You Can't Catch Me

by Catherine McKenzie

  I thought that we were making progress. I thought we were past the worst of it.

  I was wrong.

  “What the fuck was that back there?” I ask Jessie once we’re in my rented Jeep, heading back to the campsite. I’m driving. JJ’s next to me, and Jessie’s in the back seat.

  “I could ask you the same,” Jessie says.

  “Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” JJ says.

  I turn onto the highway toward the campground. There’s a steady flow of traffic ahead, though a continuous stream of cars is peeling off the road onto one of the turnouts where you can get great shots of the Tetons.

  “She didn’t show,” I say to JJ.

  “That’s not true,” Jessie says. “She was there. But Jess screwed everything up.”

  “I did not.”

  “You didn’t stick to the plan.”

  “Neither did you.”

  “Pull the fucking car over,” JJ commands.

  She means business, and I do what she asks at the next pullout. We’re not alone, but the occupants of the other cars are too busy with their camera phones to take any notice of us.

  JJ climbs out of the Jeep. We follow suit. She stands in front of us.

  “Okay, spill.”

  She’s looking at me, so I start. “I was in position, like we agreed. Five came in and sat down. There was a woman talking to her. I thought it might be Jessica Two.”

  “Why?”

  “Right age, right build. But I wasn’t sure. There wasn’t any way for me to get close to them without potential Jessica Two spotting me. So, I decided to try and flush her out. Use a page from her own book.”

  “That wasn’t the plan,” Jessie says.

  “What did you do?” JJ asks.

  “I got them to page Jessica Williams.”

  “And you figured, what?” Jessie says. “That she’d be stupid enough to fall for that? She’s not an idiot.”

  “I know that. But I had to think fast. I thought that she’d at least react if that name was called, and then I’d know it was her for sure.”

  “But she didn’t, did she? And then you blew your cover by going up to the counter with Five.”

  “That’s right. And then you showed up.”

  Jessie looks across the road. There’s a bison ambling slowly along the fence line. A car stops suddenly with a screech of tires, and the car behind it almost hits it.

  “Bison jam,” I say.

  “What?”

  “Never mind. What were you doing in the airport?” I ask Jessie.

  “I went in to use the bathroom.”

  I look at JJ. She nods.

  “When I was in there, I got your text saying you thought she might be there.”

  “And?”

  “Then I heard our name being called on the PA. I assumed it was Jessica Two who did it, so I bought a ticket to Salt Lake City so I could get through security.”

  “Just like that?”

  She grits her teeth. “I thought you might need help.”

  “Well, I didn’t.”

  “So, now what?” JJ says.

  “She’s here,” Jessie says. “Jessica Two is here.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Show her the text,” I say to Jessie.

  Jessie takes out her phone and gives it to JJ.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this back at the airport?”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

  “Of course it might’ve mattered. She was there. She was right there.”

  “She wouldn’t have sent that text if she was findable,” Jessie says. “She probably sent it from the plane.”

  “What plane?”

  “The flight that Five’s on,” Jessie says. “I bet she’s on it.”

  “Fuck,” JJ says. “We have to warn her.”

  “We told Five about Jessica Two,” I say. “She knows to be on the lookout.”

  “That’s not sufficient,” JJ says. “Goddammit, we are so fucking dumb. We teed her up for Jessica, and now we’re here and they’re going to be in New York for the weekend together.”

  “It’s not like she’s actually rich, though.”

  “She’s not a pauper. Jessica will take her for whatever she can. Just to punish us. Just to show us she can.”

  “What can we do about it?”

  “You could ask Liam for help,” JJ says. “That’s his name, right?”

  “That’s his name,” Jessie says.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She doesn’t say anything, just watches the line of cars that has piled up to get a photo of the bison, who’s chewing, unconcerned, on the side of the road.

  “Jessie?”

  “Just call him.”

  “And say what?”

  She turns toward me. “Why are you asking me? He’s your boyfriend.”

  Chapter 27

  Aha

  The lawsuit was the beginning of the end. Or the beginning of the beginning. I might write other people’s stories for a living, but I have trouble with figuring out where to start, and where to end too. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about this one, and that lawsuit was definitely the start of something.

  And the end of Kiki.

  I don’t blame the people who suggested bringing it, or those in the Not in Todd Anymore Facebook group who jumped on it. When we learned how much money Todd had accumulated, it was the natural thing to do. That was our families’ money. My parents’ and Kiki’s parents’ and Covington’s. All of us, those who escaped, and the ones who never wanted to leave but were forced to when Todd died, and everything fell apart. We didn’t have the lives we were supposed to, the version we would’ve had if Todd had never existed. And though money doesn’t solve anything, it can feel like it does. If you don’t have to worry about where your next meal is coming from, or how you’re going to pay for school, that’s one less thing to weigh you down.

  So, I was all for it. We all were.

  Todd’s family caved pretty quickly. His real relatives he’d disowned in life but who were the ones who got it all after his death. The many millions of ill-gotten gain, mostly invested in the market in blue-chip stocks. All the companies that Todd had railed against, that he’d told us we’d be taking down when the day came, they were the backbone of Todd’s wealth. I think that was the actual final nail in the coffin for the LOT; the rank hypocrisy finally penetrating through to even the diehards.

  Nothing went to the adults who’d chosen to live with Todd. Everything went to the kids in equal portions, right down to the smallest one, the girl who was with my parents at the funeral. There was one helluva party, but then we pulled apart. We’d won, achieved our purpose, and now we could move on. Only, someone should’ve done some research. Looked at the data on lottery winners, for instance, who often end up bankrupt, addicted, or right back where they started only a few years later. We were no different from the statistics. Some of us were prudent. I paid off my student loans and socked the rest of it away for a rainy day. Others bought a boat and sailed around the world, skipping from beach town to beach town as their livers slowly disintegrated under the constant pressure of cheap liquor and sugary mixers. Et cetera.

  And Kiki. Kiki used her money to educate herself. Her plan was to become a teacher. But that’s not how it turned out. And when it all fell apart, she didn’t have the tools to cope. My John Hughes–inspired education wasn’t a substitute for the real help I should’ve found her. The therapy Liam helped others get, which I’d always turned down because I thought I didn’t need it.

  She sank.

  And sank.

  And it wasn’t until she turned up dead that I even knew she was drowning.

  I tell Jessie and JJ that I’ll call Liam once we’re back at camp. I don’t want to talk to him while they’re watching me. Things are shifting between Liam and me, but whatever there is, it’s still private.

  When we get to our tents, I park the car and we get out.<
br />
  “What should we do now?” Jessie asks. It’s midafternoon, and hot. The air is full of buzzing insects. “While you talk to lover boy?”

  “We need a new plan,” JJ says.

  “No shit,” says Jessie.

  “Guys, Jesus. This is exactly what she wants,” I say. “To divide us.”

  “Looks like it’s working.”

  “Enough!” JJ says. “This is not helping.”

  I take a deep breath. “You’re right. This isn’t the way.”

  “What is, then?” Jessie asks.

  “We need to work together.”

  “That hasn’t gotten us anywhere to date.”

  “Come on, Jessie,” I say, reaching out my hand. “Truce?”

  She hesitates, then reaches out. Her hand is cold, like it’s been dipped in ice. “Truce.”

  Because we’re playing nice now as we try to think up our next move, Jessie agrees to go for a paddle. JJ needs time to think, she says, and we can bring some food and regroup on the other side of the lake.

  “You guys get changed,” I say after we’ve settled this. “And I’ll call Liam.”

  They agree, and I take my phone out and start walking to where I can get a clear signal. The Tetons are beautiful, but they aren’t great for cell service. Liam picks up before the first ring is through.

  “Hey, there,” he says.

  I can’t help but smile. “Hey.”

  “How did it go today?”

  “Not great.”

  “She didn’t show?” he says with resignation.

  “No, she did. Listen.” I sit down on a pine bench on the side of the road and fill him in. “So, can you do it?”

  “Watch out for another Jessica Williams? Of course.”

  “Don’t watch her too closely.”

  “Is that jealousy I hear?”

  “Maybe.”

  Liam goes silent.

  “What?”

  “That was weird that Jessie came into the airport.”

  “Yeah. Wait, do you know something?”

  “Sometimes the absence of something is something.”

  Classic Liamism.

  “What did you not find?” I ask.

  “I can’t find any record of her going back more than four years.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “Mario just got in touch. He’s the guy who helped me find Jackson Jessica.”

  “We call her Five.”

  “I’m sure she loves that.”

  “Yeah, yeah. So why was he looking into Jessie?”

  “I told him to look into both of them.”

  “Jessie and JJ?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I worry about you. You’re putting yourself in vulnerable positions with people you don’t even know.”

  “Please don’t raise your voice at me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  My brain is whirring. “So, he found something?”

  “Like I said, he didn’t find anything. No record of her until four years ago. That’s when she started working at that high school in Illinois.”

  “There could be lots of explanations for that.”

  “Not that many.”

  “There weren’t any records of me until I left the Land of Todd.”

  “Was she in the Land of Todd?”

  “No.”

  “So . . .”

  “Okay. It’s weird.”

  “You should go to the police.”

  “So you’re always saying.”

  “And you never listen.”

  “Go to the police with what? We don’t know anything.”

  “Come home, then,” Liam says.

  A mosquito bites me. I crush it against my arm, my own blood oozing onto my hand.

  “I will. Tomorrow.”

  “And until then?”

  “I’ll be careful.” JJ appears across the road. She’s waving at me. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Call me later?”

  “Of course.”

  I hang up the call and stand. I wipe my sticky hand on my pants as I cross the road.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “We’re ready to go.”

  “I need a few minutes. Why don’t you take your boards down to the lake and I’ll catch up.”

  “You okay?”

  “Just trying to figure this all out.”

  JJ gives me a look, then decides to let it go.

  When we get back to the tent, Jessie’s dressed in a pair of dark-blue shorts, a white T-shirt, and flip-flops.

  “I have to get changed. I’ll meet you on the beach.”

  I watch them pick up their boards and paddles and start down the path. Then I go into Jessie’s tent and zip the door behind me. Her suitcase is closed. I pull it toward me. I spread out her sleeping bag and dump out its contents. Clean clothes. The jeans and underclothes she was wearing earlier today. I check the pockets. There’s a folded piece of stiff paper in one of them. I pull it out. It’s the boarding pass for the ticket she bought to get through security.

  It’s not in the name of Jessica Williams. Instead, it says Molly Carter.

  PART III

  Chapter 28

  The Final Countdown

  One of my clearest memories of Kiki post-LOT was the first and only New Year’s Eve we went out and celebrated together.

  It was at a huge loft party in the Meatpacking District, not that far from Liam’s apartment, though he didn’t attend. It was one of those parties with hundreds of guests and cheap alcohol and people dressed up even though it wasn’t a dressy party. It cost fifty dollars a head, and they gave you a gift bag at the door with a bowler hat or a sparkly headband, and a necklace made out of letters that created the phrase NEW YEAR’S EVE over and over. There were noisemakers, too, those plastic horns that make obnoxious sounds that only children enjoy, or adults at a year-end party. And there were drinks included: a glass of “champagne” at midnight, and a strong punch for the rest of the evening.

  Kiki didn’t want to go when I first brought it up, but I persuaded her. That felt like a metaphor for what our relationship had become since Todd died. Me persuading Kiki eventually. It was as if she’d used up whatever will she had by agreeing to leave the LOT in the first place. Anything else simply took too much effort. So, I had to persuade her, cajole her, threaten her, even, sometimes.

  “You should learn how to live on your own,” I said to her six months after I’d brought her back from the Catskills. After years of having to share a room with another student at college, and now Kiki, I was ready for a room of my own, even if it was a tiny closet. But I didn’t tell Kiki that. No. I made it about her, her development, her progress.

  She needed to go to real school, like I had, and live in a dorm and meet people. She needed to get her life into gear and do all the things I’d done, but without the year at Liam’s. I had Kiki on a faster timeline, and I’d been keeping Liam at a distance. I still hadn’t told him about Kiki. He had a few new escapees he was working with, not to mention his usual private detective business. It was a good thing, I thought then. I was growing up along with Kiki, leaving the nest, spreading my wings.

  We were about to get the money from the settlement, and it eased our path and our plans. Slowly, slowly, Kiki came out of her shell. After I signed her up and helped her prep for the tests, she got her GED on the first try; she was always the smartest of all of us. She started looking into college programs, and eventually decided she wanted to teach kids—kindergarten, specifically. And though I thought she made that choice partly out of fear, I understood it. Five-year-olds could be monsters, but not the kind of monsters we’d grown up with. I helped her write her college essay, and she got into Columbia and NYU.

  She chose NYU and enrolled in their early-childhood-education program. By the time New Year’s had rolled around, she’d completed her first semester and had even made a few friends among the girls she dormed wit
h. To be honest, they were mostly washed-out girls who’d lived on the fringes of their high schools, but they were kind enough. Safe. Safe. Kiki always wanted to be safe.

  Who could blame her?

  Not me. But I could cajole her. Get her out of her comfort zone.

  Which is why I pushed so hard about the party.

  I didn’t even know the people throwing it, but a few people from FeedNews were going to be there, and I thought the anonymity of the crowd would be a good thing. Better than standing in the cold among the drunks in Times Square, or curling up in bed with a book, which is what Kiki wanted to do. A party full of possibilities seemed like the right thing for both of us.

  I picked Kiki up in an almost-impossible-to-find cab in front of her building. When we got to the party, we climbed the metal stairs to the top floor, the bass notes of a club song pushing the party out into the street. They had a coat check, and with trepidation, I handed over my black coat that looked like hundreds of others. I shook out my hair and turned to Kiki. She looked especially beautiful that night, her hair golden and straight, wearing an empire-waisted dress that sparkled with sequins.

  “Where did you find that?” I asked as she fished a party hat out of her favor bag and stuck it on her head.

  “At a thrift shop near my apartment.”

  I touched the fabric. It was a soft velvet. “It looks fantastic.”

  She blushed. “Thanks.”

  I slipped the New Year’s necklace around my neck and the headband on my head. I knew I looked kind of ridiculous, but I didn’t care.

  We entered the party. It was after nine and there were already hundreds of people there. An informal dance floor was going on in the middle of the room where a crowd of girls were werk, werk, werk-ing it.

  I leaned close to Kiki so she could hear me. “Should I get us a drink?”

  “Sure.”

  I went to the open kitchen—long concrete countertops and glossy black cabinets—to get us some of the high-octane punch we’d been promised. I ran into some of the FeedNews crew there and lost track of time. When I went looking for Kiki half an hour later, I couldn’t find her.