But the road remained empty.
The building was called Gas Station Cactus Jack’s Last Chance. A faded sign warned that the next gas station was eighty-seven miles away. Beyond the only supplier and the small convenience store, there was nothing but heat, desert scrubs and distant mountains.
Then I remembered that my purse, my wallet and my phone were inside the truck.
Kyle asked me to buy him an energy drink. Since I thought we’d only be there for two minutes, I left it all behind.
Inside the store, I asked the dependent to let me use the phone.
“The pay phone is in the background,” he said without looking away from the TV.
“I have no money. My husband left with my belongings.”
