any others, and as the cashier rang up his purchases, he checked his surroundings carefully. Nobody paid any attention.
As the cashier rang up the women’s clothes, he smiled. “Why don’t you go ahead and tuck those into the carry-on? I’m surprising my wife with a getaway weekend.”
“Lucky wife.” She returned his smile. “Sure thing.”
When all his purchases had been tallied, he paid with cash and whistled as he took his cart out to the car and loaded everything into the trunk. While he did, he conducted another sharp, detailed scan but didn’t find anything new.
Back at his place, he hauled everything, including the new go-bag, into the apartment. Once he had everything inside, he scanned the rooms, first magically, and then he swept for mechanical bugs. Nothing. Only then did he shrug out of his suit jacket and pour himself a scotch.
This changed everything. Goddamn it.
It was almost ten when he called Molly. He listened to the phone ringing. When she answered, she sounded sleepy. She sounded so fucking sexy, he hardened in an instant.
Huskily, he asked, “Did I wake you?”
“No,” she sighed. He heard something rustle, perhaps the sheets. “Well, almost. I wasn’t quite asleep. What’s going on?”
Suddenly so much rage flooded his body he wanted to punch a wall. “There’s been another development.”
“What is it?” she said sharply. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone put a tracker on my car.” As he spoke, he opened the blinds at the wall of windows in the living room. The view of the city was why he had picked this place. “I can’t come to you tomorrow.”
“What about the other car you drove? The Camry?”
“Here’s the thing, milaya.” He stopped.
It was only in that minute that he realized he had been intending to spend the night with her on Wednesday if she would have him again. Despite all common sense, he had been counting on being with her one more time before he let her go. Giving up that precious, rare opportunity caused a mental outcry that felt like physical pain.
“Josiah?”
He snapped back into focus. “The tracker could be good news. It means I’ve come to somebody’s attention, and they want to see what I’m up to. But I don’t know what triggered it. Maybe it’s something about my movements. Maybe somebody noticed I drive in a way that shakes loose anybody who might be trying to tail me. Maybe they found my car where I parked it at the Y. Maybe they know about the Camry.”
“What if you remove the tracker?”
“I don’t want to. We need to see if we can find who put it on my car. This is an opportunity we can’t ignore. But that means coming to you is out. We’re going to have to set up a meet in town. I’ve got a go-bag for you, and I withdrew a thousand dollars from an ATM tonight. Tomorrow morning I’ll take out another thousand on my way to work.”
“Two thousand in cash?”
“Yes. That won’t be enough, and it’s not what we agreed on, but it will get you out of town and far enough away that your photo won’t be in the news. I’ll figure out how to get you the rest. I’ll also be getting your new ID delivered sometime tomorrow.” He paused. “We need to set up a meet where you can drive straight in, pick up the package, and then leave right away. Somewhere public and easy for us both to get to but with enough space for privacy.”
“Grant Park,” she said.
“Where the zoo is? I haven’t been there yet.”
“Yes, and the Oakland Cemetery is close by. The park has over a hundred acres with plenty of places to meet, and it gets busy when the weather is nice—there are plenty of chances for anonymity. It’s also accessible from downtown.” She added, almost wistfully, “It’s quite beautiful in the summer.”
He thought it over. He could leave his car somewhere, catch several Ubers quickly in a row, meet her to deliver the package, and make his way back to his car. “That will work. Where do you want to meet inside the park?”
“I think one of the pavilions will do.” She described the area while he made a mental note.
He told her, “I’ll text you when to meet me. Do something to pin up your hair or pull it back. The photo they used on the news tonight was with your hair down. I bought you a baseball cap. It’s in your go-bag.”