I started the truck, and drove out of the driveway and back onto the road, keeping the headlights off till I turned on Micmac. I checked the fuel gauge, the needle hovering somewhere between three-quarters and full, and I thought it would be enough gas to get us down to Connecticut. I had been prepared to get gas at a self-service station, paying with cash inside, but was glad that I didn’t have to. So far, no one had seen me in Maine, and I was planning on keeping it that way.
I drove north, toward the entrance ramp for I-95. I got off Micmac before hitting Kennewick Beach, knowing that if the police were onto Brad already, they were probably staked out in front of his cottage. I would have loved to go back there, get a few of his things to make it look like he’d truly made a run for it, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Before hitting the interstate, I pulled into a closed auto shop called Mike’s, one of those backwoods garages surrounded by junked vehicles. With my lights off I pulled into a row of junkers and got out of the truck. I found a car that looked as though it hadn’t been moved through at least two winters and, using my Leatherman, I removed its Maine license plate, then swapped it with the license plate from Brad’s truck. It took about five minutes, no sound except for that steady wind that rustled the remaining leaves in the trees. Licenses swapped, I got back in the truck, the cab light briefly illuminating Brad, his head now lolling unnaturally to the side. I turned away from him, and my eye caught the plastic E-ZPass transmitter glued to the inside of the windshield. There were tolls on the interstate, two in Maine, then another when the highway briefly passed through New Hampshire. I debated whether it was better to zip through tolls with the E-ZPass, and possibly be tracked, or whether I should remove it and go through cash tolls. I decided that paying cash was better and pried the transmitter off the windshield, throwing it into the woods next to the garage. Brad really did just look like someone’s husband sleeping off a drunk, and I would take my chances on anyone recognizing me. My hair was my most distinctive feature and it was hidden under my hat.