‘No need to pull that face,’ Papetti said. ‘Ain’t no vanity plates on this bitch.’ ‘Ain’t any,’ he said. ‘Fuck you.’ She side-punched him lightly on the arm. They cleared the wreckage — a jack-knifed semi-trailer, two crumpled hatchbacks and a dusty old Pajero leaning too far and too low at one corner, the semi burning bright and pumping out thick clouds of grey-black smoke — and pulled over to the left. She flicked on the headlights and the hazard lights before unbuckling her seatbelt. ‘What’s this, you going to render assistance?’ he said. ‘I’m curious to see what kind of shape that SUV’s in.’ ‘You thinking of switching rides?’ ‘I’m thinking if he has no use for what’s left in the fuel tank, then we do.’ ‘Wow, that’s cold.’ ‘That’s practical.’ She was right, but to Dave it still felt wrong. He knew they had to find Jenny, and he was more than willing to take whatever action was necessary to achieve that, but he couldn’t help wondering what Clary White would have to say about this. Should he put on a hat and dark glasses and hope nobody recognises him?
