“Thanks so much,” she looked at the card. “Andy. How much is the fare?”
“Like I said, forty bucks flat rate. You send it when you can, but it’s been nice meeting you!”
He sped off as she ran in the opposite direction to her house then hit the beach, doubling back, climbing up on the access bridge and then walking up one block to her bungalow. She picked up the key under the doormat, another thing she was going to change, and let herself inside, locking the door behind her.
She’d hardly had time to get her breath when she heard a banging on the door. It made her jump. She slipped into the bedroom and peeked through the corner of the drapes on the window perpendicular to the front door. Her car was right behind the man in a mechanics jumpsuit.
So now she’d have wheels! Opening the door, she stared at his face.
“Geez, what’s the matter with you?” he asked.
“The bombing—Marco’s in the hospital.”
“Oh, that was his office? I’m so sorry. How bad is he?”
“Major broken leg, knee’s banged up. But at least he’s alive. Four others didn’t make it out.”
“Was it a gas leak?”
“No, it was a bomb.”
“Yeah, I had intuition about that. You know, your car was tampered with. First, they disconnected the battery on one side, but they punched holes in one of your hoses, and your engine would have overheated if you’d gotten it to start. Now you’re talk about this bombing, and to me, and I’m no cop, but it looks like someone didn’t want you to go anywhere.”
“Or wanted Marco to drive me. I think that was the goal.”
“Well, you guys have enough on your plate. But I’ll send the bill by email, and Marco can take care of it when he’s out of the hospital. In the meantime, you be careful. Watch for little things because even though I went through the car, looking for other stuff—checked the tires, made sure nothing was put in the water or drained the coolant, gas tank, etc., you never know. No driving at night alone in case something I didn’t catch pops up, okay?”
“That’s fair.”
“Here are your keys,” he handed them over. Shannon could have hugged him she was so happy to have wheels. As he was turning away, she called out to him.
“In the commotion with the explosion, somehow I lost my purse and phone. Where can I get one of those ‘temporary’ ones, cheap?”
“Any of the liquor stores would have burner phones for sale. Some of the stereo stores too. Walmart has some with instant prepaid service. There’s a Walmart just down the road about two miles. Big one too.”
“Thanks so much.” She hesitated but decided to ask another question of the friendly mechanic. “By the way, do you work on anyone else’s cars at Marco’s company?”
“You mean on his dime?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he’s got a truck for Rhea or maybe Dax. Not sure who drives it the most. Company truck.”
She nodded.
“He’s got the delivery van for hauling things to and from here and the airports, picking up supplies, things they need. And then there’s Rebecca’s Mercedes. He still services it.”
“How long has that been going on?”
“Oh hell, they first came out here in, well, it would be about seven or eight years ago? She lives in Manhattan, of course, but when she drives it down, it always needs servicing, detailing, and little things fixed.”
“That never changed after the divorce?”
“Well, he kept paying the bill. So I guess nothing changed, did it? At first, I wondered, about a year ago when I did some work for her, when the divorce had been finalized, and I figured he’d object if he didn’t intend on paying for it, and he didn’t squawk at all. Pays in full and quick. Wish I had a hundred customers just like him.”
After the mechanic left, Shannon went in search of any cash she’d left in a purse or favorite jacket or drawer, finding only a few bills and some coins. She searched Marco’s things and then pawed through his little secret drawer by the bed where he kept his special creams and lubes—his little surprises for her in bed. But despite some interesting toys he’d yet to show her, there was no evidence of a second secret life he might be living outside their relationship, and there certainly was no cash there, either. But on the top of their dresser, she’d forgotten about a bowl that contained spare change he’d deposit there before taking his evening shower. She picked out all the quarters and even a couple silver dollars, which added up to nearly twenty-five dollars. She hoped it was enough to buy a phone.
Shannon placed the coins in a baggie and drove to the local drug store, finding a prepaid phone on special for just under fifteen dollars, and after tax, she had a few quarters to spare. The packaging touted that it would accept collect calls but no messages, which was perfect. The young man behind the counter inserted the activation chip and turned the phone on to make sure it worked, handing it back to her with a few simple instructions for use.
Sitting in the parking lot outside, she dialed Judie but got no answer. Then she dialed Jared, almost hanging up before he answered.
“Jared Newsome.”
“Jared. It’s Shannon. Listen, I’m in some trouble.”
“Already? I just left you—what?—a few hours ago at the hospital. How’s Marco and how the heck did you manage to get into trouble at a hospital?”
“Marco did well in surgery, but it’s going to be a long road for him. Remember when last night I couldn’t find my purse and cell phone?”
“Yeah. From the look of this number, my guess is you bought another?”
“Yes. Just got it. Still haven’t found my purse, which I think was deliberately taken with all my contacts in that phone.”
“Okay, so where’s the trouble part and why are you so stressed and buying phones? I figured I would have heard it on the news if he—anyway, what the heck’s going on?”
“I overheard a conversation I wasn’t supposed to hear. He admitted to the investigators Rebecca might have been responsible for my older sister’s death. He told them Rebecca was probably the bomb procurer, the one who set it up. Everyone in the world wants to talk to me, and I need to disappear somewhere. Marco even told me I’m not safe. I don’t feel safe, even with all the bodyguards he’s proposing. I don’t know who to believe anymore and who I can trust.”
“I’m honored you called me.”
“Don’t get any ideas.”
“One can hope.”
“There is no hope, Jared. But I need your help.”
“Why don’t you feel you can trust Marco?”
“Because he lied to me. Or he omitted this information. Why would he do that, Jared?”
“Well, he did just wake up in a hospital with injuries from a bombing. Maybe he didn’t have time. Are you sure you’re thinking clearly?”
“That’s why I need to get away. I need somewhere I can think, piece things together.”
“Where are you calling from?”
“I’m outside the drug store where I bought the phone. But I don’t have any credit cards or money right now. I can go to the bank tomorrow and get all that straightened out, but could you spot me a few hundred dollars just for a couple of days so I can buy gas and food, a motel room—whatever I need, until I figure out what’s going on?”