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 jerkâbig drinker, big
"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 jerkâbig drinker, big
Similar Books
