warn anybody close to us—no family, no friends. And of course, nobody died.
What I did do was sulk around the apartment for most of those anxious days, thinking of other possible moves we could make—i.e., Plan C—while half expecting the police to show up at some point to cart me off in handcuffs. When they didn’t come around, I figured we’d dodged a bullet fired by a deranged man.
Meanwhile, Ruby had less than a two-week supply of Verbilifide left, plus the specter of major surgery on the horizon, and all I needed to do—assuming I was through playing the identity theft game—was come up with a few hundred thousand dollars in that time frame.
“I’m glad he caught us,” Ruby said.
“I’m not. How are we going to get your medication?”
“I’ll take something different, something Atrium will cover. When the generic becomes available, I’ll start taking that.”
“You have to take the best drug for you, not just any drug.”
“Then we’re going to have to go into debt or get on The Today Show. Maybe we could start a Kickstarter campaign or use INeed-CashNow. com.”
“Is that really a Web site?” I asked.
Ruby smiled. “Yeah, I looked it up.”
“Assuming that we don’t get a windfall payout from INeedCash-Now. com, how many credit cards do you think I can get? We’ll never get out from under.”
“We can do anything we set our mind to,” Ruby said, kissing me on the lips en route to the bathroom with her make-up kit in hand. “You need to have faith.”
“I’m not big on faith.”
“Well, get big,” Ruby said.
She was already packing to leave and downright giddy about abandoning my plan—Plan A—not that I could blame her.
“Did you call the Realtor?” Ruby asked, her voice echoing from the bathroom.
Ginger could be seen pacing the room as well, equally eager for a return trip home, it seemed.
“Yeah. I can break the lease and forfeit our security deposit. The couple renting our place is willing to relocate for a little ‘sorry for the inconvenience’ cash. But we’ve got to stay in this place until the end of the month, regardless. You know, we could stay a while longer—”
From the kitchen, through the bedroom, I could see Ruby poke her head out the bathroom door.
“That was a joke, right?”
“Joke,” I said. “That was very much a joke.”
“I’ve hated every second we’ve been here, John,” Ruby said, returning to her packing.
“We’re together, and you’re alive,” I said.
Ruby’s head poked out from the bathroom door again. “Don’t try to guilt me with the gratitude thing,” Ruby said. “That’s not fair. You know what I mean. This hasn’t been my favorite experience.”
My hands went into the air in a show of surrender.
Plan C (whatever you are), it is.
My cell phone rang. Thanks to Uretsky, the sound of any phone made me jumpy. I checked the caller ID and saw it was David Clegg calling. I let the call go to voice mail. A few seconds later, Clegg texted me.
John, I need to talk with you. Can we meet? Call me.
“Crap,” I said to myself.
“What’s up?”
Ruby came out of the bathroom, holding a cardboard box of things she had packed, and saw that my expression had darkened. “What’s up?” she asked again, now pointing to my cell phone.
“It’s Clegg,” I said. “He wants to meet up with me.”
A look of concern crossed Ruby’s face. “Maybe he wants to meet you because he knows something,” Ruby said. She spoke in a whispered voice, as if Clegg could somehow hear her.
“Knows what?” I whispered back. Why was I whispering?
“That we stole someone’s identity.” Ruby made a “Duh-uh” expression and lowered her gaze in disbelief of my ignorance. “He’s a cop, John. Think about it.”
My throat closed with the first sputter of nerves. I unlocked my phone and called back Clegg. He answered on the first ring.
“What time do you want to meet?” I asked.
CHAPTER 14
I saw David Clegg a few times each year, but never on the anniversary of Brooks Hall’s death. Clegg would disappear on that day, and nobody knew where he went or what he did. He’d just up and vanish, and then return a day later, never telling anybody where he’d gone, his wife and kids included. I never asked Clegg how he marked the somber occasion, though he knew I spent it writing a letter to Hall’s widow, Amanda.
On the first anniversary of the accident, I got a call from Amanda’s attorney, requesting that I write to her. I was asked to provide a