Normally, I would give Devon more than forty-five minutes to meet me at the first spot on the predetermined list, but after yesterday, I’m sure he’s refreshing his feed every few minutes like I am. And the hashtag won’t make sense to anyone but Devon, but I need him to know I have something to give him so he can tell me where to leave it.
Rachel adds a packet of sugar and some creamer to her coffee, then turns to me while she stirs it in. “Does Ryan know?”
“He does,” I say as I continue to scroll, refreshing my own feed. It only takes a couple of minutes for him to post a comment on Spotify’s latest post: See you soon by Coldplay is underrated #TwinkiesAreToo
Guess I’m looking for the Twinkies when I get to the meeting spot.
I close out of the app, then book it upstairs to pack. I throw some clothes in a bag and move to the bathroom to gather my toiletries. When I come back into the bedroom, Ryan has his own bag sitting on the bed, open and half full.
“Do you think I’ll need a suit?” he asks.
I dump the stuff in my arms into my bag before moving to the closet for my shoes. “I need to do this alone.” I can’t look at him.
“I understand you think you need to do this alone, but you’re not alone anymore.” His gaze catches mine from across the bed. “I’m coming with you.”
I match his stare. “But you would miss work on Thursday and I know how important the appointments on Thursday are for you.” I’m pushing right now to see what I can shake loose.
His head tilts to the side, his eyes narrowing. “I’m willing to tell you my secrets if you’re willing to tell me yours.” His voice is deep and a bit unsettling. “You go first.” There’s a glimpse of the guy who ruled that warehouse yard.
I just cross my arms and look at him.
Ryan throws his hands in the air when I don’t take him up on his offer. “I’m not asking any questions. I don’t scare easily. And I really don’t want you doing whatever it is that you think you need to do alone.” We continue to stare at one another until he finally adds, “Plus, my skill set may come in handy in a pinch.” And there’s that smile. The one that makes him utterly charming.
And as much as I thought smiling was impossible right now, I give him one right back. “And what skill set is that?”
He shrugs and continues packing. “Take me along and find out.”
I’m torn on what to do about Ryan. Mr. Smith decided this was the job to put me in while we played this macabre game, and I need to know why.
Mr. Smith will expect me to go alone. Until this point, I wanted to be 100 percent predictable, and now I need to be the exact opposite. Plus, Ryan’s arguing pretty hard to come along even though he’ll miss James’s funeral and a week of work. Very curious.
Forcing out a deep breath, I make a show of giving in. “I make all the decisions. If I need to slip off to handle something by myself, there is no argument from you. Not a single word.”
He nods. “Don’t even think about ditching me along the way,” he says with a smirk. “I can see it all over your face.”
We both know that option is always on the table.
* * *
Rachel is pissed Ryan is going with me but she isn’t.
I load our bags into the back of my 4Runner, while closer to the house Ryan is squaring off with Rachel in a heated conversation. I shut the back hatch and turn toward the street, committing it to memory. I will miss it more than I want to admit.
Slipping into the driver’s seat, I wait for Ryan. When he hears the engine turn over, he looks at me over his shoulder. Rachel reaches for him when he moves toward the car. She knows things about me that he does not, things she can’t tell him since I’m protected by client-attorney privilege, and she’s frantic to stop him from coming with me.
He’s not having it.
Ryan slips into the passenger seat, then rolls down the window as Rachel approaches his side. He wanted us to take his Tahoe, but this is my show, and if I do decide to leave him somewhere along the way, I’m going to need my own car.
Rachel gives me a look I don’t particularly like, then focuses on him. “I’m not joking, Ryan. No later than eight thirty on Friday morning in Atlanta. I’m working on the detectives meeting us in a location other than the precinct, so as soon as that is finalized, I’ll let you know where.”
“You’ve mentioned all of this a number of times,” he answers. His head drops back against the headrest, his gaze fixed on the windshield. Her hands grip the open window as if she’s physically trying to stop us from driving away.
I fidget around in my seat, ready to go. I don’t do good-byes. At all.
Ryan must feel my unease because he gives me a nod and I put the car in reverse, letting off the brake enough that Rachel has to pull her hands free and take a step back. “I’ll call you,” he says to her as we start inching backward. “And don’t be surprised if you have to pick me up after she’s abandoned me somewhere.”
She clearly doesn’t think his joke is funny.
Once the window is rolled up and we’re on the street in front of his house, he asks, “Do you need me to book a hotel in Atlanta? I mean, I assume that’s where we’re heading.”
“I’ve got it handled,” I answer.
I pull out of the neighborhood onto one of the busy streets that runs through town, then turn in to a gas station. “Can you fill us up while I go in for a few snacks for the road?”
He’s out of the car before I finish the question.
“Get me a Coke and some chips. BBQ flavor,” he says just before I step inside the store.
I walk down the snack aisle, grabbing a couple of different bags of chips and a package of peanut butter M&Ms, and I spot Devon filling up a cup at the fountain machine. I pull the folded-up paper from my back pocket and slide it under the Twinkies. While I’m checking out at the register, he has moved to the snack aisle to retrieve the handwritten letter that will catch him up on what happened yesterday and give the details of the plan I came up with. It’s not the best form of communication, but it’s old-school enough that I know it can’t be hacked. If everything goes the way it should, I will see him in person soon.
When I get back to the car, I slide into the passenger seat.
Ryan looks at me through the open driver’s-side window, where he’s still pumping gas. “I’m guessing you want me to drive now?”
“Yes, please,” I answer before taking a swig of my Diet Dr Pepper.
“You’ll have to tell me where we’re going if I’m driving,” he says once he’s back in the car.
“Get on the interstate and head east.”
We drive for a while without a word between us. The car is quiet. No music playing. No conversation. Only directions when needed.
The land flattens out as we head into the Mississippi Delta, where there’s nothing but row crops for miles and miles. We’re off the main interstate now, bumping along the back roads through the small towns that pop up every hour or so. The kind of towns where the speed limit drops from fifty-five to thirty-five with little warning, so the driver isn’t prepared for the speed traps that generate the revenue that supports them.
We stop for gas again, and Ryan insists on paying for it. I insist he do it with cash. He pulls out a bulging wallet filled with twenties as if he is more prepared for this trip than I gave him credit for, and I remind myself that he’s as shady as I am.
“I’m sorry you’ll miss James’s funeral,” I say once we’re back on the road.
He lets out a deep sigh. “Me too.” I don’t think he’s going to say anything else until he adds, “I spent years helping James . . . saving James. I gave him money, clothes, a place to stay. Put him in rehab more than once. I was a crutch for him. He knew I’d be there. He knew I’d save him. So why bother getting your shit together if there’s always someone saving you?”
A few minutes pass before I say, “I don’t need saving.”
His head jerks in my direction. He looks at me while I stare straight ahead, then his attention focuses back on the road. “I know that. There are things you may need, but saving isn’t one of them.”
This makes me want to ask questions. So many questions. But he made it clear—he’d show me his but I have to show mine first. So instead of questions, I say, “In two miles, you need to take a left.”
Alias: Wendy Wallace—Six Years Ago