“Well ya best hurry, child, you don’t wanna miss the bus now.”
“I’ll be as quick as possible,” Hillary promised with a smile then walked off, the duffel bag dangling from her forearm.
She waited for the skinhead just outside the restroom area, wishing that he would hurry up and get there. She didn’t want Miss Billie to wonder what was taking her so long and come looking for her. As she waited, she unzipped the duffel bag and pulled out a small but sharp paring knife. She slid it carefully into her back pocket.
She watched as men and women entered and exited the bathrooms. After a few minutes, the lanky skinhead arrived. He was still donning a wide smile across his stubbly face. He stepped up to her and slid his arm around her shoulder.
“How old are you sweetheart?” He asked out of curiosity.
“Old enough,” Hillary replied with a wink. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”
Hillary placed her hand over his crotch and massaged it gently.
Oh, God, this bitch is raring to go, the skinhead thought excitedly.
He couldn’t believe his luck. Of all the places to meet a sexy young girl willing to satisfy his needs. When she had first suggested that they meet, he didn’t believe that she would actually show up. He half-expected to find that old woman waiting to give him a piece of her mind.
He instantly grew erect as he reached over with his left hand and fondled Hillary’s breasts though her shirt. He went to kiss her on the mouth but she turned her head and said “Let’s find some place private.” She didn’t want to kiss that creep. His breath smelled of minty gum masking cigarette smoke.
“We can do it in one of the stalls,” he suggested and pulled her into the men’s restroom before she could protest.
It was dirty and nasty and smelled like someone had just taken a toxic dump in one of the bowls.
“We’ll make it quick,” he said, reading the scorn on Hillary’s face.
Hillary heard a toilet flush and broke free from the skinhead’s grasp. She placed the duffel bag on the counter by the sinks and ran into an empty stall to hide. The skinhead waited for the aging man to wash his hands and leave. Then he locked the bathroom.
“Okay,” he said impishly, “the coast is clear...come on out gorgeous.”
Hillary slowly opened the stall door and peeked out.
“Come over here,” she said seductively as she pulled her tee shirt off.
The skinhead’s eyes widened as he unfastened the top button on his jeans then unzipped them. He walked toward Hillary and placed his prickly face between her breasts. Hillary reached into her pocket with her right hand and slowly pulled out the knife. She kept it hidden at her side as she grabbed a hold of his forehead with her left hand and shoved his head back violently.
“Hey, wh—” is all he managed to vocalize before Hillary plunged the knife into his throat.
Shocked and terrified, the skinhead grunted a choked sound as he brought his hand to this throat and tried to back away from her.
“That’s for Miss Billie,” she spat. “You should never have said those things to her.”
Hillary jumped on the man, wrapping her legs around him and knocking him to the floor before he had a chance to remove the knife from his neck. She dug it in even deeper. She could hear the crunching sound of his windpipe crushing as she rammed the knife in deeply. She grinded it in and twisted the blade fiercely into his ravaged trachea. She stared at him coldly as she listened to the gurgling sounds of his last frantic pleas.
Killing him was thrilling but not satisfying. Hillary had no desire to stay and watch him suffer. She knew the connecting bus would be arriving soon and Miss Billie was probably already searching the ladies’ room for her. Hillary quickly searched the man’s back pocket and grabbed his wallet. She pulled the knife out of his butchered throat and watched as the blood and saliva mixture that escaped began to bubble up and become frothy. There was a faint hiss from the bloody gash.
Hillary jogged back to the sink and tossed the wallet on the counter and the knife in the sink. She washed the blood off her hands. She unzipped the duffel bag, added the wallet to her belongings then rinsed the knife under hot water. She pulled a different shirt out of the bag and set it down on the counter as she threw the knife into the bag and zipped it up.
Hillary examined herself in the mirror to make sure that she didn’t get any blood on her. She noticed that she had some of the man’s blood on her chest from when she had tackled him to the floor. She quickly washed it off then wiped her chest dry with a paper towel. There was blood stained on her bra, but no one would see it. She had smeared it into the fabric from wiping. She was sure that it wouldn’t stain through the new shirt, which she slipped on quickly.
Hillary heard the doorknob on the bathroom door being twisted by someone on the outside and she clutched the knife tightly. The door was locked. She exhaled deeply then went to work dragging the skinhead’s body into the stall. She was grateful that he was so skinny and much lighter than some of the lifeless bodies she had moved before. She strained to pull him as far into the stall as she could. She had to bend his legs at the knees to keep them from sticking out beyond the stall door. Then she stepped over him to lock the door from the inside. She crawled underneath the side wall to the adjacent stall, careful not to get any more blood on her clothes.
A heavy pounding on the door startled her. She quickly stood up and ran back to the sinks.
“Is someone in there?” An angry man’s voice boomed.
Hillary knew she had to hurry. She used several sheets of paper towel to clean the blood off the floor and noticeable areas. She grabbed her shirt from the floor. Unfortunately, some of the man’s blood had dripped onto it. Hillary discarded it, shoving it far down at the bottom of the trash can along with the bloodied paper towels.
“I can hear you in there,” the man shouted. “Open this door at once!”
Hillary washed her hands again then retrieved the knife from the duffel bag. She carefully slipped it into her back pocket in case she needed it again. Her heat raced as she hoisted the duffel bag in front of her face then unlocked the door. She pulled it open rapidly as she lunged forward and tried to duck around the fuming man who was shouting profanities. She shoved into his left side violently and pushed him out of her way as she made a hasty retreat from the men’s room.
“What the—” the man said irately as he turned to see the man who had so rudely plowed through him on his way out of the bathroom. The...man? He did a double take as he saw the long blonde ponytail bounce from his sight.
“Fruitcake,” he muttered angrily as he shook his head in dismay then entered the men’s room.
Hillary kept the duffel bag in front of her face, peeking out over it as she walked briskly toward the table where she had left Miss Billie. She dropped the duffel bag on the empty table. The old woman was no longer there. She began to panic. Miss Billie had the bus tickets and all of the money. She nervously glanced at the clock. It was 12:39. The bus was expected to arrive at 12:45. Where was she? She had to get out of there and fast. It wouldn’t be long before someone stumbled upon the skinhead’s body. What was she thinking? Why did she waste her time killing that lowlife? She should never have done it. She had jeopardized her mission, and for what? Miss Billie’s character? Her honor? Why did she do it?
Hillary frantically looked around for Miss Billie as she unzipped the duffel bag, grabbed the knife from her pocket and inconspicuously tossed it in. A few minutes later she heard the sound of heavy, frenzied footsteps approaching and turned to see Miss Billie walking toward her. She stood quickly, grabbed the duffel bag and raced to the old woman’s side.
“Where was ya, child?” Miss Billie panted as she grabbed Hillary’s arm and quickly led her to the designated gate where the connecting bus would be arriving any minute.
The loud sound of police sirens blared before Hillary could answer.
“Oh my goodness, what now?” Miss Billie asked, stopping to
catch her breath. She released Hillary’s arm to place her hand over her chest.
“I’s ‘bout ta have me a heart attack, child! I went ta the restroom lookin’ fo’ ya but you wasn’t there so I figures ya went ta wait by the term’nal, but you wasn’t there neither.”
Hillary looked at her in silence. Miss Billie wasn’t going to probe.
“Well, you’s here now. C’mon, we gots ta get movin’ ‘fore we miss that bus.”
The bus was there and the baggage handler was loading bags and luggage in the compartment underneath but passengers were not allowed to board. Miss Billie handed her small suitcase to the baggage handler. Hillary kept the duffel bag at her side.
Several minutes later, passengers were growing impatient and questioning the reason for the holdup. From the conversations they could overhear, there was some sort of accident or injury. Within another few minutes, Hillary could see several police officers walking toward the bus concourse where they waited.
Her stomach sank instantly as she casually walked behind Miss Billie to hide behind the woman’s larger frame. She pulled the rubber band from her hair and stuffed it into her front pocket. She used her hand to fluff up her hair, hoping to give it more volume. She pulled several strands forward to frame her face. She wished that she had a hat.
The officers branched out. They seemed to be looking for someone in particular. Hillary’s heart lurched as one of the cops drew closer.
“I wonder what’s goin’ on,” Miss Billie said. “Looks like they’s lookin’ fo’ someone.”
She faced Hillary and noticed that the girl had let her hair loose.
“Oh, yo’ hair sure looks pretty that way, Caleigh.”
Shut up, Hillary thought, as the cop walked a few feet away. She didn’t need the woman drawing attention to her. She was sure that the man from the bathroom had gotten a good look at her from behind. He would be able to describe her clothes and her ponytail.
“Thanks,” she said quietly with a thin smile. She looked directly at Miss Billie, careful to avoid eye contact with the cop, though she could feel his eyes on her.
After the cop had walked past them and toward the bus concourse, Miss Billie turned to Hillary and asked, “Is anyone lookin’ fo’ you, child?”
“What do you mean?” Hillary asked distrustfully. Miss Billie was growing all too suspicious of her lately.
“I mean, you ran away an’ all and that cop over there sure was checkin’ ya out.”
“I don’t think anyone cares that I’m gone,” Hillary said flatly.
Miss Billie shrugged.
“Maybe he just likes yo’ pretty face.”
Hillary had thought about making a run for it but she knew that it would only draw more attention. With so many cops canvassing the terminal, she wouldn’t get very far at all. She had to just stay calm and act as if she were just an innocent young girl waiting to board a bus. She fought waves of nausea as Miss Billie talked about a bus trip she had once taken to Florida.
Miss Billie could see that the girl was distracted, nervous even. Was it just because she was a runaway and feared the possibility of being returned home? Or was there a more alarming reason for her obvious unease? She stopped talking and thought about all of the things she had read about on Pastor Louie’s computer. She was certain that there was a connection between this anxious girl and Hillary Greyson. But what was it?
Still, the woman remained confident that she was safe. She would get down to the bottom of it all in time. She trusted the Lord’s master plan and He had set her on this journey with this child for a reason.
An announcement over the public address (PA) system informed passengers that bus 913 bound for Wilmington, Delaware was now boarding at Gate 3.
Hilary felt greatly relieved as she smiled at Miss Billie and said, “That’s us!” The two began walking toward the line that was forming at the gate.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Miss Billie said, as they inched their forward.
“Have your tickets out and ready,” a man’s voice ahead of them demanded.
Miss Billie had taken the tickets out of her purse after handing her suitcase over to the baggage handler. She was well prepared. She handed one of the tickets to Hillary.
Hillary held on to it tightly as they slowly marched forward. They were getting closer to the concourse. All of the tension she had felt moments ago had vanished. She was eager to board the bus and be on her way to Maryland. They still had five hours remaining for their trip.
As they walked beyond the gate and onto the bus concourse, Hillary’s mouth and eyes both widened in shock and dread. There, standing at the open door to the bus was the police officer who had taken a marked interest in her back in the terminal. She quickly closed her mouth and averted her apprehensive eyes. Despite the heavy hammering of her heart, Hillary summoned all of her strength. She could fool him. She could act completely calm and carefree. She forced a smile upon her face as the line advanced toward the waiting bus.
Hillary was next in line. Her heart was pounding within her chest but she told herself that everything would be fine. She would walk right up to the cop and look directly into his eyes to show him that she had nothing to hide. She could do this. She could fool him the way she had fooled so many others.
She handed her ticket to the bus driver who tore off the thin page on top then handed her the receipt. She turned her head to the face the cop and smiled sweetly.
“Hi,” she said shyly as she went to step onto the bus.
“One minute,” the cop said soberly. His face was stone cold.
Hillary began to panic. Would he search the bag? She took a step back and stared up at him questioningly.
“There a problem, Off’cer?” Miss Billie asked him.
“This doesn’t concern you, ma’am,” he said firmly.
The officer was about to question Hillary when Miss Billie interrupted.
“Actually, Off’cer, it do concern me. This here child is under my care. We together.”
The cop looked puzzled.
“You’re traveling together?” He asked dubiously, looking back and forth between Hillary and Miss Billie.
Hillary nodded while Miss Billie added, “Yesiree, we sure are. We headed on up to Silver Spring, Maryland together.”
Shut up, Hillary screamed in her mind, stop giving away so much information.
“What’s your name, miss?” He asked sternly.
“Caleigh,” Hillary answered nervously. “Caleigh Montgomery.”
The officer nodded. He had thought about asking to search Hillary’s bag since she fit the description of the suspect they were searching for, but it seemed foolish now. For one thing, she was traveling with an old woman. Second of all, she looked so “American pie”—what harm could she possibly do...break some hearts? Third, it seemed highly unlikely that someone of her stature would have the physical strength to murder a full-grown man. Lastly, she wasn’t wearing a ponytail. It would be a waste of his time and a needless embarrassment for the woman and the girl. Besides, these travelers were eager to get going.
“Okay,” he said with a nod. “Go ahead.”
Hillary quickly boarded the bus without waiting for Miss Billie. She had a nervous stomach and had to sit down or risk losing her lunch. She couldn’t wait to get to the Silver Spring bus stop. Before she could savor the relief from getting past the cop, a new worry plagued her. What if there were cameras at the terminal that recorded her leaving the men’s room? What if cops were waiting for her when the bus arrived in Silver Spring? It was going to be a long, long ride....
~9~
Jake winced when he heard the doorbell ring. He lifted his throbbing head and squinted as he tried to make out the blurry numbers on the clock on his nightstand. 7:45? Who in God’s name would be ringing his doorbell so early? He put the pillow over his head, hoping that his visitor—whom he correctly assumed was Eliza Dunn—would just go away. No such luck.
Eliza Dunn was tenacious. Jake told
her to come back in the morning, he didn’t specify what time. It was morning, she was there and she wasn’t going to leave until she spoke to him. After ringing the bell nearly ten times with no response from Jake, Eliza pressed the button down and kept her finger on it. She would stay that way until the damn thing broke or Jake answered the door, whichever came first. Fortunately for Eliza, it was the latter.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He barked as he threw open the door.
He looked worse than anything the cat could have dragged in. His dark, thick hair was messy and his puffy eyes were bloodshot and half-open.
“I’m driving out to Raleigh,” Eliza said bluntly. “Are you coming with me or not?”
“What, you mean now?”
“No, I’ll just wait around for you to pull yourself together. What’ll that take, three, four months?”
“There’s no need to be crass,” Jake replied as he arched his eyebrows and massaged his temples.
He had never before experienced such a dreadful hangover. He wanted to drop to the floor, curl up in a ball and sleep until it went away. But the mere thought of Hillary and what Eliza had proposed to find her was enough to keep him standing and alert.
“I need some coffee,” he said wearily as he turned and walked to the kitchen, leaving the front door open for Eliza to enter.
Eliza thought that she liked him less and less with each encounter. Rolling her eyes, she entered the Bentley residence and closed the door behind her.
“No coffee for me, thanks,” she said sarcastically as she entered the kitchen.
“Sorry,” Jake mumbled, “a rude woman I know woke me up way too early. My manners are still asleep.”
Water dripped through the single-serve pod in the filter and produced a strong black coffee that filled his mug in under a minute. He grabbed the mug and offered it to Eliza.
“No thank you,” she said with a slight smile.
She did appreciate his attempt at being gracious.
Jake shrugged then carried the mug into the family room and sat on the recliner. Eliza followed behind him and sat on the couch. Jake sipped the hot beverage.
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