Mingled with relief, though, was a sense of regret. Too bad she couldn’t have kept it, because a part of her really would have liked being rich, even with stolen money-dirty stolen money. Maybe she’d get extra points for getting rid of it, because that so went against the grain. Being virtuous was as big a pain in the ass as having the money had been.
But the money was gone now, taken care of, and she could move on to the next item on her list. She didn’t have a lot of cash, and she needed some, so it was time to use the jewelry Rafael had given her.
She got the phone book and started looking for a diamond broker. She could hock the jewelry but she would realize only a fraction of its worth, and the pawn shop would make a killing because she wasn’t interested in redeeming any of the pieces. She had to sell the jewelry, and she didn’t want to take the time to auction it off on eBay.
She’d settled on a course of action and she felt driven to complete it, to get to New York and set the plan into motion. It was time.
A week later, with money in her bank account-though not as much money as she’d hoped-and a newly issued bank credit card, she booked a flight to New York for the following day and set about putting the duplex in order, in case she never made it back.
She cleaned out the refrigerator, getting rid of all the perishable food in the house. If she didn’t come back, she didn’t want the landlord, in a month or so, opening the door to the overpowering stench of rotted food. She swept and mopped and neatened, and tried not to cry. The shabby secondhand furniture she’d bought to furnish the duplex wasn’t much to look at, and she didn’t own the place anyway, but the duplex was still her first real home. It was hers; she’d picked out everything in it, from the cheap cookware to the chenille bedspread. She’d bought the lamp in the living room at a yard sale, for five bucks, and the soft throw draped across the arm of the couch for a dollar at yet another yard sale. The scent of the air freshener was the scent she preferred, the soap was the soap she liked.
She packed all her clothes. She didn’t have much; every stitch she owned fit into two suitcases, and that included what makeup she’d bought, which wasn’t much. She had delighted in not wearing much makeup, in not having to care if anyone saw her less than perfectly dolled up and tricked out. The last remnants of permed curl had long since grown out of her hair, which she had let remain dark. She didn’t want to be blond again; Drea was blond; Andie had no-nonsense brown hair.
When the apartment was clean and her suitcases packed, she had two more errands to run. The first was to a large mall, where a wig shop was located. She would have to be Drea again, to get Rafael’s attention, but she wanted to be able to whip off a wig and quickly become someone he might walk past without recognizing.
There weren’t any wigs in the shop that matched the way she’d worn her hair then. She chose one that was close enough: a little longer, a little straighter, and the shade was more platinum than golden, but it would do.
Her final errand was more subterfuge, but of a different kind. Just in case Simon was still watching her, she went to the grocery store where she usually shopped, and stocked up on some nonperishable stuff. Buying food would reassure him that she intended to stay where she was. Also, if she actually got to return to the duplex, having food there would be a good thing.
The next morning, she drove to the airport, parked the Explorer in the long-term parking lot, and began her return to New York. Her seat, booked at the last minute as it had been, was a middle seat in the very last row. She sat crammed between a largish gentleman and his equally largish wife, who had evidently chosen their seats hoping no one would get the seat between them and they’d be able to spread out more comfortably. They were out of luck, and so was she.
After spending a little over three hours waiting for a connecting flight, it was mid-afternoon by the time she finally landed at La Guardia. She collected her luggage, rolled the cases out to the ground transportation area, and stood at the curb waiting for the hotel shuttle to arrive. The spring day was cold, about fifty degrees, and with the breeze the windchill was probably forty-five.
When the shuttle arrived, four more people got on it with her, but none of them seemed to be traveling together, so they all rode in silence toward the skyscrapers of Manhattan.
She loved the city, Andie thought as she watched the skyline getting closer. She loved the people and the busy pace, the sights and sounds and smells. Kansas City wasn’t a small town, by any means, but it wasn’t anywhere near the scale of New York. Maybe, if things worked out, she could move back here.
Or maybe not. She wouldn’t be able to get a high-paying job, and Manhattan was expensive. The money she had from the sale of the jewelry wouldn’t last long here. She had to be practical, because she had no particular skills or job training, and wanting more than what she could provide for herself was what had led her to men like Rafael in the first place. From now on, she would content herself with what she could afford.
She checked into the Holiday Inn, and when she was in her small, rather dingy room she hauled out the gargantuan phone book and began looking for a number. “United States Government,” she murmured, then found the group of listings and began running her finger down the column. When she got to the number she wanted, she kept her finger on it while, with her other hand, she turned on her cell phone and waited for it to find service. When it did, she punched in the number.
THERE SHE WAS. He’d found her. She’d finally turned on her cell phone.
Simon’s fingers flew over the keyboard of his laptop, typing in commands. He had relocated to San Francisco, and remained there longer than he’d ever been in any one place. Now that he wasn’t active in the business anymore, he had no need to keep moving around. He hadn’t exactly put down roots, but he’d modified his habits somewhat.
He had left Kansas City when he’d told Andie he was leaving. He didn’t want to crowd her; he’d given her a lot to think about, and she had some adjustments to make. He had kept track of her and been reassured when her movements seemed to be mostly routine, though it bothered him that she hadn’t gone back to Glenn’s. The fact that she hadn’t put him on alert, and he’d kept an unusually close watch on her movements.
His cell phone had buzzed before dawn, though he wasn’t immediately alarmed. Kansas City was in a different time zone, so it was well after dawn there. But he got up and tracked the Explorer, and when its movement stopped at the airport he’d broken out in a cold sweat. She was getting on a damn plane, and he was a thousand miles away, unable to do a fucking thing about it.
He hadn’t hacked into any system in months, hadn’t needed to. He didn’t know which airline she’d used, which hampered him, but he began systematically searching them all, just in case she either hadn’t taken her cell phone with her or didn’t bother turning it on until she needed to use it.
When the locator in the phone was powered up, he immediately typed in the commands that would tell him exactly where she was, and when the map popped up on the screen he felt icy sweat pop out on his skin.
She was in New York.
30
THE NEXT MORNING, ANDIE WORKED HER WAY THROUGH all the barricades and security checks at Federal Plaza. She was given a visitor’s ID and an escort, shown where to wait, and eventually she went into a small office. Special Agent Rick Cotton got to his feet when she entered, shaking the hand she held out. He had a nice firm handshake, not too tight and not wimpy, but at first glance she didn’t see what was so special about him.