then Bobby showed up to rescue her. I had to hide before he recognized me.”
“Fuck!” Bruce yells, then asks in a lower voice, “Where are you?”
“You don’t wanna know.”
He’s silent for a second. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Tommy. You want me to do it?”
“No. This is all me. You know that. You just take care of your part.”
“Okay, but throw this phone away and use the one I put in the trunk with the blanket and stuff. Oh, and there’s some food, too, so you’re good for a little while. I’m throwing this burner I’m using, away, too, just in case. I’ve got another one. I programmed that number into your other burner so you can call me. Or I can call you. Got it?”
“Got it. Hey, Bruce. Are you near a computer?”
“Why?”
Turning the car right toward Golden Gate Park, I pull up behind a cop car who’s just pulled out from a parking spot. My heart stops. “Bruce.”
“What?” he asks, picking up on my fear.
I hiss quietly, “I’m behind a cop car.”
“Shit! Get out of there!”
All the muscles are tight in my body and my jaw is clenched. “That could draw attention. I’m going to turn when I can, like nothing is wrong. Stay here with me.”
“Okay.” We’re both silent as I follow the cop for another block.
At the next street, I tell my cousin, “I’m turning right. Cross your fingers he didn’t spot me, that he doesn’t turn on those lights and whip around.” As this clunker makes its way into the right-hand lane of the new street, I flick my eyes several times to the rearview, my chest pulsing hard.
“Is he coming?”
I watch in silence for the length of seven Victorian homes, then, “Nah. He’s gone.” Exhaling, I give my shoulders a little shake. “That was too close.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the city.”
“What?!”
“She’s in the city, dipshit. Where am I supposed to be?”
“You’re supposed to be out of there in daylight! That’s where!”
Knowing he’s right, I growl, “Look, do you have a computer or not?”
“Yeah, I do. Why?”
“Find Rebecca Wells. Google her and ‘charities.’ She’s gotta be listed with a contact number.” While I wait for him, I flip the radio on to calm me down. Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas comes on and I change the channel to Classic Rock. The opening guitar riff of Led Zeppelin’s Over The Hills and Far Away sounds through the speakers and I put my hand on my thigh, tapping out the chords as I drive. “You got it?”
“Yeah. She’s gorgeous. Who is this? Is she going to help you?”
“Ha,” I say, dryly. “That’s a laugh. No. But I want to talk to her.”
“Tommy–”
“Bruce! Give me the damn number!” I bellow, my patience shot. He does, but he can’t stop himself from muttering that I have a death wish.
Dialing Rebecca’s number, I wonder if she’ll answer an unknown caller. She just might since she gets calls all the time from people she doesn’t know, working with all those organizations.
After three rings, I hear her smooth voice. “Hello?”
With Zeppelin playing softly in the background, I drive along, imagining her soft, dark hair pulled back over her ear with the phone pressed against it. Her long legs crossed in an elegant pencil skirt. Her supple lips pursed as she waits for me to talk, those almond-shaped, soft brown eyes of hers concentrating underneath a small frown.
“Hello?” she asks again, this time with a tinge of urgency. “Tommy?”
I hang up.
I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before I called. I’m on the news. She’s probably seen my escape. The last guy to escape San Quentin was Eduardo Mariscal in September of 2000, a legend on the inside. I’m sure my escape is broadcasted across the nation now.
Rolling down the passenger window by hand, I toss the phone onto the road and drive off.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Annie
Baby: kicking my insides. Husband: laughing at me.
“It’s not funny, Brendan!” I cry out from the couch where I sit tucked under a fuzzy, white throw blanket, my feet up on the leather ottoman. With my hands pressed lightly against my belly, I tell our unborn child, “Jacob honey, I love you. But you have to stop kicking my bladder or I just might kick you back. It’ll be self-defense. Many mothers will back me up on this.”
Brendan’s gray sweater stretches taut across his broad shoulders as he reaches to hang a Statue of Liberty ornament, compliments of Mark and Nicole, on a