in since I left Indiana, where the car salesman assured me I was purchasing a perfectly reliable Toyota, but he was a car salesman; he couldn’t very well tell me he was selling me a lemon.
The second I got that text asking me if I’ve ever checked my car for a tracker, my heart had sunk to the soles of my feet. For all my paranoid ways, that thought had never occurred to me. That was one way to explain how he always found me, that’s for sure. I suppose I could have just taken it to a mechanic and had them check it, but it made more sense to get a new car since I was determined to get a new life. So, I traded in my car for a cheap, barely functioning car, and let the car salesman keep the profit.
I also left the car in an abandoned car garage that looked two days away from being demolished. The car was in my name, and if he was tracking me through my financial footprints, he’ll know I bought a different car, and he’ll know I bought it in Indiana.
After ditching the car, I met a woman at the bus depot, and pleaded with her to buy me a ticket west to Missouri, and from there, I had caught a bus back north towards North Dakota. Both stops I had managed to find a sympathetic woman and I lied, making up a story about how I was fleeing from an abusive husband. Once I had told them that, they had been more than willing to help me out. I had felt bad about lying, but the more I thought about it, the more I figured I wasn’t really lying.
I was fleeing from someone I felt was dangerous.
I had also sent Karla one last text from my phone telling her he’ll never find me in Indiana. Even though I used a throwaway phone, I was careful with my texts. Any conversations Karla and I had that included details were done over the phone. Our texts didn’t give off any information about where I was going ever. They were mostly checking in and asking if I was okay. If he were able to get to my texts, he would just think Karla was checking on me.
I left the phone in the car in Indiana and didn’t bother to purchase a new one. I was lucky enough that the last bus I caught went through Brant, and while it didn’t normally stop in such a small town, the driver had made an exception for me. I quickly discovered that, with Brant being such a small town, there were still functioning phone booths scattered around the town. I had called a cab and given him Karla’s address. I figured if Karla’s plan worked out, I could throw a car and phone into the deal and live off the grid, but still be able to live.
And now, it was Friday evening, and I was paying and tipping the driver as I looked up at the lovely cottage looking home that Karla lived in. After the cab driver took my money, he got out of the car at the same time I did and went around to grab my bags from out of the trunk. I had two suitcases, one duffle bag, and a carryall bag. I didn’t own much and the carryall I had strapped across my body had all the money I had in it.
I reached for the suitcases, but the driver slapped my hands away. “Don’t you dare, Miss Fallon,” he scolded. “That’s not how we do things here in Brant.” When he had pulled up to pick me up, he had gotten out and opened the door for me. He had also introduced himself as Jacob, as he took his hat off and actually dipped his head. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen manners like that.
I smiled because he was just so sweet. “It’s not?” I teased.
He shook his head. “Absolutely not,” he emphasized. “My momma would come clean out of the grave and whoop my ass if a woman ever carried anything around me.” I smiled because he looked to be in his late fifties, but the respect he had for his mother long passed was sweet. “And I don’t need that mean, old woman coming back from the dead.” He looked up towards the Heavens. “Lord help little Black babies everywhere because there’s nothing like a pissed