Chapter Twenty-Six
With the car engine running and the air-conditioning blasting, he sits in a McDonald’s parking lot, eating a cheeseburger and fries, checking his email, and trying to ignore the stench in the air despite the closed windows.
It’s from the dumpster a few feet from his car. The restaurant is as crowded as everything else in town, so he parked way back here, where he can eat his meal without being noticed.
He shouldn’t have stopped for food at all, but he exerted so much energy today that he’s feeling depleted. He needs to fuel up for the unpleasant task he’s created for himself, all because of her.
And now she’s sent a new email: I can meet you sooner if you want—tonight, maybe?
“Tonight!” He shakes his head, muttering to himself. “No . . . no.”
He has to stick to his plan. It can’t wait.
In heat like this, the car will start to stink quickly. It’s a rental he picked up at the airport. He can’t return it smelling like a carcass, and once that stench seeps from the trunk into the upholstery, there’s no getting it out.
It’s almost dark now. Almost time to head way up into the mountains.
When it’s over, he’ll get some sleep.
He writes back, I’m sorry, I can’t tonight. I have other plans. Tomorrow.
He sends the message and sits holding the phone, troubled.
First she wasn’t available today. Now, suddenly, she is? What kind of game is she playing?
What if it’s a trap?
What if she isn’t who she says she is?
He pops the last bite of his burger into his mouth, licks his finger to get the salty bits at the bottom of the carton of fries, and drains the chocolate milkshake.
He can’t take any chances.
He’ll go up to the mountains as planned, empty the trunk, and then keep right on driving. North, maybe up to Canada. He’ll leave the country for a while, just in case. He’ll have to make up a story . . .
But then, he’s always been good at that.
About to close out the screen and put away his phone, he sees that another email has come in from her.
Tomorrow is fine. I have a place to meet. It’s called Haven Cliff.