Limp with relief, Drea fell back across the bed, clutching the BlackBerry to her chest. She looked at the amount again, and began laughing. It was there, and it was all hers, every last penny of it.
And she was going to be late for her appointment at the salon if she didn’t hurry. She bounced off the bed, called a taxi, and left the room key and a couple of dollars on the bedside table before going out to wait for her ride.
Things went downhill when she got to the bank and began closing out her account. After providing her identification, and information for the paperwork, she asked for the hundred thousand in cash. The account manager, a middle-aged woman with wine-red hair, stopped what she was doing and stared over the desk at Drea. She looked perturbed. “I don’t know if we can do that, at least not for the full amount,” she said apologetically. “Usually we give customers a cashier’s check when they close out accounts. Obviously we don’t keep a huge cash reserve here. If you’d given us some warning we could have had additional funds on hand, but…let me talk to the bank manager. I’ll see what we can do.”
Drea bit back the stinging remark she’d been about to make. A bank didn’t keep a lot of cash on hand? What the hell kind of bank didn’t have cash? Antagonizing the woman wouldn’t help, though, would probably even prevent her from walking out with any cash at all, so instead she said, “I’m sorry. Everything happened so fast…I wasn’t thinking.”
She didn’t specify what had happened so fast, but her apology seemed to work because the woman said, “Maybe we can work something out. I’ll be right back.”
As the woman disappeared into another office, Drea thought furiously. What good would a cashier’s check for a hundred thousand do her? All she could do with it was open another account. She needed cash, untraceable cash.
Glancing at her watch, she saw that time was getting short if she intended to make her salon appointment. She could skip the appointment, get her hair cut farther on down the road, but she’d like to change her appearance before she bought a car. Maybe if she gave the bank some time, and came back after her salon appointment, she could get more cash, but that would mean the account manager would know how she’d changed her hair, which would make it easier for Rafael to trace her.
This wasn’t working. She’d have to adjust her plan. Okay, so she’d give the bank more time to get the cash together, maybe even another day-God, what kind of risk would she be running by staying in Elizabeth another day?
An unacceptable risk, she decided. She needed to leave today.
She didn’t have a lot of cash left, though, so she’d have to get some money right now. She didn’t have to have the entire hundred thousand in cash; twenty thousand would do, and the rest in a cashier’s check. Ten thousand would buy a car reliable enough to get her to Kansas, the remaining ten would be plenty to pay for motel rooms and food. How long would it take her to get to Kansas, anyway? Two days? Three? She’d have plenty of cash to spare.
The account manager came out of the office, her brow furrowed in a way that told Drea there was no way she could get the entire hundred thou in cash. “I’m sorry,” she began, but Drea shook her head.
“It’s all right. How about twenty thousand in cash, or even fifteen, and the remainder in a cashier’s check. That would be plenty. I don’t know what I was thinking; I sure don’t want to be traveling with that much cash.”
The woman’s expression cleared. “I know we can do fifteen in cash, but let me see about twenty-”
Time was getting too short. “I’ve taken up too much of your time,” Drea said. “Fifteen would be great.”
“Are you sure? It won’t take a minute to check-”
“Thank you, but don’t go to the trouble.”
Finally she had her fifteen thousand in cash, one hundred and fifty hundred-dollar bills, and a cashier’s check for the remainder. The cash was surprisingly bulky, which made her glad she hadn’t been able to get the entire amount in cash. She’d have had to buy a small suitcase just to hold the money, which would be a tad conspicuous. At least the fifteen thousand would fit in her bag.
She had to sign a couple of forms, then at last the transaction was finished. “Thank you so much,” she said, then looked at her watch and hurried from the bank.
She was almost twenty minutes late getting to the salon, and the stylist was in a pissy mood because of it, but he cheered up when she indicated her mass of long corkscrew curls and said, “Cut it off, and I want to go smoother and darker.” Like most stylists, he loved cutting long hair and going for a drastic change.
An hour and a half later, she walked out of the salon a brunette, her hair in a shaggy cut that was a little spiky on top. It looked sharp as hell, and she loved it. Her entire face looked different, stronger, the bone structure more evident. She wasn’t Drea Rousseau now, she was someone else, a woman who didn’t take any crap from anyone.
She’d have to think of a new name, a name that would fit her new self. Somewhere along the line she’d have to get a new driver’s license, but she’d worry about that later. Right now, she needed wheels.
A little over five hours later, she crossed into Pennsylvania, heading west. Her car was a maroon Camry, a little the worse for wear with some rust eating at the metal and a collection of dents and dings on the fenders, but the tires were good and the engine ran okay.
Soon, she thought, she’d be driving a Cadillac. Or maybe a Mercedes. In a couple of days she’d be in Kansas, and from there, who knew? She could pick anywhere she wanted, and Rafael Salinas could kiss her ass.
9
RAFAEL ALMOST DIDN’T TAKE THE CALL WHEN HE SAW IT was from his bank. He’d been awake all night, fueled by coffee and anxiety, but hour after hour had passed with no word from whoever had taken Drea and he’d lost whatever faint hope he’d had, which had never been much, that she might somehow be ransomed or exchanged.
“ Salinas,” he said curtly. “What is it?”
“Mr. Salinas, this is Manuel Flores, with-”
“Yeah, I know who you’re with, I saw the Caller ID.” He just wanted the guy to get to the point and get off the phone. He didn’t have the patience today to deal with penny-ante shit, not when he knew Drea was probably dead somewhere and he couldn’t even grieve without looking like a pussy in front of his men.
“Ah…yes, well. The bank did send an e-mail yesterday alerting you to the transfer that was made, but I wanted to follow up and-”
“Transfer?” Rafael was exhausted, but not so exhausted his attention wasn’t caught. He sat up straight and snapped his fingers at Orlando, pointing to the phone and then his bedroom. “What transfer?”
Orlando strode into the bedroom and a second later there was a click as he picked up on the call.
“Ah…the transfer of funds from your account into Ms. Butts’s account. The, ah, account that was listed as Drea Rousseau.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Like he didn’t know Drea’s real name? He didn’t have a problem with her using Rousseau as her last name instead of Butts. Hell, who would? He sure as hell hadn’t wanted to introduce her as Drea Butts. “I didn’t make any transfer yesterday.”
A distinctly worried note entered Flores ’s voice. “A sizable transfer was made yesterday afternoon, and even though the transfer was verified as coming from your IP address, with your password, the amount was unusual so as a matter of policy an e-mail notification was generated alerting you to this transaction. Then, this morning, when I became aware that all of the funds were transferred from Ms. Butts’s account late yesterday afternoon, I thought a personal phone call was in order-”
“I didn’t transfer anything into her account yesterday!” Rafael bellowed, getting up and walking into his bedroom where Orlando was already sitting in front of Rafael’s laptop, checking his e-mail account. With everything going on yesterday, Rafael hadn’t bothered with crap like that.