87
Chapter 88
1
The white Lexus was doing exactly one mile over the speed limit when it crossed the Louisiana state line.
It had started to rain just outside of Jackson, Mississippi—a steady downpour the wipers simply couldn’t keep up with. Visibility was impaired enough to force Sue to slow down to a crawl as she passed through the city.
Sue’s shoulders tensed as she watched the red taillights of the Jeep Cherokee in front of her. She had been driving almost nonstop for nearly two days now. The other girls on campus had been thinking about their exams, about what they’d do on their upcoming holiday breaks. But Sue’s mind had been on one thing and one thing only. Getting away. There had been no other choice.
She snapped on the radio, trying to relieve the tedium of the drive and the steady, pounding rain. “Have yourself a merry little Christmas,” a voice sang from the radio. “Let your heart be light…”
Christmas. It was almost Christmas. It didn’t feel that way to Sue, with the warm, muggy rain.
“From now on, our troubles will be out of sight…”
She was crying. She switched off the radio. She preferred the silence.
Sue glanced back in her rearview mirror. She wasn’t really sure who—or what—she was looking for. In the rain, she couldn’t see anything but headlights anyway. But somehow it made her feel better to look back every now and then. Her nerves, already shot, began to fray a little as she kept taking her foot off the gas pedal to avoid slamming into the car in front of her.
“Come on, come on,” Sue muttered under her breath, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. The wind and rain whipped against the side of the car with a long, screeching howl.
It seemed to take hours to get through Jackson, but once she did, the thick traffic began to disperse. Finally, she was able to start getting her speed back up. As soon as she clocked seventy-one, she clicked on the cruise control and removed her foot from the gas pedal with a sigh of relief. Her right hip was getting sore, and she shifted a little in her seat. Cars and trucks flew past her in the left lane, throwing up streams of water onto her windshield. No matter how tempting it was to speed up, she resisted the urge and kept relying on the cruise control. She couldn’t risk being pulled over.
It was just paranoia, she knew. Surely, there was no rural Southern sheriff watching for her. In all likelihood, there wasn’t anyone at all on the road looking for her. But better safe than sorry.
I just don’t know, Sue reminded herself, and until I do know, it’s better not to take any risks—and not to trust anyone. If I try to tell anyone—they’ll just think I’m crazy, and they’ll turn me over to Gran and Granpa. I can’t risk that.
A sob rose in her throat, but Sue fought it down. Don’t cry again, that’s a waste of energy. I have to focus. I have to keep my mind clear and not give in to emotion. I’m almost there. It’s only a few more hours at most, and then I can take a break, get some rest, and maybe find some hope…
But for how long could she afford to rest? Sooner or later, she knew, they’d come for her. They wouldn’t just let her get away.
She still had over five hundred dollars in cash in her purse, but there was no telling how long that would last. She was afraid to use her credit cards and her debit card. She’d paid cash at that horrible cheap motel just outside of Richmond, Virginia, where she’d grabbed a few hours of desperately needed sleep before hitting the road again. She couldn’t leave any electronic traces behind—that would make it too easy for them to find her. She’d left her cell phone back at her dorm room in upstate New York, buying a cheap disposable pay-as-you-go one at a Wal-Mart somewhere in northern Pennsylvania as she headed south. She’d worried about her license plates, wondering if there was a bulletin sent out with a description of her and her car—but if it came down to it, there was the gun in the compartment between the seats. She wasn’t sure if she would actually have the nerve to use it, but it was there in case she needed it.
I hope I don’t have to use it, she thought, glancing down at the armrest where it was hidden. But she would if she had to.
The highway was wet and the rhythmic sound of the water being thrown up by the wheels against the car made her even sleepier. She was exhausted. It had been almost sixteen hours since she checked out of that miserable motel and hit the road. Outside of stopping for gas and a quick run to the bathroom, she’d been driving—and her legs and back were stiff. She could feel knots of tension in her back, and her left elbow was sore from resting on the car door. Her eyes burned with fatigue, her throat was dry, her lips chapped. She’d kept the window cracked, hoping the rush of cold air from outside would keep her awake. She glanced at her watch. It was almost two.
It can’t be much further, she reasoned. On the map Hammond looks like it’s almost in Mississippi. She glanced at herself in the rearview mirror and grimaced. Worse than how she looked, she could smell herself and it wasn’t pleasant—she smelled like sour socks. Her feet were sweating in her shoes. And now her stomach was growling. She hadn’t eaten since seven in the morning, when she’d stopped at a Hardee’s somewhere in north Alabama. She’d managed to choke down some sort of fried egg on a dry biscuit, washing it down with numerous cups of coffee. All she’d wanted to do was just put her head down on the table and go to sleep right there. But she’d forced herself to get a refill to go, and kept driving.
Got to keep going, Sue told herself, repeating the litany like a catechism. Don’t know when they might come after me, don’t know how much time I have, got to get there before they figure out where I’ve gone, got to get there while it’s still safe—if it ever was safe there in the first place.
She allowed herself to smile when she saw the big sign with the fleur-de-lis in the center, reading WELCOME TO LOUISIANA and BIENVENUE EN LOUISIANE underneath. She thought about stopping at the welcome area, but there were too many cars and trucks parked all around, and a quick glance down at her gas gauge, inching ever closer to the red, convinced her to keep going. She decided to take the next exit with a gas station, fill up the tank, use the restroom, and get something to snack on, maybe another cup of coffee. Her stomach rebelled at the thought of more coffee—especially gas station coffee. Maybe a soda, she thought. I’m almost there, it can’t be more than another hour, maybe I can make myself stay awake till I get there without more coffee.
After crossing the state line, she took the next exit, pulling into a deserted Texaco station. It was a typical roadside gas station, two islands with numbered pumps, a little food store for snacks, and restrooms. Through the rain she could discern Christmas lights strung along the outside of the building, blinking red and green and yellow. Signs all over the glass front announced sales on beer, soda, and the availability of Louisiana lottery tickets. The jackpot for the next drawing was fifty-three million dollars.
A lot of good that would do me, Sue thought.
She noticed off to the side of the station a battered-looking Toyota was parked, with bumper stickers plastered all over the trunk and rear bumper: YOUR MOTHER WAS PRO-LIFE. GOD CREATED ADAM AND EVE NOT ADAM AND STEVE. JESUS DIED FOR YOUR SINS. SUPPORT THE TROOPS. A metal fish symbol was affixed to the lower trunk close to the bumper and next to the license plate, just below a huge yellow ribbon.
She felt an inexplicable surge of panic.
Get out of here, get back on the highway, stop at the next station, there’s
