Hidden (Nicole Jones #1)(52)

I think about Steve and Jeanine, worry about how it’s going to be for them when Frank Cooper finds out that they’ve been helping me. He will wonder if they have known all along, and it might be difficult for them to prove that they haven’t.

‘So what is the job you wanted me to do? It’s for Tony, isn’t it? So we can pay back what we owe him. But what I want to know is your connection with him now. I know the car you were driving is registered to him. Are you working for him?’

‘I didn’t think you were interested. Will you really help me?’ He is talking about the job, ignoring my question about Tony.

‘Maybe. Maybe I’d like to put it all behind me, too, and really get a fresh start somewhere.’ I don’t think Tony is going to go away all that easily, though, even if we pay him back.

I see the headlights of a car approaching. Jeanine. It has to be Jeanine.

‘You have to leave,’ I say. ‘Can we meet later? Say, in a couple of hours?’

He hesitates, curious, and then he says, ‘Where? You know this place.’

I say the first thing that comes to mind. ‘The Painted Rock.’

‘The what?’

‘It’s a rock. It’s painted. You can’t miss it.’ I begin to tell him where it is, when he touches my lips with his finger.

‘I’ll find it.’ His eyes search mine, and I see a familiar longing in them. He takes his finger away, leans over and brushes his lips against mine, and to my dismay, I feel the familiar stirring. I am disgusted with myself. I pull away, but he is already gone.

I am standing there when I hear the car door slam. I scurry around to the front.

Jeanine is wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants and a North Face jacket with a scarf wrapped around her neck. Her hair is tousled, pulled high on her head with two chopsticks sticking out of it. She gives me a nod and lets us into the spa, closing the door behind us.

‘So what’s so urgent?’ she asks. ‘You look like hell.’

I smile despite myself. ‘So do you. I just need to check that laptop.’

She doesn’t say anything, and I smell the rosemary incense as we go down the hall. She lets me go first into the room where I find my laptop undisturbed. It isn’t off, but merely sleeping, and with one touch it springs to life, my search complete.

With just a few keystrokes, I find Amelie Renaud. I have to use her, at least at first. I rummage around a small desk in the corner and come up with a scrap of paper and a pencil. I scribble Amelie’s information: her Social Security number, her current address, and, most important, her credit card information, including the security code on the back of the card. I know I can’t get an airline ticket; the security at airports is too strong these days. I’ve heard enough grumbling among my friends who’ve flown to know that my expired driver’s license will be caught immediately. But trains? No one checks identification on a train.

I will have to get to Boston. Providence is closer, but more risky. I will buy a couple of train tickets – one to New York, one to Washington. There is only one train line that runs between Boston and Washington, and I can get off anywhere in between if things look dicey. I’m not sure how quickly Amelie will discover someone has used her credit card, but if she’s like everyone else, she’ll report it immediately and the card will be deactivated. The train ticket, though, will already be in my hand.

I might only have the chance to use the credit card number once. But I don’t know that I really need to use it more than that. Tracker has connections in New York, connections that can get me a whole new identity.

I glance at the clock on the laptop. I don’t have much time if I’m going to meet Ian. I haven’t really decided whether I will, though, and I’m too distracted by thoughts of how I can survive at the moment.

I go to the chat room and don’t see Tracker there. I leave him a message: I need you. Meet me here at seven o’clock.

But I’m not sure I can wait that long, so I go to the other room and find Angel, the hacker who led me back to him. I ask that we meet in a private chat room.

I thought you had everything you needed, Angel writes when he comes into the room.

Can you tell Tracker to meet me where we were before? I type.

He’s not available.

What do you mean?

He’s on a job for someone else right now. I can help you.

I don’t like the sound of this. I am rusty, but not that rusty. Thanks anyway, I say and log out quickly, just in case someone else is watching. The plan that has been circulating in my head dissipates as I wonder what’s going on.

I may still be able to find Tracker’s connection in Miami, the one who’d taken care of our documents the last time. But Miami is too far away. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to get there without some trouble. And even if I get there, I have no idea if the connection still exists.

It has been such a long time.

I sit back in my chair and take a few deep breaths. I will manage somehow. I will be able to escape. I have to.

I see the edges of the bills in my backpack. I think about Ian waiting for me, and suddenly my thoughts turn to Zeke.

I don’t like to think about Zeke, what happened that day, because it was all my fault.

After that first time Zeke came to the house to check up on my father, I didn’t give him another thought. But a couple of weeks later, he showed up again.