Again she turned to the stranger behind the wheel. He stared straight ahead, waiting for something. For what? she wondered.
Then, swiveling abruptly in his seat, he drilled his gaze through her and ordered, “Get out.”
“But there’s—”
“Get. Out. Now.” He rationed the words through clenched teeth, as if every syllable were in danger of extinction.
She moved her hand to the door handle, purposely fumbling with the lock. Stalling. She couldn’t give up this car. Kevin would kill her for sure.
A sudden movement to her left jolted her as her captor withdrew something from the pouch of his sweatshirt. The flash of metal revealed a small handgun.
He leveled it at her. The violent shaking of his hands assured her it was loaded. But it told her something else: this man wasn’t accustomed to doing things like this. Either that, or he was high on something.
“I said get out. Get out, or you are one dead chick.” His face showed he meant it.
She opened the door and scrambled out. Then she remembered Kevin’s bottle. If she had the whiskey, at least she could prove to Kevin that she’d been where she was supposed to be—where he’d told her to go.
She grabbed the Civic’s door handle, but a sudden screak of tires caused her to let loose of the door handle as if it were alive with high voltage. The car lurched forward, pelting her with a spray of fine gravel.
The impact sent Maggie tumbling backward off the road’s narrowing shoulder. She clutched at a fistful of weeds on the way down, but it barely broke her fall. She landed with a thud in a spongy drainage ditch.
Rubbing her eyes, she waited for the dizziness to subside. When she’d regained her bearings, she tied a loose shoestring and scrambled up the steep incline back onto the roadway. She swiped in vain at a grass stain on her white blouse and dusted the sand from her khakis. Brushing her hands together, she saw that her palms were imprinted with specks of sand and asphalt. They stung as if they’d been burned.
Now what?
Before she had time to think, a pickup veered off the ramp and whizzed past her going at least twice as fast as the 25 mph speed limit sign suggested. Two young men inside rubbernecked, taunting and blowing wolf whistles.
The bare-chested passenger hung out the window and shouted, “Hey, blondie, whatcha sellin’ there?”
The truck slowed, and Maggie’s heart thumped in her throat. But the pickup sped up again when a midnight blue sedan came down the ramp behind it. The truck turned on the city street as the sedan came to a halt at the bottom of the hill. But instead of turning, the blue sedan pitched into reverse and rolled back up the ramp toward her.
Maggie froze. For all she knew, she might have been safer in the Civic with a deranged gunman than with the driver of this car. The sedan came to a stop a few yards in front of her. Maggie frantically rehearsed what she would say to the driver as the dark glass of the passenger’s side window rolled down smoothly.
“Do you need a ride, honey?” a squawky feminine voice called out.
Maggie stooped to peer in the window and almost laughed. The monster of her imagination was a petite, gray-haired woman. When Maggie’s own reflection stared back at her in the sedan’s tinted window, it struck her that the old woman was probably as frightened at her disheveled appearance as Maggie was at the unknown.
“No, that’s okay,” she told the woman. “I . . . I’m waiting for a ride.”
“This is no place for a young girl,” the driver scolded. “Why don’t you let me take you wherever it is you’re going?”
Maggie hesitated, then reached for the door. She wasn’t going to get a safer offer than this.
Maggie settled into the passenger seat. The woman reached a diamond-spangled arm to adjust her rearview mirror. In the side mirror, Maggie spotted a car coming up behind them on the ramp. She jerked her door shut and searched for the seat belt.
A heavy, sweet perfume clung to the interior of the sedan. The driver trained her eyes on the road and swiftly merged into traffic on the one-way street that by now was teeming with morning commuters.
Maggie watched the woman from the fringe of her vision, taking in the ice blue jogging suit that was a perfect match to the neat French twist of her hair. Sparkly earrings and matching bracelets and rings seemed somehow to complement the casual outfit perfectly.
Two blocks later the woman pressed a spotless white tennis shoe to the brake at a red light and stretched a frail, veined hand toward Maggie. “My name is Opal Sanchez. Call me Opal.”
“Hi. I’m Maggie Anderson.” She forced a smile. “Thanks for the ride.”
Opal eyed the grass-stained knees of Maggie’s pants. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She would have to report the car stolen to the police, but she was hesitant to tell this woman what had happened. She’d learned long ago not to trust too easily.
“If you say so. Now where can I take you? You headed to work this early?”
Maggie shook her head. “My apartm—”
Something stopped her. Kevin would be fuming when she got there. And he’d probably send her right back to the liquor store—after he slapped her around a little.
Opal drove on, one ear inclined toward Maggie, waiting for her directions. Maggie wished she could keep going. Drive until the road ended, wherever that might be. Just disappear.
Her breath caught. The fragile seed of the idea hovered there, tempting her. She stared out her window at the blur of highway guardrail. The roadsides were overgrown with weeds.
Why not disappear?
Kevin had no clue where she was right now. What was to stop her? He might search every cranny of the city for her, but this time she had a chance. This time, he wouldn’t find her. Not the way he’d followed her to the refuge of her sister’s apartment in Baltimore on her twenty-fourth birthday. Not the way he’d tracked her to the women’s shelter a year later. They wouldn’t have let her stay anyway. Kevin’s abuse hadn’t yet turned physical then, and the shelter had a policy on that. Besides, he managed to say the words that charmed the folks at the shelter . . . then charmed her right back into his arms, right back into his lair.
But now . . .
Maybe she had finally stumbled on a haven that Kevin Bryson couldn’t breach. And one that would protect her from her own foolishness.
Maggie’s thoughts leapfrogged over themselves. “I need to get to—” She remembered the sign she’d seen after they crossed the Tappan Zee. “I need to get to Saddle River.”
The furrows in Opal’s forehead deepened. “We’re going the wrong way for Saddle River, honey. Are you sure?”
Was she sure about this? If she disappeared, she would have to leave everything behind. But the few possessions she owned paled compared to this chance to escape the horror her life had become. Still, she wouldn’t be able to go back. Not for her drawings and the arsenal of art supplies she’d paid a small fortune for. Not even for Buttons. She swallowed hard. The big green-eyed tabby had been her confidant when she had no one else to talk to. Many a night she’d soaked the big tomcat’s fur with her tears. It almost made her weep now to think of never seeing him again.
At least she didn’t have to worry about Kevin hurting the cat. In truth, the man had offered Buttons more respect and kindness than he’d ever granted her. For the thousandth time, she asked herself why she hadn’t seen Kevin Bryson for what he was. Before it was too late.
Sadly, she’d known for months now—ever since the night he finally made good on his threats—that Kevin wasn’t anything she thought him to be when she fell for him. That night, the bruises and wrenched muscles he inflicted were nothing compared to the pain in her heart. But she’d been a coward. Too terrified to do anything about her situation.
But now, freedom was hers for the asking.
Opal parked at a curb. “Do you want to go back?”
“I . . . are you sure you have time?”
Opal Sanchez had a musical laugh. “Honey, time i
s one possession I have in spades. Your wish is my command.” She held out a hand Vanna White style.
Maggie laughed too. “Okay. Yes. Please take me to Saddle River.”
The words were there before she thought about all they meant. But as soon as she breathed them into the close air of the sedan, they filled her with an elation she hadn’t felt in a long time.
They also filled her with something she barely recognized.
Something all but forgotten.
Hope.
“And where in Saddle River do you live?”
Did suspicion lurk in the wavering voice? Maggie sneaked a glance at Opal. The doubt in the woman’s eyes matched that in her voice.
Maggie took a deep breath. This was her moment of truth. If she did this, she couldn’t tell anyone. Kevin was too smart. And he’d tracked her down too many times before. No, if she made this happen, no one could know. Not even Jennifer.
The thought of her sister’s sweet face made her hesitate. What if Kevin looked for her at Jenn’s? What if he thought Jennifer was lying? He might just be angry enough to hurt her. To try to make her tell him something she couldn’t possibly know. Of course, Jenn had Mark to protect her. Jenn’s burly, six-foot-three husband had always intimidated Kevin. But what if he waited until he knew Mark was away?
Maybe she could warn her sister somehow. Or throw Kevin off the track. But she’d worry about that later. Right now she had to make a decision. Either she was doing this, or she was going back to the life that had become unbearable. And going back to face whatever judgment Kevin decided to dole out.
“I have friends in Saddle River.” The words poured out in a torrent. “They’re meeting me downtown. You can drop me off anywhere there. I know my way around.”
For an instant, Opal Sanchez looked as if she might challenge Maggie. But then, with a little shake of her head, she worked the gearshift on the steering column and eased back into traffic.
Maggie’s senses went on alert. Had Kevin sent them looking for her already?
Chapter Three
Maggie tried not to gawk like a tourist as they entered the borough of Saddle River. After all, she supposedly had friends here. She felt Opal Sanchez’s eyes on her as the woman slowed the sedan to the posted speed limit.
Opal tapped the steering wheel with a manicured finger. “I’m not sure where downtown is.”
Maggie’s mind raced. She looked for a sign or something that would give her a hint. She spotted a café down the street. “You can let me out here. I want to get a little something to eat anyway.”
“Oh. Well, let me buy you breakfast.” Opal patted her shiny, white patent-leather pocketbook. “I haven’t had anything since my coffee early this morning.”
Maggie was starting to suspect that the elderly woman was onto her deceit. But she was hungry. Besides, she owed the woman for the ride. She checked her pocket for the change from Kevin’s fifty-dollar bill. She had barely twenty dollars, but it should be enough for breakfast. “My treat.”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that. Let me buy you breakfast. I’ve enjoyed your company.”
“I . . . wouldn’t feel right.” But Maggie’s protest sounded weak even to her own ears. If she was going to get far from Kevin Bryson, she’d need every dime in her pocket.
“Nonsense.” Opal bobbed her chin for emphasis. “I’ve got plenty, and you’re just starting out in this world. You keep your money.”
Just starting out in this world.
Opal Sanchez couldn’t know how profound her words were. But they encouraged Maggie. “Thank you. I really appreciate the ride and everything.”
“Don’t mention it again.” Opal steered the car into a parking place in front of the café and set the brake. She fumbled with her seat belt as though her fingers might be arthritic. She winced and rubbed her shoulder before reaching for the door handle.
Maggie jumped out of the car and ran around to help Opal with the door.
Exhilaration surged through her as she followed the old woman into the restaurant. How long had it been since she’d gone anywhere or done anything without Kevin’s first approving it? And if for some rare reason he didn’t come with her for an occasion, he tracked her every move, dictating who she could talk to and when she should be home.
When they opened the door to the café, a bell rang somewhere overhead, announcing their arrival. Two law-enforcement officers with Saddle River patches on their sleeves turned to watch them from their perches on padded stools at the long counter.
Maggie’s senses went on alert. Had Kevin sent them looking for her already? He hadn’t wasted any time.
When the younger policeman turned to speak to his partner in low tones, Maggie murmured to Opal, “I have to go.” She brushed past her and made for the door.
“Wait, honey,” Opal said. “Wait! Just a—”
But the closing door cut off her words. Maggie jogged half a block before she stopped on the sidewalk, panning the street, calculating where she might hide if the officers pursued her.
“Maggie? Wait!” Opal’s voice called from behind her.
Maggie spun around. Opal hurried along the sidewalk toward her.
The policemen were nowhere in sight.
She waited for Opal to catch up. The old woman was wheezing and breathless.
Maggie felt a stab of guilt. “I need to go.” She glanced over Opal’s shoulder to make sure the officers weren’t following. “I-I just remembered I have to meet my friends.”
“Well, here.” Opal rummaged in her pocketbook. “I want to give you something.”
Maggie fidgeted, anxious to get away from the diner. But she was curious too.
Opal thrust a wad of rolled-up bills at her.
“What’s this?”
“I want you to have it.”
“But why?”
Opal chuckled and looked toward the sky. “Honey, when the Man upstairs tells you to do something, you don’t turn Him down and you don’t ask questions.”
“The man up—” Maggie stopped. “Oh, you mean . . . ?” She let her gaze travel up to follow Opal’s.
The woman smiled and patted Maggie’s hand—the one holding the cash. “Whatever you’re running from, whatever you’re searching for . . . maybe this will help you on your journey.”
“But—”
“Shhh. Just accept it. Maybe you can do the same for someone else when you’re an old woman like me.”
Maggie didn’t know what to think. She needed the money. It might be the only thing that kept her from running back to Kevin. But she didn’t feel right accepting cash from a stranger. Besides, Opal had already given her a ride and offered to buy her breakfast.
She let her gaze meet the woman’s rheumy brown eyes, questioning.
“Please,” Opal said, “if it makes you feel better, I have plenty where that came from. My father left me well off.”
Maggie made up her mind. She touched Opal’s veined hand. “Thank you so much. You don’t know what this means to me.”
“I think I have some idea.” Opal smiled. “You go on now. And God bless you.”
Maggie wanted to hug her, but somehow she couldn’t make herself reach out and embrace the frail woman. Too many times she’d made herself vulnerable, only to be rejected. “Thank you, Opal. God bless you too.”
Maggie turned and ran up the street, not slowing until she veered into a side alley. She pivoted and started to jog backward, hoping to spot Opal. When a flash of ice blue disappeared into the café, Maggie stopped on the corner of the street and held up one hand in a useless wave.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Reluctantly, she jogged around the corner. She ran for six blocks, careful to pace herself, so she would appear to be an ordinary morning jogger. But she took a circuitous route, going a block north, turning west for another block and a half, then zigzagging north again through a wide commercial alleyway. If the cops were looking for her, she wouldn’t make it easy for them.
Now fairly
certain she wasn’t being followed, she stopped at a bench in front of a post office, exhausted and out of breath. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she plucked the wad of cash Opal Sanchez had given her from the pocket of her khakis and unrolled the bills. She fanned them out enough to read the denominations. Her breath caught at the sight of two hundred-dollar bills along with some smaller bills. She took a quick count. With her change from the liquor store, she had almost three hundred dollars. Except for making out the checks to pay the apartment bills, she hadn’t had that much money at her disposal since the day she quit her job at the design firm and moved in with Kevin.
Three hundred dollars wouldn’t last long, but maybe long enough to get her far, far away from New York.
The sleepy little town of Saddle River was starting to wake up. The digital clock atop a savings and loan down the street flashed back and forth between 78 degrees and 6:15 a.m. She was in New Jersey. Probably a couple of hours from the apartment.
She’d already gotten farther away than she ever dared to dream. Strangest of all, after all the nights she’d lain awake in bed beside Kevin, planning an escape she knew would never happen—staring at the ceiling, terrified to move, lest she awaken him and provoke his ire—now, without one moment of planning, she found herself miles away and him none the wiser. She shook her head in disbelief. It was as if she’d been handed a gift beyond anything she could have wished for.
But what next? Where could she go on three hundred dollars? More importantly, if she managed to find a job and a place to live, she’d have to prove her identity, go on record. And he would find her. She knew him too well not to believe that.
The sun slanted between the buildings and warmed her face. Beads of perspiration sprung up on her forehead. She’d better decide something soon.
When her stomach growled, she remembered she hadn’t eaten since yesterday evening. She stood and shoved the cash deeper into her pocket. The most important thing she could do now was to put as many miles as possible between her and Kevin Bryson.
Had he gone to the office yet? Would he stay home and worry about her, or would he go on as usual? Would he fix his own lunch, or would he have to buy something from the cafeteria at the firm? She was going to be in so much trouble when he—
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