"Canton is in Ohio."

"Maybe they moved it, or maybe, John, there's a Canton in New York."

"We'll see." So we continued southwest on Route 11.

Kate was back to the chamber of commerce pamphlet. "There are a lot of colleges in the area, so the percentage of college-educated people is higher than the national average."

"You'd freeze your college-educated butt off up here."

"The average temperature in January is twenty-seven degrees. That's not too bad."

"Tell me that in January."

"We could stay with your parents in Florida for the winter."

"I'd rather freeze to death." I looked at the dashboard clock, which said 11:47. I needed to call Dick Kearns as soon after noon as possible.

The road was well traveled and cut through open country, farms, and hamlets. We were definitely out of the Adirondack Mountain region and into the Great Lakes plains. Back there in God's country, where the bears outnumbered the people and road traffic was light, Kate and I would attract attention and be remembered. Here, we blended in with the general population. As long as I kept my smart mouth shut.

The little Hyundai handled well, but I'd wanted a four-wheel drive in case we needed to crash the fence at Custer Hill at some point in time. Like tonight.

I asked Kate, "How much ammo do you have?"

She didn't reply.

"Kate?"

"Two extra magazines in my briefcase."

I had one magazine in my inside jacket pocket. I never carry enough ammo. Maybe if I had a briefcase or a purse, I'd carry an extra magazine. "Is there a sporting-goods store in Canton?"

Without answering, she flipped through a local guide, then said, "Here's an ad for a sporting-goods store in Canton."

"Good."

We drove in silence, and within ten minutes, she said, "Turn here onto Route 68. Look for Wilma's B and B."

"Maybe we can open a B and B. You'll cook and clean. I'll shoot at the arriving guests."

No reply.

I saw the sign for Wilma's and pulled into a gravel drive that ran through a rolling field dotted with evergreens. Up ahead was a Cape Codstyle house with a covered porch.

I stopped the car, and we got out and stepped up to the porch. I looked back toward the highway, which was barely visible.

Kate asked me, "Okay?"

"Perfect. Looks like someplace where Bonnie and Clyde would stay."

She rang the doorbell, and a minute later, a middle-aged gent opened the door and asked, "Can I help you?"

Kate said, "We'd like a room for the night."

"Well, you came to the right place."

That must be the local line. They probably said the same thing when you showed up at the hospital for an emergency appendectomy.

We went inside to a small office space in the foyer, where the proprietor, Ned, said, "You got your choice. Two rooms upstairs, or two cottages."

I said, "We'll take a cottage."

He showed us two photos. "That's Pond House-it's on a pond. And this here's the Field House."

The Field House looked suspiciously like a house trailer. Kate said, "I think the Pond House. John?"

"Right." I asked Ned, "Do you have outside phone lines in these cottages?"

He chuckled. "Sure do. Got electricity, too."

I wanted to tell him we'd just come from a luxury resort without television or phone service, but he wouldn't believe that.

He said, "Pond House has cable TV and VCR, and you got Internet hookup."

"No kidding? Hey, do you have a laptop I could borrow or rent?"

"Got one you can use for free, if you get it back to me by six-thirty. That's when the wife goes on eBay to check her auction. That woman buys junk, then she sells it back on eBay. She says she's making money, but I don't think so."

If I wasn't trying to keep a low profile, I'd tell him that she was probably fucking the UPS guy. But I just smiled.

Anyway, I paid cash for the room, which Ned appreciated, and he didn't seem to need any ID or security deposit. He handed me his laptop, worth about a thousand bucks. I thought about asking him for a six-pack of beer while I was at it, but I didn't want to impose on his hospitality.

Ned gave us a key to the cottage, some basic house rules, and directions to Pond House. "Just follow your nose."

That would have put me in his kitchen, but I think he meant get in the car first.

Kate and I went to the car, and she said to me, "Do you see how nice and trusting people are here?"

"I seem to be missing my wallet."

She ignored that and continued, "This is like where I was raised in Minnesota."

"Well, they did a good job there. Let's discuss relocation later."

I followed my nose for a hundred yards, and we came to a little shingled cottage on a pond.

Kate took her briefcase, and we entered. It was a decent enough place, with a combination sitting room, bedroom, and kitchen decorated in what looked like eclectic eBay. Out back was an enclosed porch that overlooked the pond. Hopefully, there was an indoor bathroom somewhere.

Kate was inspecting the kitchen, and I asked her, "What's in the fridge?"