Chapter 4
FOUR
My legs burned. My throat was bone dry. And it was well past dinner time. My stomach growled loudly enough that I actually glanced around, half expecting someone to hear it over the wind rushing past my ears.
Each push of the pedals sent a dull ache shooting through my thighs, the muscles protesting every mile I forced them to carry me. The too-small bike didn’t help. My knees lifted higher than they should have, the awkward rhythm turning what should’ve been a smooth ride into a slow grind.
I mentally cursed the bike.
I cursed Steele.
Then, for good measure, I cursed everything else that had somehow conspired to land me in this disaster of a situation.
For the past several hours I’d followed a string of lesser-traveled roads toward Berea, keeping away from highways and anything that looked too busy. The quiet roads wound through stretches of farmland and clusters of trees, occasionally passing the odd farmhouse or rusted mailbox.
Each time I spotted a car in the distance, my heart jumped into my throat. Each time it passed without slowing, my lungs finally remembered how to breathe. All the while, my mind spun through possibilities.
I needed to get out of Kentucky. The thought repeated over and over, like a drumbeat in my head. Distance was my only safety now, but escaping the state wouldn’t be easy. Without my credentials, flying was impossible. Not that I had the money for a plane ticket anyway.
That left few options. Buses. Trains, maybe—but those were fewer and farther between.
A bus station was my best shot.
Which meant reaching a town big enough to have one.
Berea wasn’t a huge city, but it was bigger than anything else around here. If there was a way out nearby, chances were I’d find it there.
I crested another hill, my legs screaming in protest. Suddenly, a massive blue sign rose above the trees ahead. The bright lettering of the super center seemed to glow against the fading evening sky, calling to me like a beacon.
Relief surged through me so strongly that I forgot to pedal. The bike wobbled wildly beneath me, and I fought to bring it back under control.
Shit. I couldn’t get careless now. I was too close.
Strength renewed, I leaned forward over the handlebars and pedaled harder toward town, shoving the pain in my legs to the back of my mind.
The road gradually grew busier as I got closer. Traffic increased exponentially, and gas stations and fast-food joints sprang up on either side of me. It took another hour before I finally coasted into the massive parking lot of the super center, my legs shaking with fatigue as I slowed the bike.
The place was enormous, its glowing entrance swallowing a steady stream of people and shopping carts. I steered the bike away from the main entrance, circling toward the back of the building where the employees parked.
I rolled between two parked cars and carefully slotted the bike into the narrow space between them, angling the frame so it was mostly hidden from view. As much as I hated this stupid purple bike at the moment, I couldn’t afford to lose it.
I stretched slowly, my muscles screaming as I climbed to my feet. My back ached, and I bit back a moan as my legs nearly buckled from the sudden change after hours of pedaling.
I untied the sweatshirt from around my waist and wiped it across my face, then down my arms, trying to remove at least some of the dust and sweat from the ride. It wasn’t much, but at least I wouldn’t look like I’d just crawled out from under a rock.
Taking one last glance around the quiet corner of the lot, making sure no one was paying attention, I turned and headed toward the entrance. The automatic doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and a blast of deliciously cool air hit me the second I stepped fully inside the store.
For a moment I just stood there, letting it wash over me.
My overheated skin prickled with relief, and the constant stickiness of sweat finally began to fade.
Part of me wanted to sink to my knees right there and sprawl out of the cold concrete floor.
Only the thought of germs and Steele’s men propelled me into movement.
I grabbed a cart near the entrance, forcing my movements to stay casual as I pushed it forward.
Keeping one eye attuned to my surroundings, I steered toward the grocery section.
I rolled into the snack aisle and grabbed several protein bars, tossing them into the cart one after another without bothering to compare flavors.
Into the cart went resealable bags of almonds and raisins for energy, two apples, a loaf of bread, and peanut butter.
I didn’t have a knife for the peanut butter, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
I’d scoop it out with my fingers if it meant the difference between starvation and survival.
Next came the essentials: jeans and a couple of tee shirts, a pack of socks, underwear, and a cheap pair of tennis shoes that would surely be more comfortable than my old boots.
I added basic toiletries to the cart, then perused the hair dye section.
I needed a color that would change my appearance so completely that no one would ever recognize me.
Brown or red? I weighed the boxes in my hands.
Brown was definitely different, and it would cover my blonde hair.
But it felt safe, unassuming. Red was bold and unexpected.
In the end, I went with a compromise—dark auburn.
It was different enough to disguise my identity without drawing unwanted attention.
Satisfied, I moved on to the camping section.
Rows of outdoor gear lined the walls—tents, lanterns, coolers, things I’d never seen before and had no idea what they were used for.
My gaze landed on a heavy-duty backpack hanging from a metal rack.
It was dark gray with multiple compartments and thick straps that looked like they could handle a decent amount of weight. Into the cart it went.
Beside the backpack I found something even better—a traveler’s wallet. It was slim and compact, designed to be worn around one’s midsection, almost completely undetectable under clothing. And impossible for someone to grab without me noticing. I added it to the pile.
Knowing I’d already spent too much time—and money—here, I pushed the cart toward the front of the store. The self-checkout lanes came into view, and I made a beeline for them. The less interaction I had with people, the better.
I chose a machine near the end and began scanning my items one by one.
Instead of placing the items in the plastic bags hanging nearby, I stuffed everything directly into the backpack as I scanned them.
The traveler’s wallet I wrapped snugly around my waist beneath my shirt, adjusting it until the slim pouch rested comfortably against my stomach.
I cast a quick glance around before reaching into the pocket of my jeans and retrieved the wad of cash I’d stolen from Steele. I quickly counted them out. I had just enough to cover the transaction. Once I was somewhere safer, I would have to dig out the rest of the money I’d hidden away.
I fed several bills into the machine, watching carefully as the screen updated with each one. The money disappeared into the slot with a mechanical whir. A moment later the machine chirped and printed out a receipt.
I grabbed it automatically and the remainder of my change followed, which I quickly folded and slid into the concealed wallet along with the receipt.
I zipped the backpack shut and lifted it onto my shoulder.
The feeling of being watched assailed me, and the hairs on the back of my neck lifted in warning.
I cast a look around. Across the checkout area, a man stood near one of the exit lanes.
As soon as I glanced up he turned his attention back to the register in front of him.
I tried to dispel the nagging sense of unease, but instinct told me something wasn’t right. I slowed my motions, deliberately taking my time as I watched the man bag his things, then turn to leave.
Grabbing the backpack strap, I slung it over my shoulder, keeping him in view as I headed toward the exit. I passed a hair salon, then a small kiosk for hearing aids. A sign caught my eye, and I did a double take. I halted midstride at the sight of a popular bus line.
I scanned the departure board above the ticket counter, my heart racing.
A middle-aged woman sat behind the counter, and her wary gaze swept over me, cataloguing my raggedy, sweaty clothes and the scratches that marred my face and arms. “Can I help you?”
The board flickered as my eyes settled on the next departure: Great Falls. It didn’t leave until close to midnight, but anything else would have to wait until tomorrow.
The answer came to me instantly. “Great Falls,” I said, the name rolling off my tongue like it had always been the plan. The name sounded pretty, the epitome of the old west. Somewhere wild and free. The perfect place for a fresh start.
She nodded and punched the information into her computer. “That’ll be $247.52.”
It was an astronomical sum of money. I was certain there were other options, places close by that would save me money. The cash I’d stolen from Steele was quickly dwindling, and I’d be broke soon if I wasn’t careful. Then again, I couldn’t place a value on freedom.
Lowering my backpack to the floor, I bent down and fiddled with the flap for a moment under the guise of retrieving a wallet.
Quickly checking my surroundings to make sure no one was watching, I delved inside the cup of my bra and fished out the money I’d squirreled away earlier.
It was damp with sweat, but I couldn’t afford to be embarrassed.
With a shaky smile I handed over the cash. She took it with barely concealed disdain, printed off the ticket, then slid the ticket and my change across the counter.
I tucked everything inside my traveler’s wallet and slid the backpack over my shoulders. “Thank you.”