Alice nods. ‘That’s good. It covers everything.’
‘Which doesn’t mean he’ll believe it. Stories are one thing, seeing is another. What he saw was a middle-aged fat man with a banged-up underage girl.’
Alice draws herself up, looking offended. Under other circumstances it might have been funny. ‘I’m twenty-one! A legal adult!’
‘Do you get carded in bars?’
‘Well …’
Billy nods, case closed.
‘Maybe,’ Alice says, ‘if you really mean to … well … confront Tripp, we shouldn’t wait until tomorrow. Maybe we should go right now.’
4
He stares at her, simultaneously believing that pronoun and not believing it. And what’s worse, she’s looking at him like it’s a foregone conclusion.
‘Holy shit,’ Billy says. ‘You really do have Stockholm Syndrome.’
‘I don’t because I’m not a hostage. I could have walked out anytime from the Jensens’ apartment, as long as I was quiet on the stairs. You would never have noticed because you’d’ve been all wrapped up in your writing.’
Probably true, Billy thinks. And furthermore—
Alice says it for him. ‘If I was going to run away, I could have done it the first time you went out. For the morning-after pill.’ She pauses, then adds, ‘Plus I gave him a false name.’
‘Because you were scared.’
Alice shakes her head vehemently. ‘You were in the other room. I could have whispered that you were William Summers, who killed that man at the courthouse. We would have been upstairs and in his car before you finished putting on that.’ She pokes him in the fake belly.
‘You can’t go with me. It’s nuts.’
Still, the idea is starting to seep down, like water in dry earth. She can’t go with him all the way to Vegas, but if they can work out a story that protects the Dalton Smith identity, which is now in dire peril, then maybe …
‘Maybe you could go by yourself if you leave Tripp and his friends alone. Because if anything happens to them, they’d connect it to me. Tripp and his friends, I mean. They wouldn’t want to go to the police, but they might decide to hurt me.’
Billy has to hide a smile. She is playing him, and doing a good job of it on short notice. This is quite a change from the puking semiconscious girl he fished out of the rain, the one who sometimes has panic attacks in the night. Billy thinks it’s a change for the better. Plus, she’s right – anything he does to those three they would connect to her. Assuming, that is, she’s the only woman they date-raped last week, which seems likely.
‘Yes,’ Alice says, watching him from under her eyebrows and still playing him for all she’s worth. ‘I guess you better leave them unpunished.’ Then she asks him what he’s smiling about.
‘Nothing. Just that I like you. My friend Taco would have said you’ve got some gimme to you.’
‘I don’t know what that means.’
‘It doesn’t matter. But yeah, those guys need a payback for what they did. I need to think about this.’
Alice says, ‘Can I help you pack while you think?’
5
It’s Billy who does the packing. It doesn’t take long. There’s no room for her new clothes in his suitcase, but he finds a plastic Barnes & Noble bag, the kind with handles, on the top shelf of the bedroom closet and dumps her stuff into that. He carries the AllTechs out to the Fusion in a stack.
While he does that, Alice goes through the Jensens’ apartment with a dish towel and a spray bottle of Lysol and water, wiping down surfaces. She pays special attention to the TV remote, which they’ve both used, and doesn’t neglect the light switches. When she goes downstairs, Billy helps her wipe down the basement apartment, paying particular attention to the bathroom: fixtures, shower head, mirror, the toilet’s flush handle. It takes them about an hour.
‘I think we’re done,’ she says.
‘What about the key to the Jensens’ apartment?’
‘Oh glory,’ she says. ‘I’ve still got it. I’ll wipe it down and … what? Slip it under the door?’
‘I’ll do it.’ He does, but goes in first to get Don Jensen’s Ruger. He sticks it in his belt, beneath the pregnancy belly. The XL sweatshirt covers it. The revolver is a pricey item, five or six hundred dollars, and Billy doesn’t have that much cash. He leaves two fifties and a C-note on the nightstand, along with a quick scribble that says Took your gun. Will send the balance when I can. More like if he can. Meanwhile, what about Daphne and Walter? Will they die of thirst on their windowsill? Romeo and Juliet of the plant world? Stupid to even wonder, given everything else he has to worry about.
It’s because Bev gave them names, he thinks. He treats each to one final spray for good luck. Then he touches his back pocket, where Shan’s flamingo drawing is folded up and stowed away.
Back downstairs, he takes Alice’s phone out of his hip pocket and holds it out to her. He’s replaced the SIM card.
She takes it with an accusing look. ‘It wasn’t lost. You had it all along.’
‘Because I didn’t trust you.’
‘And now you do?’
‘Now I do. And at some point you need to call your mother. Otherwise she’s going to get worried.’
‘I suppose she would,’ Alice says. Then, with a trace of bitterness: ‘After a month or so.’ She sighs. ‘Okay, and tell her what? I made a friend, we bonded over chicken noodle soup and The Blacklist?’
Billy considers, but comes up empty.
Alice, meanwhile, breaks into a smile. ‘You know what, I’m going to tell her I quit school. She’ll believe that. And I’m going to Cancun with some friends. She’ll believe that, too.’
‘Will she really?’
‘Yes.’
Billy thinks there’s a whole mother–daughter relationship in that single word, complete with tears, recriminations, and slammed doors. ‘You need to work on that a little,’ he says. ‘Right now it’s time to go.’
6
There are two Sherwood Heights exits off the Interstate, both with clusters of fast-food restaurants, gas-em-up quick-stops, and motels. Billy tells Alice to look for a motel that isn’t part of a chain. While she’s busy checking out the signs, he slips the Ruger out of his belt and stows it under the seat. At the second exit she points out the Penny Pines Motel and asks what he thinks. Billy says it looks good. Using one of his Dalton Smith credit cards, he gets them a pair of adjoining rooms. Alice waits in the car, making Billy think of that old song by the Amazing Rhythm Aces, ‘Third Rate Romance.’
They bring in their stuff. He takes the Mac Pro out of the carrybag, puts it on the room’s single table (shaky and needing a shim under one leg), re-zips the bag, and slings it over his shoulder.
‘What do you need that for?’
‘Supplies. I need to do some shopping. And it’s got a good look. Professional. What’s your phone number?’
She gives it to him and he puts it into his contacts.
‘Do you have an address for the condo where these guys live?’ It’s a question he should have asked before, but they’ve been a little busy.
‘I don’t know the number, but it’s Landview Estates, on Route 10. It’s the last stop the bus makes before it gets to the airport and turns around.’ Alice takes him by the sleeve and leads him to the window. She points. ‘Pretty sure that’s Landview Estates, those three on the left. Tripp lives – they live – in building C.’
‘Third floor.’
‘That’s right. I don’t remember the apartment number, but it’s the one at the end of the hall. You have to push a code to get in the front door, and I didn’t see what he put in. It didn’t seem important at the time.’
‘I’ll get in.’ Billy hopes he’s right about that. His expertise is guns, not entering buildings with security doors.