You Can't Catch Me(52)

Surveillance is always an odd, voyeuristic experience, but trailing Five was even more so. She didn’t feel like a stranger, more like a Russian Dolls version of me. Same name, same birthday. I could’ve had this life. Easy money and outdoor healthfulness instead of Todd and discipline. If my parents had only made better choices.

Once I thought she made me. We were sitting at Thai Me Up—all the Thai restaurants in town have punny names for some reason—me a couple of tables away from her, and she was looking at me like she knew me from somewhere. I smiled at her in a friendly way, nothing to be nervous about, and she smiled back. Then her food came, and she lost interest in me and went back to reading her book. But I was more careful after that. I didn’t need to be there for everything. I already had enough.

I was there when Five got the notice that she’d won the contest we’d created, though. A UPS package left on her doorstep. I was sitting at the bus stop across the street, a Jackson Hole ball cap pulled down low. I watched her bend to pick it up, then open the package. She squealed when she read what was inside and almost skipped into her house. Who could blame her? An all-expense-paid trip to New York. A hotel room at the Parker. A $25,000 cash prize would be awarded to her there so she could travel to wherever she wanted and advance her art.

When she was inside, I took out my phone and called the local paper. I’d checked them out too. They did a great job covering local events, but they weren’t a crack team of investigative journalists. I let them know that one of their local citizens had won a prize for her photography and that a press release would follow shortly. When they received it, the contact person to call was Jessie. JJ had designed a website for the prize—an anonymous philanthropist who enjoyed finding new talent and rewarding it—had set it up five years ago. His team of volunteers scoured the internet to find the year’s best photos. We’d worked hard to make it good enough to fool anyone, including Jessica Two.

If Five, or anyone else, called the Parker, she had a reservation. A few days later, I was the one who called her to book her flight. When my own Google Alert picked up the story, I knew everything was in place.

Now we had to wait and see if Jessica would take the bait.





Chapter 23

We Few, We Happy Few

It’s August 15. JJ’s flying into Jackson this morning; Jessie comes tomorrow. Five’s flight is set for the day after that.

I crawl out of my tent and work the kinks out of my body that have accumulated overnight. I’ve been camping in the park in the campground near Jackson Lake. It’s about forty-five minutes outside of Jackson, which is deliberate. I didn’t want to get known by a hotel, which would have been inevitable if I stayed there for weeks. The campground has the added benefit of being cheap and full of a transient population. It’s rare for the sites surrounding mine to be occupied by the same group two nights in a row. I bought a tent, sleeping bags, camp stove, and pans in town. I use a headlamp to read at night. I shower in the communal camp showers every other day so the attendants don’t get too used to seeing me. I talk to no one but Liam.

It’s not the same between us as it was in New York. That idyll we created, where our differences and our pasts didn’t matter—that’s all slipping away. Liam doesn’t want me doing this, so he says on a regular basis, and yet he’s the reason I’ve been able to get this far. What am I supposed to do with that information?

I try not to let thoughts of him consume me. I need to focus on what’s ahead. I need to shower, get dressed, and go pick up JJ. In forty-eight hours, this is all coming to a head.

I start the clock in my mind and get to work.

“Never thought I’d stay in one of these again,” JJ says as she stoops and peers into the tent. “You think we’re all going to fit in here?”

“I bought two. Jessie likes to sleep alone.”

She gives a look over her shoulder and stands up. She walks over to the paddleboards I rented. I’ve been taking one out most mornings, and I got two more yesterday for JJ and Jessie. When you get away from shore, the lake looks the way it must have before anyone got here and decided to erect a campground. Each morning I paddle farther, my arms straining until the effort seems less.

“The tent’s not too bad with an air mattress,” I say.

“Air mattress!” JJ says. “Ha.”

“You didn’t have those in Afghanistan?”

“Not so much.”

She turns around to face me. She looks focused and far away at the same time.

“Why did you pick here?” she asks.

“It’s out of the way. No one stays here long. Easier to stay anonymous.”

“Makes sense.”

“You did a great job with that online stuff,” I say. “I felt like you captured Five’s authentic voice.”

She smiles. She’s wearing a Killers T-shirt and cargo shorts. “Yeah, right. Whatever. You think it’s going to work?”

“Five bought it.”

“Sure. Who wouldn’t want a free trip to New York? But will she?”

“Jessica will play along.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“She can’t stop now. She’s come too far.”

“I hope you’re right.” JJ shakes her head. “If there’s a God up there, and he sees all of us in the same place, do you think he might open a rift in the time-space continuum?”