“Let him think he’s getting it,” I said.

I turned and walked out through the restaurant’s front doors into the cold Dallas night.

Three minutes later, Rebecca came out of the side alley in a thin corduroy jacket over her server’s clothes, carrying a canvas tote bag.

My silver Ford truck sat in the side alley near the grease traps, its engine idling low.

I went around to the passenger side and opened the heavy steel door for Rebecca as she climbed into the cab out of the cold night air.

I dropped Rebecca at a quiet motor lodge off the highway loop, paid the night manager sixty-five dollars cash for two nights, and parked my truck across the street until sunrise.