by Thomas Perry
"I just don't know. Maybe Richard doesn't even know what they're doing. It's possible he just wants another chance. Maybe all he wants is to be sure he can see the baby when it's born."
Jane studied her for a few seconds. "The moment that bomb went off in the hospital, those six people were finished. Eventually the police will find them, and they'll be in jail until they're ninety if they're lucky. I don't have any proof that Richard knew about that, or that he knows about it now. Maybe if he knew, he'd be smart enough to turn them in."
"Maybe he would," said Christine. "Maybe I should try to talk to him."
"If you want to talk to Richard, I think you should. The safe way is to use a pay phone, because it won't show up on caller ID. There are three booths over there outside the ladies' room, and they're the old-fashioned kind with a door you can close."
"Do you really think I should?"
"I think if you want to, this may be the last good time. Just don't tell him about your cell phone, where we are, where we're going, or anything about me."
"Of course not."
"I'll wait here," said Jane. "Don't stay on the line more than ten minutes."
Jane watched her go into the phone booth, close the door, and dial. Then she returned her attention to her surroundings. It was not unlikely that the six—now four—would make their way north to the Thruway, too. There were only about three big highways that ran all the way across the state, and they had blocked one of them. Jane had never seen the faces of the two women or the two remaining men who were hunting Christine, so she scrutinized every adult who walked into the restaurant. She also studied every car that coasted off the Thruway into the huge parking lot. She was still looking for a black sedan like the ones that they had been driving an hour or two ago, but by now they could be driving anything. Jane suspected that they would come off the Thruway and then drive up and down the aisles searching for her car, so she watched for any vehicle that seemed to be taking an indirect route to a parking space.
The tactics of the hunters reminded her of the police. There had been five of them in five cars, all apparently communicating by telephone or radio. Nobody caught more fugitives than the police, and the police did things in certain ways for practical reasons.
She kept her eyes up and scanning, but let her mind wander. It was still before dawn, but she could already see a subtle change in the quality of the darkness. At this time yesterday she had been in bed upstairs in the big old house. She remembered touching the button on the alarm and rolling over to wake up Carey by pressing her body against his big, warm back and kissing the nape of his neck. He had turned around and held her for only a minute because there had not been time.
Carey was always up early because his first surgery was scheduled for seven. She put on a bathrobe and went downstairs to make his breakfast, but she was already thinking about her day. She would have to get to the hospital to help prepare for the benefit that night. She remembered listening for Carey's heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. She'd had absolutely no premonition that in twenty-four hours things would be this different.
She saw a man standing in the entrance of the building, just inside the glass doors. He seemed to be browsing in the display rack for brochures for tourist attractions, but his eyes would flick upward to focus on Christine for a second or two, then return to the rack. Jane bent her legs to pull her feet back from under the table and shifted some of her weight onto the balls of her feet. She glanced at Christine, and saw her notice the man, but her face gave no sign of recognition. She simply turned away from him and continued her phone call.
Jane added the man to the array of sights that she was holding in her consciousness. He obviously wasn't one of the six, but he could be someone who represented some other danger. She would know him if she saw him again.
Her sense of how long things should take made her turn her attention to Christine in the phone booth. Jane saw her turn to the side, her head down. She was saying something emphatically, and she was crying.
Jane turned her eyes away to watch the road. She had been waiting for something, and now she saw it. Two identical black cars flashed past, and Jane waited, still looking out the window. After a minute or two another pair of black cars went by. Jane stood up, took the check to the cash register, and paid for their breakfast. Then she walked to the phone booth.
Christine saw her and hung up. Jane opened the door and handed her a napkin to dry her eyes. "They just went by, heading east. Let's use the restroom and get back on the road."
In a few minutes they were in the car again. As they buckled themselves in, Jane said, "Did you learn anything I need to know?"
"Not exactly," said Christine. "Nothing is different. It's all awful."
"In what way?" Jane drove out of the lot and accelerated along the entrance ramp.
"At first he sounded the way he used to when I was with him. He said he missed me and had been so worried about me, and where was I and what could he do to help me. He said he knew I must need money and a place to stay. He tried to get me to check into a hotel somewhere and let him know where, so he could come and pick me up. He sounded so sweet, so sincere."
"Did you ask him about the six people he sent after you?"
"He said he didn't know anything about that. At first he said it couldn't be the same ones who worked for him. Then he said they only used to work for him once in a while, doing security on buildings. He said they don't anymore, and maybe they're trying to kidnap me to make him pay a ransom."
"Is there any chance that any of that is true?"
"I know they didn't just work for him once in a while. They were in and out of the office all the time. They made a lot of money. He seemed to have forgotten that I paid them. And we never hired anybody for security on the buildings. They were all rented out, and if tenants wanted guards for their stores or offices, they hired them. When I was talking to Richard, I really wanted to believe what he was saying. I even said to myself that I would make myself believe him. Maybe he wasn't telling the exact truth, but that didn't mean that the lies were important. Maybe he was just telling little lies to keep me from worrying or being afraid. He said he loved me and wanted me back, so maybe he was just lying to smooth things over. But he blew it."
"How?"
"He said something about you. He said you must have turned me against him. He wanted to know who you were and how I knew you. Don't you see? How could he know you existed if the six didn't tell him?"
"I can't imagine."
"I told him it proved he was lying, and then he changed. He started trying to scare me. He said that I was carrying around his child and endangering it, and that if something happens to the baby, he'll consider me a murderer. And if nothing does, then after the baby is born, Richard will make sure it's taken away. It was so horrible."
"You've had your conversation. Is there anything he didn't tell you that you'll need to know?"
"There are a thousand things I want to know. If he wants me, why did he treat me so badly? If he didn't want me, why did he make such an effort to keep me around? What will he do if I don't get caught in a month? A year? What will he do to me if I do get caught?"
"He didn't tell you?"
"Not the truth."
"Then is there any reason to talk to him again?"
"No."
"Then don't. From now on, any time you talk to him, you'll be putting yourself in danger of having him find you and give you the answers." Jane reached the first exit after the rest stop, took it, and paid the toll, then drove back to the Thruway on the westbound side and took another toll ticket.
"What are you doing?"
"It took us a long night and some luck. But right now, I think we have all four of them driving east following that long-haul truck with your cell phone attached to it. We have Richard thinking that they're about to catch up with us before we reach New York City. We have a good identification for you and a better set being made. It's time to drive as hard as we can in the
opposite direction." Jane paused. "You might want to get some sleep."
"Can I turn on the radio?"
"Sure. But won't it keep you awake?"
"I go to sleep with the radio on," said Christine. "I know it's weird, but it's a habit." She turned it on and pushed buttons until she found a station that she seemed to approve of, and settled back in her seat.
An hour later when the music was replaced for the fifth time by a commercial for a mattress store in Rochester, a news bulletin came on. "Late-breaking story," said the newswoman. "Seneca County Sheriff's deputies have found a man's body beside a road in a rural area south of Waterloo this morning. The man was carrying no identification, but he was driving a rental car, so the Sheriff's office expects that they'll have positive ID soon. Our information is that he was shot to death execution style some time during the night. His body also showed signs of having been hit by a car, but the spokesperson refused to speculate on how that related to his murder."
Christine was sitting up again. "They killed him because he was hurt?"
"Because they didn't want to leave him there to answer questions." She drove on for a few seconds before she acknowledged Christine's stare. "It helps to learn to think the way your enemies do. You spend less time being surprised."
6
Jane drove west as far as Exit 50 on the edge of Amherst with a growing feeling of tension. She took the exit onto the Youngmann Expressway, got off at Millersport Highway, and drove to the big old stone McKinnon house. She pulled into the driveway and around the house and stopped in front of the garage, where her car was hidden from the street.
Christine awoke as soon as the car stopped moving. "What?" she said, her eyes blinking. She sat up. "Where—What are we doing?"
"This is my house—the one where I live with my husband. We've got to do this quickly." Jane got out and stood still, studying the house.
She had already seen that there was nothing obvious like a broken windowpane or scratches around the door lock, but she was looking for signs that were subtler. The hose attached to the spigot at the corner of the house was still in exactly the same position, snaking along the back to the row of rosebushes she had watered before leaving for the hospital. There was dust along the outer windowsills on the first floor. She had noticed it yesterday, but not had time to clean them. The dust had not been disturbed. Christine was out of the car now, at Jane's side. Jane said, "They haven't found their way here yet."
"Why are we here?"
"Slight change of plan."
"We're going to stay here?"
"No, we're going to the airport to rent a car."
"Is something wrong with yours?"
"Yes. They saw it. I don't think they could have gotten the plate number—I certainly didn't have time to read theirs—but a white Volvo is a recognizable car. I'd rather be driving something else while they're looking for us. But we've got to be out of here before they realize we must have come back this way. Ready?"
"I guess so."
As they backed out of the driveway, Jane said, "Here's what's going to happen. I'll drive us to the airport. Watch closely how I get there from here. I'll get out, and you drive straight back here and wait for me."
When they reached the departure level of the Buffalo Niagara International Airport, Jane got out carrying her shoulder bag, and watched Christine drive off. Then she hurried to the arrival level near the baggage claim and crossed the street to the car rental building. She took quick strides past the counters for Hertz, Enterprise, National, and Avis, and stopped at Daycars. She handed the woman behind the counter her Daycars card, American Express card, and North Carolina driver's license in the name Valerie Collins and said, "Hi. I'd like to rent a car."
"What sort of car would you like?" said the woman. "Compact?"
"A luxury sedan. Something big and comfortable."
"We've got a Lincoln Town Car and a Chrysler 300."
"What colors?"
"The Chrysler is white, and the Lincoln is dark gray."
"I'll take the Lincoln."
The woman put the key to the Chrysler away. She copied the driver's license number, ran Valerie Collins's American Express card through the reader, and handed them back to Jane. "You know where the lot is?"
"No," Jane lied.
"Through that door and downstairs." She handed Jane the key. "It's in space nineteen."
"Thanks." Jane stepped away from the counter. She'd had a brief moment during the transaction when she stopped breathing, waiting for something to go wrong, even though she was sure it wouldn't. She knew the Valerie Collins cards wouldn't make any alarms go off, because she had grown the Valerie Collins identity during the days when she was still regularly taking fugitives out of the world. She had gone to North Carolina to buy the birth certificate, taken the tests for the driver's license, and opened a bank account to pay the credit card bills. From time to time she had added to the cover by buying things as Valerie Collins, giving to charities, joining organizations.
The only part that could trip her up was a mistake in her manner that raised suspicion. She had been tempted to use a fake North Carolina accent until she heard the first words of the woman at the counter, who had a real southern accent. Then Jane had been too brusque, as though she were angry. In the old days her actions were quick and sure. She was going to have to get back in practice before something went wrong. Her manner had to be flawless.
Jane took the glass elevator down to the lower level, found the car in its numbered parking space, and drove to her house thinking over everything she had done so far to keep Christine safe, searching for errors. After she was on the expressway for a mile, she caught herself driving too fast, and forced herself to lift her foot from the gas pedal a bit, but it was difficult. The sun was well up now, and the second day had begun, and incredibly, they were still within ten miles of the place where they had started running.
Christine was waiting for her around the back of the house when Jane pulled in. The Volvo was already in the garage. Jane got out of the rental car, took the keys and the garage door opener from Christine, and put them in the house. Christine stood by the driver's side of the Lincoln, but Jane said, "I'll drive a bit longer. I know the area, so I can make better time."
As Jane backed the big gray car out of the driveway and turned toward the Thruway entrance, Christine said, "This doesn't look like your kind of car."
"That's just what I wanted to hear. But it's big and comfortable and has a powerful engine, which are all good qualities for what we're doing. And it doesn't look at all like my Volvo." Jane drove off, rapidly gaining speed. She checked her mirrors every few seconds.
"What's the rest of your new plan?"
"To drive far and fast," said Jane. "We're only a few miles from where we started, and by now it's possible they know we came back this way. Buffalo couldn't be more dangerous for you if it were on fire. We'll start on the south branch of the Thruway and head along the lake toward Erie, Pennsylvania, then either turn east toward Pittsburgh or west toward Cleveland. Is there anything about either place that makes it more dangerous for you?"
"No. In fact, I have an aunt and some cousins in Pittsburgh. It's my father's younger sister. Her husband was an incredible jerk—big drinker, big cheater—but he died of a heart attack a few years ago. She's great, and so are the kids. We could probably stay with them."
"I'm afraid that wouldn't be a good idea. In fact they're what I meant by something that makes the city more dangerous for you—somebody who knows your name isn't Linda Welles."
"They'd never betray me."
Jane sighed. "I guess it's time for another lesson." Her eyes flicked to the mirrors, studying the cars behind her as she pulled onto the Thruway. She passed a truck and returned to the right lane, then watched for a few seconds to see if any other car came around the truck.
"You sound sad. What's wrong?"
Jane glanced at her, then moved her eyes back to the road and kept them there. "When
you came to me just after the bomb went off, I was hoping you were just a hysterical patient. When you told me Sharon had sent you, I knew you had to be more than that. Then I saw what was after you. You're going to have to learn everything at seventy miles an hour."
"What don't I know?"
"That I'm the last resort. A person comes to me only when the possibility of living as the person he's always been is gone. I can show you the way to sink out of sight, and come up again somewhere else as a new person. I can do it. But that doesn't mean you can. It isn't easy, and there are terrible sacrifices."
"Sacrifice? You're saying I have to sacrifice people? The few relatives I have left?"
"Yes. And your friends, and your enemies. For quite a few runners I've taken out, the enemies are the hardest ones to give up. But if you go with me, there's no revenge—not even in small ways. No matter how wonderful you make your new life, no matter what you accomplish, you can never go back and show the people you hated. You can never say to your father's ex-wife, 'You treated me horribly, but now take a look at me. I've beaten you.'"
"Okay. I guess I can understand that. You think that if I do, she just might find a way to get me found or something. But honestly, I know who I can trust, and exactly how far. My aunt Mary and my cousins in Pittsburgh are just the best people. They wouldn't tell anyone where I was, and they certainly don't know anybody who knows Richard Beale."
"You're not getting this. It's not that they'd do anything to hurt you. It's about hurting them. If we succeed completely in losing the people who are chasing you, the next thing they'll do is start working the most promising ways of picking up your trail again. If Richard Beale knows who your favorite relatives are, his people will find them and see if you're there. For a time they'll watch the house. They'll probably examine the mail every day for a letter that might be from you. Maybe they'll plant microphones inside, tap the phone. If they believe that your aunt knows where you are, then your aunt will get a visit."
"You're trying to scare me again."
"Yes," said Jane. "I am."
