***
I drove to the first gas station I saw. That was probably stupid considering it was maybe five blocks from my house. I bought a pack of cigarettes. The clerk kept staring at me suspiciously and I looked down, almost expecting to see blood on my hands and clothing. What I saw instead was a pale woman dressed from head to toe in black and covered in leaves and dirt. Well, at least it wasn’t blood, I comforted myself as I crossed the parking lot and dropped shakily back into the driver’s seat. A second later, I sat up straight and froze as a strange chhhh sound filled the car’s silent interior and a small wet patch spread across my left buttcheek. No. Effing. Way. I shifted in the seat, grimacing at the chemical smell that was now weaving through the car. Just as quickly, I leaped back out, twisting around in a horrified attempt at seeing my own butt. Cautiously, I pulled the slim can of pepper spray from my now-damp back pocket and eyed the tube in disbelief. “How does that even happen?”
Cursing, I yanked the long-sleeved t-shirt over my head, pulling harder when it tangled with my hair. Folding the shirt, I tossed it onto the front seat of the car before climbing behind the wheel again, rolling both front windows down, and backing out onto the street. Leaving the harsh, bright lights of the parking lot far behind, I hit the highway and headed toward the airport.
I chain smoked for the better part of two hours as I drove. The skin on my ass was barely stinging at all now, and if it hadn’t been for the headache and the nausea that were creeping in, I would have continued to smoke. But I knew I couldn’t vomit and drive at the same time, so I tossed the pack and the lighter into the backseat—just in case I was tempted again. Smoking was not a part of my normal daily routine. I was what my sister referred to as ‘one lucky bitch.’ When I wanted a cigarette, I bought a pack. Usually one would do, and I would end up tossing the pack a year later when I found it during a cleaning jag. Megan had been through three different programs over a four-year period in order to kick the habit.
Smoking and drinking just weren’t things that I normally thought about. I had seen enough people trying to quit, though, and I realized how rare and fortunate I was to have never succumbed to the addiction. Tonight, though…if there was ever a time for it, this was probably it. My hands tightened on the wheel until my fingers ached; my gaze remained fixed straight ahead.
I should have been tired, but I was too wired to even think about sleep. Besides that, it would take me another three hours to reach the airport I was speeding toward. There were closer ones, but this was the only one that had the flight I needed without a billion transfers. There would be only one. This airport also had the soonest departure time. It would be close, but my flight left in five hours. That gave me time to park, walk, walk some more, and buy my ticket. If my lucky streak holds, I might even be able to eat something a little more substantial than a gas station hotdog and a Payday bar, I thought with a sigh. You can only forget about food for so long. Not that it was usually a problem for me. It took a lot to disrupt my rhythm.
I zoned out for the next half hour, listening to the background noise of the car radio…some radio show I had never heard before where people were calling in to talk about their problems and request a song. I didn’t pay much attention to the songs, but there’s something perversely comforting about listening to the troubles of other people. True, most of them were about their love lives. But I think that made it better, somehow. All I could think was that I had probably killed two people in my backyard. The scene kept playing like a loop in my mind as I sped along the black pavement. It was like being locked in a dark room with my private thoughts and trying in vain to outrun them. Self defense or not, I didn’t think I would soon forget what it felt like to viciously attack another human being. Damn, why did I throw that pack of cigarettes so far back?
When my purse rang at dawn a little while later, I jumped. My legs were cramped, my butt was asleep, and I was pretty sure that I still had to pee. I really did not want to talk to anyone at the moment. But what if it was Megan, or my parents? I kept one hand on the wheel and fished around inside my purse with the other. I didn’t recognize the number but what the hell, I already had the thing out.
“Hello?”
“Claire.”
“Hello, John. I’d say it’s nice to hear from you, but it would be complete bullshit. What the hell do you want?” What I wanted was to beat the crap out of him, but I kept that to myself for the moment.
“Is that—?”
“You know,” I burst out, talking over him, “I have had the most fascinating three days, John. In fact, let me tell you—I have been followed, my house was taken over by thugs, and—here comes the best part—I was even attacked by not one, but two men holding me at gun point tonight. You know anything about that, Mr. Hanlen?” You worm, I added to myself, gritting my teeth.
“Yes, about that…very impressive, dear. Those men you took out back there were no green rookies. Of course, it was completely unnecessary, love. I would have been there myself to speak with you, but unfortunately, an urgent matter, a family emergency, took me away. I left some friends of mine to look over your house in my absence and wait for you to come home.”
“So it really was all because of you, you fucking worm.” There, I said it.
“Now, there’s no need to be angry. You must listen to me. I can’t say much over the phone—it’s not a secure connection, you understand. But you are in danger, Claire. You have to turn around and get back here immediately. You’ll need to be taken to a safe place, and that’s all I can say. Someone else is looking for your brother’s documents. I’ve been to his apartment and his computer is gone. Windows were smashed. You are not safe out there alone…let me help you. Come to the lab and I’ll tell you everything, make sure you’re safe…for Megan. Let me do this for you, Claire. Please.”
A cigarette seemed like a really good idea. There were so many flaws in his argument that I didn’t know where to begin. I swerved to the shoulder, enjoying the sound of loose gravel spinning beneath the tires. Very satisfying, I thought as I climbed into my backseat to retrieve my nicotine. I took a long drag before answering.
“Claire?”
“First off,” I exhaled, “You never gave a damn about Megan, so let’s forget the sentimental crap, okay? The only danger I’m in is from you. So unless you want to end up like your friends back there, I suggest you leave me alone.”
“Yes, you’ll be happy to know that Carl is going to be just fine—in time.”
“Great.” I managed to snort, even though my heart began to drum even harder. I hadn’t killed him, then… Relief surged, unbidden, and my fingers dug into the hard plastic case on my phone. “Which jackass would that be?”
“The one you shot at. Now, please, be reasonable. They were only there to protect you.”
“You keep talking, John, like you think anything you say matters to me at this point,” I snapped, injecting a flippant note into my voice. Now was not the time to go all sentimental; I couldn’t afford to care. The old Claire…she would care very much that she hadn’t just killed someone. The new Claire was scrambling to survive another day. She didn’t give a damn about a hired gun who would have killed her if she hadn’t gotten off the first shot. And it had been through sheer luck that I’d gotten off the first shot… Chill bumps raced along arms left bare by my black tank top, and absently I hunted for the long-sleeved top I’d discarded earlier.
“Now listen—”
“No, you listen…before my brother disappeared, he left me a going away present.” John was silent now. Nervous, I thought, and smiled.
“It would seem you’ve been very busy, John. But I’m telling you now, if you so much as come near me or my family, you’re going to pay and pay dearly.” I hoped that what was in the box was good and I wasn’t just blowing smoke. I had not had time to break the lock and read it. But a fabulous idea was beginning to take shape.
“How much time do you think you would get?”
“How dare you—”
“The box I took tonight from my house is in a safe place. The contents of that box have been duplicated and are now with three different attorneys. They have been given explicit instructions to share the box with the police and make it public if I don’t return for it in three months. Be afraid, John.”
I clicked the off button on the cell phone and slammed it shut. That was the one thing I hated about cell phones; they just didn’t slam hard enough to be satisfying. I rolled down the window and whipped the phone as hard as I could at the concrete median wall of the freeway. There. That was much better.
I was feeling extremely proud of myself as I pulled back into the increasing traffic on the road. I had held my own. More than that—I had managed to intimidate him. The thought gave me great pleasure. Of course, it was always a great day when I could torment my sister’s ex-husband. That’s just the way things work. You know—the normal order of things.
But as quickly as the answers had come to me while I was threatening John, I had still been bluffing. I had no idea what was in the box. Hell, it was still equipped with the built in button punch lock across the front. I had briefly turned the box over, inspecting it from all angles by using the car’s overhead lights, but of course, it had no secrets to tell. Not the kind that were possibly etched into the bottom anyway. Although I knew my brother well enough to know he would never have scratched the combination onto the box. A hysterical little laugh bubbled at the thought. Well, maybe he meant for me to go with plan A and break the lock off the box.
I shrugged, steering the car onto my exit ramp. Precious little time could be allotted to mess with the box at all—one look at the clock confirmed this. In fact, there was barely enough time to find an attorney who was willing to see me immediately with zip for notice. And even if I did find one and get in and out in record time, there was still the matter of navigating the airport and securing a ticket. I would have to use my credit card, of course, but that didn’t matter, since my passport would have to be used as well. Fortunately, it was an item I carried in my wallet. This was more out of pure laziness than any actual forethought. Most people kept such important documents safely tucked away after their travels; then again, most people I knew bothered to unpack.
My mind automatically strayed to what I would do once I was actually in Africa. It was imperative to be fast and virtually disappear as soon as I landed in the country. But, no, don’t think about it, I reminded myself; not when there was so much to do, and not when time was of the essence. I couldn’t afford to slow myself down with doubt—or a headache—and for this reason was glad my cigarettes were gone.
I pulled into town and onto the main strip before realizing my mistake. It was six o’clock in the morning. The streets were still dark. “Damn!” I yelled and slammed my hands against the steering wheel. The box wouldn’t do me any good if someone found it on me and killed me, or just took it; in which case they would probably follow up by killing me. I chewed on my fingernail again and struggled to think.
Waiting for an attorney was one option. Not a good one, but an option still. I stopped in front of a law office building and hopped out of the car. Peering into the windows, I finally sighed and rested my head against the cool glass. Empty. Not even a janitor or a security guard. Even if there had been anyone inside the building, the chance of them letting me in was doubtful at best. I looked down at my worse-for-wear and rumpled black outfit—maybe impossible was a better word to use. They probably would have called the cops…
It was at that moment that I had what I considered to be one of the best ideas of my life.