she had been arrested didn’t actually exist, that they couldn’t actually do anything to her for being accessory to my death, because I wasn’t dead, and that as a last resort I could always reappear to kill the charge. But, I wondered then, suddenly, would her mind, having gone that far, go on to the next fact, the one staring me in the face right now? And that was that if I reappeared, what was I going to tell them when they asked me what it was all about and where Shevlin was? I could tell them that he had escaped from me. Sure. But what was I doing down here? Running from that grand-jury investigation at home? No. Because I didn’t even know that such a thing existed. Again, I had covered my tracks too well. And, also, if I reappeared out of limbo right here in this city where she was and to save her from the charge, it would tie the two of us together. Shevlin missing, and his lovely wife down here with me? It was a tabloid editor’s dream come true, and they’d have a confession out of one of us inside a day.
I was calmer now and my mind was beginning to function, as it always seemed to do eventually when I was in a jam. It was a lot like the way I had felt that day up at the cabin on the lake. After the first shock wore off and I could see that the chips were down and I had to do something, I could think. I was conscious now of this growing clarity, this ability to see all paths at once and the dangers inherent in each one. And the first thing I could see was that I was going to have to get out of this room, and get out of it fast. I wasn’t safe here; this was probably the most dangerous place in town for me right now. I sprang up from the bed. Why hadn’t I seen it before? Someday, I thought, I’m going to realize something like that just a minute too late.
Taking the key out of my pocket, I left it on the dresser. Since she didn’t have it with her and they’d know it when they searched her, it had to be here unless I wanted them to know somebody else had been here with her. As for the other things, the clothes and the bags she had bought, there was nothing to do but leave them. But no, I thought suddenly. I can’t. I can’t leave those two bags. I was with her when she bought them and helped her pick them out. The man who sold them to her could probably describe me to the police as easily as he could describe his brother. And since they were after Shevlin, they’d be backtrailing her all over town to see if anybody had seen him with her. I grabbed them up and looked out into the corridor. It was clear, and I slipped out hurriedly, closed the door, and went up the stairs to my room.
That had been close, and I’d probably caught it just in time. They would have her at the station by now. And, since they were after him and since it would be logical to assume that if she were here in town he might be too, there’d be dozens of them shaking down the hotels right this minute. The thing to do was get out of here, and the sooner the better. They’d be here any minute with her picture. Thank God, I thought, we weren’t registered together and the hotel people had no reason to connect me with her. Of course, they weren’t looking for me, but my description, if they had it, would be one that would stick in the mind, and I couldn’t take any chances of having them begin to wonder just how dead I was.
My bag was already packed. Just for a moment, as I saw it sitting there, the agonizing hell of what-might-have-been and the despair and bitterness came rushing back and hit me. In six more hours, I thought, we would have been on the plane with all the rest of our lives before us. Then I got hold of myself. I couldn’t go to pieces that way. I had to keep moving and I had to keep my head. Dragging a hand roughly across my face, I went over