It was one of those nights when the whole world looked just like an unventilated bathroom after a long, hot shower. The road lifted over a hill in front of her stretched like a seal's back. She settled back into the leather of her Jaguar and listened to the engine hum.

There was a hush in the air, and no one was about, sort of like the way the world stood still when she happened to be out of the house on Christmas morning. People were content to be home at this hour.

Then people were content with a lot of things that she refused to be. Anymore.

She wasn't quite sure where she was driving to. There was an idea playing at the edge of her mind about seeing New Mexico, and she was headed in the right direction for that. Mountains sounded right as well. Like a pulse point on a heart monitor. Something that would pull her life out of the flatline that seemed to describe everything about her.

But she was successful! Ha! She laughed out loud, one syllable, short and sharp, and it echoed, harsh and mocking. She could hear their tongues now. Camilla was off the deep end.

Swimming away from the sharks had to be better than swimming with them.

Her efficiency served her well. The resignation letter had been drawn up inside an hour and delivered. The realtor had been at the house within the next and their sign would appear on the lawn before nightfall tomorrow. The storage company had been paid handsomely to come box everything she left behind and tuck it away somewhere safe until she was ready to toss it all. A few keystrokes and all bills were paid, cable service was cancelled, subscriptions suspended.

The part that took the longest was deciding what would come with her.

In the end, she'd decided that she could only take what would fit in the trunk. Her laptop and the cell phone were relunctantly packed, but she refused to have them in the cab of the car with her. She'd have to be able to call her mother to stop the APB that would be launched if she found out about any of this through the grapevine. Calling her from home was out of the question though. It simply wasn't home anymore.

There were a few other things back there in the trunk, mostly necessities, but some other things that had been stored for way too long. She felt like she was dusting off her soul as she blew away the film and loaded what amounted to playthings on top of the clothes--not a dress or a suit among them--and books she didn't want to live without. Her camera was the only thing allowed to ride on the seat beside her. She reached out to feel it, just to be sure, and her hand found only leather. Startled she glanced over and saw the solid shape of it shifted toward the passenger door. She centered it safely in the seat again and wondered if it would be absolute insanity to put it in a seatbelt.

A large semi derailed her train of thought with headlights that hit her squarely in the face. It would probably be better to pay a little more attention to the road instead of gloating over her escape. Still she found herself grinning at the thought of the jaws that would be dusting the floor as this news moved from one ear to another.

She could see Stuart Comers taking a bite of his morning pecan roll and asking Susan, "Where's Camilla?"

"She's quit, didn't you hear?"

And in her fantasy he'd choke and no one would know the Heimlich maneuver.

Pecan pie sounded good. And some coffee. Next town she'd find an all-night diner.