honeymoon. They even wore a pair of stainless-steel wedding bands they’d picked up cheaply at the discount store in Boise.
She toyed with the ring as they left the bus station, staying close to Joe. Outside, Salt Lake City sparkled like a thousand jewels as twilight descended. The setting sun painted the mountains in the east in tones of gold and red, reminding Jane of the Sawtooth Mountains back home.
Her stomach twisted as that word rang in her head.
For better or worse, it was time to leave Trinity behind and find out who she really was.
Joe caught her hand as they crossed the street, following the crowd toward a large mall visible a few blocks ahead. They found a sub sandwich shop in the mall and grabbed a couple of sandwiches for dinner. Jane enjoyed the anonymity of the large mall, the sense of safety in numbers. As they ate, she found herself pretending she was just an ordinary woman, having dinner with a friend.
A boyfriend, she amended mentally. Since it was her fantasy.
Maybe they had met in college. Joe was probably a few years older than she was, but maybe he’d worked a while and gone to college later. He’d majored in criminal justice, of course. Top of his class. Her major had been-
What? What interested her? What was she good at? She had no idea.
“What did I tell you about myself? Back in Wyoming,” she asked aloud.
Joe looked up from his dinner. “Not much, really. You didn’t talk about your past. You were all about the present. And sometimes the future.”
“Did I tell you other things about myself? What my dreams were? What talents or skills I had?”
He gazed across the table at her, his expression apologetic. “Not a lot. I know you liked music. You could play the piano.”
“I play the piano?” She smiled at that.
“Yeah. You said you came to it later in your life and wished you had been able to take lessons when you were younger. You wanted to be better at it.”
“Did I ever play for you?”
His expression softened. “Yeah. You did. I have a piano at home. It belonged to my mother, but she died before she could teach me to play. My father thought piano lessons were a waste. I was going to be a rancher like he was, and that was that.”
“But you’re a policeman instead.”
He nodded. “Call me a rebel.”
She laughed. “Oh, yeah. You’re a rebel.”
He smiled. “You used to tease me about that.”
“About what? Being a rebel?”
“Being a cowboy. Mom, America, apple pie-”
“Cowboy Joe,” she murmured.
“Yeah.” His smile faded, and she could almost see him putting deliberate distance between them. “Let’s see if we can find a clothing store around here anywhere. We need a few more things if we’re going to spend too much more time on the move.”
They spent the next hour looking for a few items to add to their stash of supplies. Joe bought a gym bag to accommodate the jeans and fleece items they bought in case they had to rough it outdoors. They were a couple of months from temperate weather, especially at night. “It won’t hurt to be prepared,” Joe said as they took the last of their supplies to the checkout stand.
They made it back to the bus terminal with a half hour to spare. During the wait to board the new bus, Joe transferred their purchases to the gym bag, while Jane counted up what cash they had left. “We still have about $2,000,” she told him softly.
“Maybe that’ll be enough,” he answered.
“Enough for what?”
“To make more,” he answered cryptically.
The boarding call came before she could ask him what he meant. He picked up the extra bag, gave her a look. “Reno, here we come.”
She followed him slowly to the bus, terrified of what lay ahead.
Chapter Ten
“Double down, mister,” Joe said to the blackjack dealer, taking Jane’s hand and kissing it “for luck” as he’d explained to the dealer the first time he’d done it. Jane slanted a look at Joe, amused by the relish with which he was playing the role of the clueless bumpkin for the blackjack dealer.
The dealer arched an eyebrow, looking at the three and the seven in his own hand. Joe held a nine and a two. The dealer laid down another card for Joe. A three of hearts.
Jane flashed a friendly smile at the blackjack dealer, a man in his late fifties who looked like a permanent fixture behind the table. He was older than the dealers she’d talked to at the other casinos.
The Painted Pony Casino was the third they’d tried since heading for the strip early that morning. They’d come up empty at the first two. Nobody admitted to knowing the con man Jane had seen in her dream.
Maybe she’d get lucky here.
“I’ve always thought it would be fun to be a dealer,” she commented airily. “Do you have to know any math?”
The dealer looked up at her with an amused smile. “Can you add up to twenty-one, ma’am?”
“Yes.”
“That’s all the math we want to see going on at a blackjack table,” he answered, dealing himself a card. The six of clubs. He glanced up at Joe, who was lightly drumming his fingers on the blackjack table. “Newlyweds?”
Joe gave Jane a look so besotted that it made her stomach turn flips. “Just got hitched,” he answered with a sly wink at the dealer. “Now I’ve got to make a little money to pay the bills.”
The dealer uncovered the facedown card in front of Joe-the six of diamonds. He played his own facedown card. A jack of spades. “I guess it’s your lucky day all around, then, mister.” He slid the winnings toward Joe.
“I used to come to Reno with my family when I was a kid,” Jane said as Joe motioned for the dealer to deal him another hand. “I can barely remember any of it. There was this guy though-an older guy. I remember he had coal-black hair with just a little gray at the temples. And he dealt that game-what’s that game where there are three cards, and you switch them around and around and someone tries to guess where the queen or the ace or whatever is?”
“Three-card monte, darling,” Joe drawled, tapping the eight of hearts in front of him. “I don’t think folks here at the casinos consider that a proper card game.”
The dealer grinned as he dealt Joe a queen of diamonds. “No, we don’t. And, ma’am, if you run into that particular guy again, turn around and run the other way.”
A flutter of excitement rippled through Jane, tinged with apprehension. She darted a look at Joe. He fingered the edge of his card and tried to look more interested in the game than the conversation.
She couldn’t be quite so nonchalant about their first lead all day. “So you know the guy I’m talking about? Does he ever come here to the Painted Pony?”
“If it’s the guy I’m thinking about, he still runs those games now and then, but he hasn’t been welcome in any legitimate casino in town in years.”
Joe laid the back of his hand against Jane’s cheek. “Baby, you’re not going to drag me off to some shell game just so you can take a trip down memory lane, are you?”
She pouted. “You promised for better or for worse.”
Joe shook his head at the dealer. “Women.”
“Do you know the guy’s name? Or even where we could find him?” Jane asked, ignoring Joe’s exaggerated
