Lucky(51)

She started running when she was around the corner. When she got to the storage facility, she typed in the code she remembered. It didn’t work. “Shit.” She tried again. No. She had a number wrong, she knew it. But if she kept messing it up, the lock would shut down. One more try. She closed her eyes and pictured the coded list. And there it was. She had it. A satisfying beep, and she was in. She closed the door behind her and stacked the boxes she had left inside the locker so she could reach the lottery ticket she’d hidden in the smoke detector.

It was still there. When Lucky had the ticket in her hand she sagged with relief—but just for a moment. She wasn’t safe yet. She took out her wallet to put the ticket inside, and Reyes’s card fell out. She held it up and read it. Driver San Diego Third-Strikers Foundation.

“If only you had a car,” she said to Betty, picking up her leash. The dog tilted her head, quizzical. Lucky sighed. “Never mind. I’ll be right back.” She locked the door and went to the pay phone in the parking lot.

“You said I could call you if I needed help. Where are you right now?”

“I just dropped someone off in Bakersfield.”

“Okay, so you’re less than two hours away. I need help. I need a ride.”



* * *




Lucky stared out the window of Reyes’s white SUV, silent now after explaining as much as she was able. The scenery sped by. They were outside Fresno now, heading west.

“So…” Reyes finally said. “Instead of calling me for help first, you went to Priscilla?”

“I had no one else to call. As if I can trust you more than I can trust her,” Lucky muttered. “As if I can trust anyone.”

Reyes drummed her fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the song on the car stereo, then chuckled. “I’m pretty sure you can trust anyone more than you can trust Priscilla Lachaise.”

Lucky sighed and turned away from the window. “I just… I needed to know if she knew anything. About where Cary went.”

“And did she?”

“She said he might be dead.”

“I’m not sure how to feel about that.”

“Me neither,” Lucky said. She closed her eyes for a second, and she could see Cary’s familiar face. It hurt to think of him for different reasons now. “I know it probably sounds stupid to you because you always hated him, but he was my—” She couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t say aloud that the man who had betrayed her, lied to her for years, made a complete fool of her, had been the love of her life.

“I get it. You loved the guy and probably still do. Unfortunately the heart doesn’t often give a shit what the mind has to say to it,” Reyes said.

A few more miles of highway disappeared beneath the tires of the SUV before either of them spoke again.

“So, where am I dropping you off?” Reyes said.

“The bus station is coming up. I’m going to New York State.”

“You’re planning to take the dog on a bus? They don’t allow that.”

“Shit.” Lucky glanced at Betty in the back seat. She had been so happy to find her dog again. The idea of having to leave her behind simply hadn’t occurred to her.

“I’d drive you all the way to New York, but I have a job in two days and have to be in Oakland. I could take the dog, though.”

Lucky bit her lip, thinking. But she knew there was no other way for her to get to her mother’s fishing camp than by bus. “Thanks,” she finally said. “I’d appreciate it.” The bus station had come into view. “I’ll be in touch when I can come get her. I have your card. A couple of weeks, at most. And—and when I do, everything will be different.”

“Sure,” Reyes said. “I’ll keep her as long as you need me to. As long as she doesn’t mind long car rides.”

“She’s good with anything.”

“How can I reach you, if I need to?”

Lucky shook her head. She didn’t want anyone to know where she was going, not yet.

“Don’t you think I should have a way to get in touch? What if something happens with Betty? What if your dad’s hearing goes forward? There’s been a lot of movement. These things happen fast, when they start to get going.”

“I’ll be at Devereaux Camp, near Cooperstown.”

Reyes nodded slowly. “Your dad said something once about having an ex-wife living out there. Is that your…?”

“My mom,” Lucky said. “I have something I think she might like to see. Something she can help me with. I hope.”

“I hope she can help you, too. You sure as hell need it. And I wish I could do more. Do you need money?” Lucky did, but there was no way she was asking for charity from Reyes.

“I’m fine,” she said.

Reyes pulled to a stop in the bus station parking lot. Lucky turned back and buried her face in her dog’s fur. “I’ll see you soon, I promise.” She grabbed her backpack and got out of the car. “I’ll pay you back someday,” she said after Reyes rolled down her window.

“No payback needed. Good luck to you, with whatever it is you’re hoping will happen.”

Lucky hitched her backpack over her shoulder, then stood watching as Reyes rolled up her window and drove away, leaving her on her own again.