“Why is it that when men approach women as conquests to be won they are lauded, but when women decide to go on a hunt of their own, they’re branded as too aggressive, too eager, too greedy? Your sex didn’t corner the market on ambition. Or a love of the chase.”

He laughs, surprising us both, I think.

“You have a point there. Speaking of conquests, where’s your friend from the train? Still mesmerized by the fish in the ocean?”

So he was paying attention earlier.

“He’s elsewhere. Now please go. We’ve made the requisite small talk; we’ve danced around insulting each other. I don’t have time for this, and as much as it pains me to disabuse you of any illusions you had, I really wasn’t interested in you for anything other than an opportunity to pass the time.”

But he doesn’t go. Instead he leans against the porch railing next to me, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Well, then, now that we’ve established you aren’t hopelessly in love with me, you can satisfy my curiosity as to why you’re standing out here at one of the hottest times of day, wearing the same dress you had on earlier on the train, your bags beside you, looking utterly lost. Are you waiting for someone?”

“No, I’m not waiting on anyone. I came here alone.”

Why won’t he go away?

“You’re joking. I assumed you were visiting family . . . friends . . .”

“I came down here to find someone,” I answer after a beat. “I thought he’d be here, and he isn’t. So now I’m leaving. You should do the same.”

“So if he isn’t here, where is he?” he asks.

I consider lying or refusing to answer altogether, but I’m too tired to be bothered, so the truth comes out instead.

“Lower Matecumbe Key, I think. Or Windley Key. I—I don’t know, exactly. We lost touch. But I’ve come to understand that’s where the veterans’ camps are.”

“He fought in the war?”

“Yes.”

“Those camps—that’s no place for someone like you.”

“I can take care of myself,” I repeat for the second time today.

If they only knew what my life was like back home; Key West is no match for New York City. A girl doesn’t survive these days without learning to keep her wits about her.

“I’m sure you can take care of yourself, but Matecumbe is hours away. You have a journey ahead of you.”

“I am aware of that. I’ve made it this far from New York. What’s a few more hours?”

“A great deal down here. How do you propose to get there? The train won’t run anymore tonight.”

A sharp stab of disappointment fills me. “Are you sure?”

“Last train left the station an hour ago.”

“There’s always tomorrow, then,” I say with false cheer. Surely, there’s a local shelter where I could stay. Not ideal, but I can think of worse possibilities, and it would hardly be the first time I’ve considered such an option.

As his gaze sweeps over me, his eyes narrowed slightly as though he can see the wear in my clothes as plain as day, he is likely realizing the tightness of my bodice has little to do with an attempt to play the coquette and far more to do with the fact that the gown was made for me years ago.

“Do you have a place to stay tonight?” he asks bluntly.

“I’m fine.”

He shifts back and forth, his brow furrowed—

“I have a car.” He gestures toward a Studebaker parked up the road. “I’ll take you to Matecumbe Key.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not. We don’t have much time if we’re going to catch the ferry, though. Are you interested?”

“You were unforgivably rude to me on the train earlier and now you want to help me?”

“I don’t like being toyed with. Haven’t the patience for it. On the train, you wanted a mouse to play with. Now we’ve established we have absolutely no romantic interest in each other, I think I can manage a good deed or two, and you definitely could use the help.”

He reaches into his breast pocket and shows me a badge.

Agent Sam Watson. Federal Bureau of Investigation.

“You work for the government?”

“I do.”

I’m not sure if that’s a point in his favor or not, though likely not. I assess the risk of getting into a car with a strange man, the waitress’s earlier admonition to be careful down here ringing in my ears. Despite what others may say, I’m not entirely reckless. But, still, there’s the inescapable fact that I have next to no money and I need to head north as quickly as possible.

Besides, considering who is coming after me, I could do worse than the company of a federal agent. Hopefully, even Frank would pause before going after a government man.

“I’m Elizabeth,” I say, the decision made. There’s a risk to leaving with him, but a greater one to getting stuck here.

His lips curve.

“No Eliza?”

“Eliza to my friends only,” I lie. “The waitress at the diner recommended an inn near Islamorada. She said it was a good place to stay.”

“What’s the name of the place?”

“Sunrise Inn.”

“I usually stay at the Matecumbe Hotel, but I know it. You’ll be in between the camps there. I’ll see you safely to Matecumbe. You have my word.”

“Your word as a government man?”

“My word as a gentleman.”

“Why are you helping me?”

He shrugs. “I’m going that way anyway. Besides, I bet you’ll get into trouble if left to your own devices, and maybe I don’t want that guilt on my conscience.”

“I am perfectly capable—”

He makes an impatient noise. “I’m sure you are, but a girl by yourself at night in a place like this with nowhere to go isn’t exactly prudent. Especially if you have as little money as I bet you do. I’m happy to do what I can to help. Are you planning on staying at this inn?”

“Yes.”

He glances up at the sky, the clouds threatening once more. “If we’re going to leave, we should do so soon. I have business up in Upper Matecumbe Key, and I’ve already spent too much time lingering here. Besides, they’re predicting rain this evening, and I’d rather not get caught in a storm.”