“Yeah,” he said. The shirt on his arm was completely soaked in red. “Just some quick work and some stitches. Maybe even get a hot nurse. Who knows.”
“Good luck, Mike.” I tapped the door.
“That fucker came from nowhere,” he said. “Swear to God I swept the house.”
I nodded. “You need to get to the hospital.”
“Yeah.” He put the car in gear.
“Mike,” I said, “once the truth comes out, it’ll be alright.”
“Yeah. The right truth. We just need the right truths to come out, not the wrong ones. I better never see your ass again.”
The right truths. Not the wrong ones. Because even truth isn’t absolute.
I waved with two fingers, and he was gone.
59
I drove through the night, and the better part of the next day as well. I ditched my jacket and jeans and changed clothes to get rid of the blood splatters. I went east, because east was all I knew. I stopped in a motel outside of Indianapolis and slept for six hours, then continued on.
There was no hope of me reclaiming the life I’d left, nor did I want to. But the only sensible place to drive was home. I would not contact my old buddies, or my parents. I would remain isolated, at least for a time. Once things died down, once the world stopped spinning, I would make decisions again. But in the near future, I would just exist. There was cash and a credit card in my wallet. I could exist.
I traded my Explorer in for a beat up Honda Accord somewhere near Dayton, Ohio. I didn’t need the four-wheel drive anymore.
I was worried about Raphino. Worried about the repercussions he’d face from what we’d done. A warrantless home entry and two bodies. Even the best case was probably a lengthy suspension, and a black mark on the record. Loss of badge, even. Beyond that, I didn’t let myself think.
I’d keep an eye on the news, for surely there would be something. I would watch for the fate of my friend Michael Raphino. He was a good man. I hoped he could say the same about me.
I put thousands of miles behind me, and washed myself clean twice a day.
60
At a busy coffee shop in a train station somewhere just south of the Canadian border, Adeline sipped an espresso and read a magazine. She wore large, round sunglasses and a floppy sun hat. In her purse was a forged passport with the name Darlene Gor, a small switchblade knife, three credit cards registered to Ms. Gor, and fifty thousand dollars cash. It was springtime.
She had stopped looking over her shoulder a day ago. She was still cautious, and would be for some time, but the ominous worry that she was being followed had begun to fade. She could smile about things now, like she used to. She would have no problem crossing the border. At this point it was a formality.
These things put Adeline at ease. She had always been aware this might be necessary; it was part of the business. For now, she was just happy for a clean break. She would miss Colorado, but she would adapt to her new home. She did not miss Vince. The sun was shining through the windows of the café now, and the trouble seemed behind her.
A thin woman with larger sunglasses and a larger hat entered the café and approached the counter. Adeline didn’t notice. The woman ordered a black coffee and paid cash. She took a single drink, smiled at the barista, and slipped across the coffee shop to the table at which Adeline sat. Still, she was unnoticed. She set down her coffee, and sat down at the table.
“Hello,” she said cheerfully.
Adeline looked up from her magazine. Both women were silent as the café buzzed around them. Neither removed their glasses.
She recognized her immediately. Even through everything that was different—the shorter hair, the sensible clothing, the smile—she knew it was her. There was an unmistakable energy that followed her. And now, a sinking feeling.
“Adeline,” the woman said, still smiling. “How have you been?”
“I’m sorry,” Adeline said, “you must have me confused with someone else.” There was panic in her voice.
“That’s interesting,” Suzanne said. “You’re a spitting image of my friend Adeline.”
“What a coincidence,” Adeline said, and tried to go back to her magazine.
Suzanne reached over and put a hand on her arm. Adeline jumped.
“Understand I didn’t come here with the intention of hurting you,” Suzanne said quietly. “But if you don’t at least listen to me and cut the bullshit, Addie, those intentions will change. I know threats aren’t becoming of a debutante, but I’m afraid I’ve earned it, wouldn’t you say?” She pulled her hand back and smiled again.
“I have a gun,” Adeline said quietly. “In my purse.” It was a lie; it was a knife.
“And I applaud you for that. A woman should have protection traveling alone these days. Sad state of affairs if you ask me, but we’re pragmatists, aren’t we?”
“I’ll use it. Don’t think I won’t.”
Suzanne removed her sunglasses with one hand. “Addie. I’m afraid you’ve got it wrong.”
Beneath the table, with her one hand that had been hidden since she sat, she tapped the inside of Adeline’s knee with the short barrel of a revolver. She smiled when she did it.
“You know I wouldn’t come all the way up here without protection myself, don’t you? How do you think I’ve survived the last eight months?”
Adeline said nothing.
“So, to recap: your time for giving orders is over. I’m in charge now. Are we clear?”
Adeline said nothing.
“Are we clear?” Suzanne repeated.
“What do you want?”
Suzanne nodded. “Just what’s in the purse. I know how you travel.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
Suzanne again tapped her knee with the revolver. “My patience is wearing thin, Addie. I’m getting that purse. How it happens is up to you.”
Adeline looked at the table. Her pride would hardly allow her to be defeated by a former underling, someone she’d discarded and then pitied. But a gun between the legs has a way of suspending pride.
She slid the purse across the table.
Suzanne nodded. “That’s my girl. But I don’t need the whole thing. You can keep the passport, under whatever bogus name you’re going by.”
Adeline eyed her.
Suzanne motioned with her hand. “Go ahead.”
Adeline slowly reached into the purse. She felt the knife and considered it, but it wouldn’t do her any good. She found the passport and lifted it out.
“Good,” Suzanne said. “And one of the credit cards. I’m not an animal, after all.” She motioned again.
Adeline found her wallet and took out a single credit card.
“The VISA,” Suzanne said. “Good choice.”
The women looked at each other from across the table. The gun didn’t move. Patrons moved and buzzed around them, oblivious to the conversation happening at the table.
“Now,” Suzanne said, “here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to take this purse, and I’m going to leave. And you’re going to get on that train and escape to wherever it is you are escaping. Nothing changes, except you’re a few dollars lighter. And when you get to where you’re going, and join whatever new cult it is you join, and fuck the boss and whatever else, then you’re just going to stay where you are. You aren’t going come looking for me—you aren’t even going to think of me. I died in the mountains, like you wanted.”
Adeline said nothing.
“And in turn, I won’t come looking for you. You have my word. And Addie, this is a deal you should take. Remember I found you here. Remember that when you get back on your feet—or, in your case, your back—and time starts to cloud your sense of judgment. Remember that when your ego starts to creep in, and you start thinking about what happened today. Remember that I found you here, and I can do it again.”