing her up. Cara would see past any attempt she made to pretend. Her friend had been there last month, when Amy was pretty much catatonic for the days it had taken to get through Christmas. Cara had tried, forcing Amy to go to Christmas Eve service, insisting on the traditional turkey dinner, buying Amy a gift—a beautiful, one-of-a-kind mohair coat from Amy’s favorite designer.

      The coat had brought tears to Amy’s eyes, the only evidence of emotion she’d shown the entire five days she’d been home.

      She thought of that coat, tucked away, unworn, in her closet at home. Amy Wayne had no use for a mohair coat. “I found Kathy this morning, but—”

      “You what!”

      Cara’s shriek resounded in Amy’s aching head.

      “I saw her leave a parking lot this morning. I was in a diner and apparently all she needed was the five minutes she had on me. I haven’t seen her since.”