On the Run

by Charlotte Greene

  “Where are we going?” Annie asked.

  “North.”

  Annie laughed. “Yes, but where?”

  Gwen glanced over at her. “I was thinking Colorado. I know a place in Denver we could hole up. Let things settle down a bit.”

  “Won’t they check there? I mean, if they know who you are now? Wouldn’t that be the first place the police will go?”

  “No, actually. The apartment isn’t listed under my name. It’s totally safe.”

  They drove in silence for a few minutes. Out of the corner or her eye, Gwen saw Annie fidgeting next to her, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

  “You have another idea?” she asked.

  “No. I guess I don’t. And you’re right—a few days in a safe place would be smart.”

  Gwen sighed. “Annie—I get it. You want this whole thing solved right away. But you have to realize that’s not going to happen. It’s going to take time, and we have to have a plan.”

  “For what? I mean, really, what can we do? We’re totally screwed.” Annie choked on these last words and started crying.

  Gwen took the next exit for a rest area and pulled into a parking space. She unbuckled her belt and scooted over to Annie, pulling her into a tight hug. Annie immediately squeezed her back, shaking with sobs.

  “Shh. It’s going to be okay.”

  Annie drew back, her face dark and upset. “How? How the hell is it going to be okay? I don’t want to spend the rest of my life running. I want this to be over.”

  “Do you want to turn yourself in?”

  Annie hesitated and then shook her head. “No.”

  “So what do you want?”

  “I want my goddamn money!” She almost screamed the words, and Gwen flinched in surprise. “I want my money, and I want the fuckers that set me up to pay. I want my sister taken care of, and I want my life back!”

  Gwen let her cry for a while, hugging her with one arm, watching other travelers walk by their car. The families she saw, with their little kids and dogs, were only a few feet away from them, but they might as well have been on another planet. No one seemed to notice the little breakdown happening inside their car, for which Gwen was grateful, but she still felt conspicuous.

  Finally, Annie seemed to calm down and wiped her face hard with her hands. Gwen moved away and reached into the back seat for her bag. She dug around inside and pulled out a little pack of tissues. Annie took one from her, her expression sheepish and embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry. I kind of lost it.”

  “It’s okay. You’re allowed.”

  Annie raised her shoulders. “Maybe, but hysteria won’t help, either.”

  “That’s why we need a plan.”

  “You keep saying ‘we.’”

  Gwen laughed. “Yes, we.”

  “But why, Gwen? Why are you helping me? You could leave me right here. Drive to the nearest police station, and all you have to say is that I forced you to do it. I’ll back you up if I’m caught. So why are you helping me?”

  Gwen shook her head, exasperated. “You know.”

  “What? What do I know?”

  Rather than respond, Gwen kissed her, putting the force of her feelings behind her lips. Annie gradually relaxed and responded, pulling her closer a moment later. When they drew away from each other, Annie’s eyes, still sparkling with her tears, were large and surprised.

  “Oh,” she said.

  “Exactly—oh.”

  To recover her composure, Gwen moved back to her own seat and pulled on her seat belt again. She gestured at the building with the restrooms outside their car. “Do you need to go?”

  Annie was still staring at her, still looking startled, but she managed to shake her head.

  “Okay, then,” Gwen said, starting the car. “Let’s get back on the road.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Gwen struggled with the key, her arms loaded with groceries. The apartment was on the third floor, a walk-up, and the last thing she’d wanted to do was make two trips. The paper bags in her right arm tilted precariously, and she sighed and set all of them down on the floor to properly work the lock. The moment she slid the key in, Annie opened the door for her, looking relieved.

  “You were gone a long time.”

  “Yeah, well, I should have known better than to go out during the after-work rush. The traffic was crazy, and the store was a madhouse.”

  Annie bent down to grab half of the groceries. “Did anybody say anything about the car when you left it? What about the store? Did anyone recognize you?”

  “No one gave me a second glance. I told you—it’ll be fine.”

  They’d made it to Denver yesterday evening and had to sit through rush-hour traffic that stretched almost the entire distance from Colorado Springs. Both of them had been so tired when they reached the apartment, they’d gone straight to bed. Annie had woken her up early this morning, scared from a nightmare and still anxious, and when they’d finally fallen back to sleep, they’d slept until almost noon. They spent the early afternoon cleaning weeks of dust off the furniture and floors, and laundered the towels and sheets. Gwen had gone out to dump the car in a paid lot a few miles away, called the car dealer from a pay phone, and caught the bus back to this part of town to pick up groceries. Her errands had taken almost two hours.

  The apartment was in Denver’s Capitol Hill, a mixed socio-economic neighborhood of art students and young adults. This particular corner of Capitol Hill was considered one of the “gayborhoods” of Denver, but that was entirely by chance. As she’d told Annie, the place wasn’t really hers. It belonged to her employer and functioned as a cheap alternative for a long-term hotel when one of the agents needed to stay in the city. The super kept the keys and gave them to anyone with an employee ID, no questions asked. He wouldn’t report her to her boss—she’d stayed here before for jobs, no problem. He wasn’t likely to think twice about her. Gwen often volunteered for jobs in Denver and had spent a lot of time in this apartment, and in Denver, in general.

  “So what did you get?” Annie asked, peeking into one of the bags.

  “Food. Real food. None of that garbage we’ve been eating for the last two days.”

  Annie pulled out a bundle of kale and frowned. “I knew I should have gone with you.”

  Gwen laughed and pointed at a bag on the counter. “Don’t worry—I got you some of the junk food you requested, too. And three bottles of Coke.” She shuddered. “How anyone can drink that stuff is beyond me.”

  Annie’s eyes lit up, and she tore into a bag of cheese puffs, putting one in her mouth with clear pleasure. She was wearing one of Gwen’s shirts, and the sleeves were rolled up on her arms. Gwen wasn’t tall, by any means—slightly above average—but they had similar builds. If anything, Gwen was a little thinner. Still, as with Tom’s coat, Annie looked ridiculous in her shirt. It was also the last of the spares Gwen kept in her travel bag. At some point, they’d need to shop for clothes again.

  “Is anything better than a cheese puff?” Annie asked.

  “I can think of a thousand.”

  Annie threw one at her, and Gwen laughed, dodging it. “Say—why don’t you sit down and watch some TV? I’ll make dinner.”

  Annie was surprised. “You can cook?”

  “Yes.” She hesitated. “I actually trained as a chef, before…”

  “Before stealing cars for a living?”

  “Basically.”

  “How did you get into it? Being a PI?”

  “I was between jobs. It happens, when you’re first working in kitchens. Restaurants come and go. I’m also kind of…temperamental, and some of my bosses didn’t like me. I stormed out a few times and got in couple of fights. After my culinary training, I had like ten jobs in two years. I was being stupid. I quit one job without notice, only to have my new one lay me off two weeks later. Anyway, I had a bad reputation, so I wasn’t getting anything, even part time, after that.”

  She paused, pulling out a
bottle of chilled sparkling wine. She held it up for Annie, who nodded eagerly. She opened it and poured them two tall glasses in mismatched tumblers. She and Annie clinked glasses, and she took a small sip. The wine was soft and slightly tart, the bubbles kissing their way across her tongue.

  “Ooh, that’s good. What was I saying?”

  Annie had downed her entire glass, and Gwen filled it for her again.

  “You got laid off, and you couldn’t get work.”

  “Right. So anyway, my friend Reggie had been doing some computer stuff for my current employer and was making okay money at it. He got me an interview, and pretty soon I had some cool gigs, got to travel, all sorts of things. I thought it’d be temporary—long enough for a few restaurants to forget my name. I did some footwork for a local branch of my company at first—stakeouts on cheating wives and the like. Eventually, I studied for the investigator’s exam and passed, and started getting different kinds of work here and out of town.”

  “How long have you been doing it?”

  Gwen considered for a moment and then shook her head. “Jesus. It’s been twelve years. Christ.”

  “You don’t sound like you like it much.”

  “Some parts are fine. I like the travel best—seeing new things, leaving before I’m sick of a place.” She shrugged. “But other parts get really old. And sometimes things screw up, and it’s not my fault, but I get blamed.”

  “Did that happen the other day? Back in Texas?”

  Gwen laughed. “No. That one was my fault.” She grinned. “I punched our client in the face.”

  Annie’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

  Gwen nodded. “Really. He pushed my buttons one too many times. I think I broke his nose, but I didn’t stick around to check. I just walked out the door.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. I don’t think I’m employed anymore. That client was kind of a big deal—lots of money involved, lots of our agents. We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t sue.”

  “You haven’t called in to the office?”

  “No. No reason to. I know what my boss will say, and he can kiss my ass. I told him that client was a shithead, wasn’t worth all the hassle, but he told me to put up with it. And I did—for almost six months. But like I said, the client went too far one too many times.” She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter now, anyway. I was kind of ready to move on. Have been, for a while.”

  Annie watched her prepare the salmon and asparagus, her eyes tracking Gwen around the tiny but functional galley-style kitchen. After the fish and vegetables were baking in the oven, Gwen took out the fresh loaf of bread she’d bought from her favorite local baker and sliced it in half, lengthwise, before spreading a liberal amount of garlic and butter on it. She set a timer and gestured for Annie to follow her into the little living room. A love seat and a single armchair were all that could fit in the small space. They sat together, and Gwen set the bottle of wine on the little coffee table for refills.

  “In twenty minutes, I’ll put the bread in, and we can eat in like thirty.”

  “Smells heavenly, already.”

  “Better than cheese puffs?”

  Annie grinned. “Yes—better. Barely.”

  The apartment was a small, one-bedroom in an old, gorgeous building. The neighborhood hadn’t entirely gentrified, so in a building like this, the renters were pretty mixed. Gwen had passed a young, attractive straight couple on the stairs wearing matching North Face jackets and had then seen several punk and goth twenty-somethings piling into their studio apartment on the next floor. The building had been built in the 1920s, so the construction was solid, the walls thick and soundproof, which was generally more than you could ask for in an older apartment. Another benefit was the large windows, which, on this summer evening, lit the apartment with a warm, yellow glow. Annie’s hair shone like white, spun gold, shimmering on her shoulders, and Gwen had to fight the urge to run her fingers through it.

  Annie’s eyes were a soft, hazy green, and her lips curled in a gentle smile. “What are you staring at?”

  Gwen smiled back. “You. You’re gorgeous.”

  Annie pushed her arm. “You’re not so bad yourself, lady.”

  “Even like this?” Gwen gestured vaguely at her ratty clothes and hair.

  Annie’s smile widened. “I like it. Kind of punk or something.”

  They both turned to the window, the sun finally starting to set outside. The view wasn’t great—only the building next door, but the windows over there reflected the soft, golden pink of the sky.

  “You seem to know your way around the city,” Annie said.

  “Spent a lot of time here. I actually went to college nearby. I also did culinary school a few blocks from here.”

  “That’s right. I forgot you said you were from Colorado.”

  “Yes, but up north. A little town called Berthoud.”

  “Do you visit there a lot?”

  Gwen shook her head. “Almost never. I see my brother once or twice a year, but he lives in Phoenix now, so I usually see him there.”

  “Your parents?”

  “We don’t talk.”

  “Are they…” Annie frowned. “I mean, did they grow up there?”

  Gwen almost laughed. She knew this was Annie’s way of asking where they were from and, by extension, Gwen herself. People always wanted to know. Gwen was actually surprised she’d waited so long to ask.

  “My dad’s Korean, first generation. My mom’s Guatemalan. They met in school in California and moved to Colorado for my dad’s job.”

  “Oh.”

  Annie didn’t push it further, and Gwen didn’t offer more details, relieved to drop the subject. She hated talking about her family. But then she remembered that Annie hadn’t mentioned her parents, either.

  They drank their wine in relative silence, discussing the sunset, the food, nothing very serious or important. The timer went off, Gwen got up to put in the bread, and when she rejoined her in the living room, Annie’s soft, relaxed expression was gone. She seemed tense again, anxious.

  “Hey,” Gwen said, sitting down. She squeezed Annie’s knee. “Don’t think about it for a little while. Let’s try to enjoy ourselves tonight. We’ve earned it after the last two days.”

  Annie shook her head. “I can’t. I wish I could. I keep thinking about my sister, all alone in that awful place.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t stand the thought of her in there.”

  Gwen nodded, not wanting to say something stupid or pretend everything would be all right. It probably wouldn’t, and there was no point saying so.

  “What was your plan? I mean, if you got the money?”

  Annie straightened up, eyes suddenly determined. “To bust her out of there.”

  “You can do that?”

  She shook her head. “No—I can’t, but Tom can. Like I told you, he has power of attorney. She’s like a little sister to him, too. We arranged the legal stuff right before I was arrested.”

  The timer went off again, and they got up. Gwen did the last of the prep work for the salad as the fish rested for a few minutes, and Annie set the table. For the first time in days, Gwen was actually excited to eat. She refilled their glasses with the last of the bottle, and they both dug in. Despite being “good” food, Annie ate with as much relish and gusto as she had with all the crap they’d consumed in diners and fast-food joints. As usual, Gwen finished first, Annie moving on to seconds and thirds. Considering that she’d seen this bottomless appetite before with the kind of food they’d had on the road, it wasn’t much of a compliment to her cooking, but she enjoyed watching her nonetheless. She suspected she would always enjoy watching Annie eat.

  They sat there for a while, digesting and finishing their wine, and Gwen watched as Annie’s face gradually reverted to that panicked, anxious edge again. Thinking and talking about her sister was clearly upsetting her, but she needed to do it, no matter how much it upset her. Maybe thinking of a new plan would help her. They had
to do something, anyway.

  “You said earlier that Tom can get your sister out of the hospital. Does that mean she can leave at any time?”

  Annie sighed. “Not exactly. The state requires that she have full-time care until she can demonstrate basic competency, which she’s never been able to do. She’s been reckless and a danger to herself and others. She’s not violent, but she’s been known to wander out of the house and walk into traffic, climb onto tall buildings. She’s gone swimming in public fountains, that kind of thing. She won’t take her medication unless someone’s there to give it to her.” She lifted her hands. “Basically, if Tom can show he’s hired a qualified caregiver, or lined up another place for her to go, he can sign her out, but not before.”

  “Doesn’t she qualify for disability of some kind? Or a state funding?”

  “Yes, but it’s not enough money. Tom and I took turns with her for a while—him during the day, me at night, but it wasn’t working very well. She still got out of the house a couple of times. She needs a professional. We had a guy coming for a while, but he only came for a few hours twice a week. I couldn’t work full-time and was falling behind on rent and bills. Then she got into trouble again, and I was talked into putting her in the hospital. It was supposed to be temporary, while I lined up something else, but she’s been in and out of there ever since.”

  “She gets out sometimes?”

  “Hardly anyone is permanently institutionalized anymore. She’s been released to an adult community program a few times—it’s kind of like a halfway house for addicts and the mentally ill—but it almost never lasts for long. She acts up or does something to herself and goes right back into the hospital. Recently, it seemed like she might actually be able to stay there, move on to the next step. She was in their program for almost three months, which is really long for her. She was doing better, taking her meds, actually making plans. Tom visits a lot, and he said it was like talking to her when she was younger, before…Anyway, she was volunteering some afternoons at the animal shelter and thinking about getting a job there. Then something happened. Tom didn’t give me any details, but she got sent back to the hospital two months ago.”