She’d given up trying to talk to Reece a few miles back. She’d seen it made his driving worse, and there was no point getting killed, out on some back-ass county road in the dark, even in a situation like this. They’d kept passing old wrecks, left there because the state, let alone the county, couldn’t afford to do anything about them. She’d wondered if people in those had been talking to somebody like Reece when the crash happened. Then she’d remembered swallowing the black pill in the Hefty snack bar, and wondered if it was doing what it was supposed to do. Reece didn’t know about that, but he’d put her phone in a Faraday pouch.