Inevitable Sentences (19 page)

P
RISCILLA PACED BACK AND
forth in the lobby of her apartment building, then stopped and checked her watch. She peered out the window and took several more steps, checked her watch again, and went back to the window to study the driveway. The cab was nearly fifteen minutes late.

She stared at the snow falling, painting the area in a gauzelike film. She wondered if the driver could get to her at all.

She fingered the gun in her purse, no longer questioning her willingness to give Lizzie the weapon. She wouldn’t. She was taking it for her own protection, against Chad, if needed.

Maybe the cab’s tardiness was an omen. Was it too late to turn Chad and Lizzie in? Why would that be hard to do? Had she returned to the wild druggie she thought she had left in California? Her complicity in the escape said, yes, she had. The Los Angeles police knew Dwayne had an accomplice. They had tried to get him to squeal. He didn’t. Had the police closed the case? Would Dwayne hunt her down and punish her himself once he made parole? Priscilla had no answers to all the questions that had been floating around in her mind since Lizzie proposed her scheme.

Headlights flashed through the window. The illuminated cab sign, hazy in the snow, greeted Priscilla and she rushed out to get into it. She struggled with the car’s door, jiggling the ice free from the handle and it finally sprung open, nearly knocking her backward. Whatever had happened to the chivalrous cabbies who eagerly helped their passengers?

Priscilla flopped onto the rear seat and said, “Pizza Hut on Highway 41.”

The cab driver eyed her in the rearview mirror. “Nasty weather for a ride to get a pizza, young lady.”

It was none of his business what she did. To forestall more curiosity, Priscilla said in as calm a tone as possible, “I promised to meet a friend who needs my help.”

“I’ll get you there, but I’m takin’ it slow, eh? You need to be careful gettin’ home, young lady after you and your friend have pizza.” He offered a fatherly grin. “Your friend coulda waited another day, wouldn’t you say?”

“Umm …” Priscilla had no desire to engage in a conversation with the driver. She didn’t want him to know any more than that he was taking her to Pizza Hut—bad weather or not. She leaned back in the seat and stared out the window as the cab made its slow progression to their destination.

While the cab inched along, Priscilla checked her watch several times. Minutes ticked by quickly. She sighed. Lizzie must have thought she wasn’t coming. Well, too bad. She and Chad had no choice. They had to wait. They couldn’t ride around town and hit the highway in a truck with the Michigan Department of Corrections seal on its doors.

And why did she care what those two did or thought anyway? She’d get there when she could. She wasn’t the one who was escaping. Not yet anyway.

But what would she do once tonight was over? It all depended on what the authorities found out about her part in the foolish plot. “Damn.” She couldn’t go on as usual even if no one discovered her part in the plot. What the hell was she doing? Was she on some kind of joyride?

“What was that you said?” the driver asked.

“Nothing. Just get me to the Pizza Hut.” Priscilla’s tone was surlier than she wanted.

“Yes, ma’am. Only a few minutes more.” The driver sounded worried rather than upset with her attitude.

Thankfully, few cars were on the roads. The drivers who did dare to journey had other concerns than who passed by them in a cab. It meant fewer witnesses.

What was she thinking? She wasn’t a suspect in anything and cabs rarely drew anyone’s attention, no matter what the weather.

Nearly twenty minutes later the driver pulled in front of the Pizza Hut. “Do you want me to wait? Because I don’t think I’ll be on the road for much longer, eh? There aren’t many cabs running tonight.”

Priscilla handed him the fare along with a reasonable tip. Nothing too flashy that he’d remember her for. What was she thinking? He’d remember an idiot woman out in a horrible storm. “No. My friend will either drive me back, or I’ll go to her place, which is nearby.” She opened the door, slid out and planted her ankle-high boots into eight inches of snow. The snow seeped over her boot tops, slipped down her ankles and melted against her skin forming puddles around her feet. Her skirt hem dragged in the snow, becoming heavier the wetter it got.

The driver didn’t move his cab. Priscilla hiked up her skirt and walked toward the Pizza Hut, hoping he would see that she was doing what she said she was going to do. Still he sat there. What was he doing? She didn’t dare turn to investigate.

Finally, she couldn’t hold back her curiosity any longer and turned around and looked. The driver was paying no attention to her at all. He was on his CB radio. After writing something down he drove off.

As the cab rounded the corner and disappeared, all the lights in the Pizza Hut went off. The store had shut down for the evening. What would have happened if it had not been open when the cab got there?

“Close call,” Priscilla murmured. She tightened her scarf around her neck, leaned into the blustery wind, and quickly, but gingerly walked, still holding her skirt up, through the mounding snow to the car rental agency.

A bell over the door signaled her entry, and a haggard, gray-haired man came out from a back room. His name tag said John Kurk. “Are you Ms. Sinclair?”

“What?” Priscilla sounded puzzled. “Oh, yes. Sorry. The weather has me frazzled.” She at least had been smart enough to reserve a car so the rental agency would stay open until she got there. She also patted herself on the back for calling from a pay phone. She didn’t want the call traced to either her home phone or cell. Watching all those police stories on TV had finally paid off.

“Glad ya got here. I want to close up and get home while I still can.” Mr. Kurk pulled up the information he needed on the computer and began to type. “I’ll need your driver’s license.”

Priscilla retrieved her wallet from her purse and took out the fake ID. Her real license and credit card were tucked in the desk drawer at her apartment. She handed the card to him, her entire body tensed like a taut wire. Surely it would break.

When Kurk typed the number on the card into the computer, Priscilla’s heart stopped. Would he discover there was no such person as Jane Sinclair or maybe that she was dead? She wondered how Lizzie and Chad had come up with the name.

Kurk hesitated for a moment, then picked up the license and held it close to his eyes. Could he detect that it was a fake? “You’re a local, eh? What do ya need a rental for?”

The address on the license was for a nearby apartment. “My car broke down on the road.” Priscilla shrugged. “It was towed away before I called you earlier. You’re the closest rental place.” Did she sound convincing or did she give too much information and say it all too fast? “I’ll need a car to get to work,” she added.

Kurk put the ID down. “Damn bad luck on a night like this.” He went back to typing in the needed information after handing the license back to Priscilla. “Good picture,” he said and smiled.

Priscilla lowered her shoulders to a more relaxed position. “Thanks. It’s better than the usual morbid ones.” She tried to sound lighthearted.

“Yeah. Most of us look like jailbirds in those pictures.”

Priscilla’s heart skipped several beats when she heard the reference to jail, and chuckled nervously.

“Do ya want insurance?” Kurk set the nearly completed form in front of him on the counter.

“No, thank you.” Priscilla wouldn’t need anything once the car was turned over to the escapee and his girl. “My insurance is already paying for the rental.”

Kurk checked a box on the form and slid the paper to Priscilla. “Sign here.” He pointed to the area checked.

Priscilla picked up a pen and began to sign her real name but swiftly recovered, turning the
P
into a
J
and signed Jane Sinclair. She handed the paperwork back to Kurk.

“Credit card?” he asked.

Priscilla handed him the card Lizzie had given her. Would it go through? Whose account had they stolen?

Kurk swiped the card and punched some other numbers into a machine. “Damn.” He punched several more times. “The computer’s down. I’m surprised it didn’t happen earlier with this storm, eh?”

“What does that mean? Will I be able to get the car?” How ironic. The escape plot would be stymied because of a computer glitch. It almost seemed like a good thing. It would all end right there at Rent-a- Wreck. She held back a sardonic laugh.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll do it the old-fashioned way.” He printed the numbers from the card on the form and passed it over to Priscilla to sign. “I’ll call it in tomorrow morning. Anyway, you’re a local and won’t be going far.”

“No, not too far.” Did Kurk notice that Priscilla’s hand shook as she signed? She handed the paper back to him.

He tore the receipt off the rental agreement with the credit card numbers printed at the top and handed it to Priscilla. “Guess you don’t need directions or a map.” He handed her the keys and laughed.

“No. Hardly.” She smiled and took the keys. “I’d better be off. Thanks!”

“You’re quite welcome. Be careful on the roads.”

“I plan to.” Priscilla had to push hard to open the door against the wind that tried to hold it shut. When the door eventually released, a rush of snow swirled inside and danced at her feet. She walked tentatively through the mounting snow that covered the ice below.

More snow fell into her boots, and she wished she had thought of bringing a change of socks. She’d be lucky to get to the falls before her feet froze into two solid blocks.

Suddenly Priscilla’s thoughts drifted to photographs of the 1940s showing men hauling large ice blocks with wrought-iron tongs, and she shook her head. She shouldn’t let her thoughts wander mindlessly. She had to stay focused. She hadn’t needed to rent a wreck. She was one—a nervous wreck.

Priscilla had to walk to the end of the lot filled with what appeared to be well-maintained older model vehicles. With each step her feet squished in the pools of frigid water inside her boots.

Finally she found the 2000 blue Ford Explorer. The auto executives wouldn’t be happy when they found out an American-made vehicle was used as the getaway car in a prison break.

Priscilla opened the door and slid inside. As soon as she started the engine, Kurk wasted no time turning off the office lights. Only a few lights illuminated the lot. Within seconds she saw him scurry from the office to a car and drive away.

Priscilla kept her attention on her own getaway. She turned the heat and defroster on full blast. Cold air exploded into the car. She moved the control until she could feel warm air, but still shivered. Would she ever get warm again? She made sure the SUV was locked in four-wheel drive, put it in gear, and drove cautiously away. The windshield wipers scratched and slapped, scratched and slapped against the glass, in a labored, yet unsuccessful attempt to clear the view. She nearly sat on top of the steering wheel to enhance her ability to see through the glaze.

Priscilla felt some relief when she passed the Westwood Mall. She was drawing close to Dead River Falls.

She checked the darkened stores that made the empty parking lot seem more eerie in the sparse lighting. Even the twenty-four-hour Wal-Mart was closed, although the roads had been recently plowed. At least that made her travel less difficult.

As slow as the drive was, Priscilla knew it would all be over in a few miles. Forestville Road came up. She wished it was one of her usual trips to hike at the falls and think over her life and let herself slip into a happier memory of a summer’s outing to Dead River. She could actually visualize the steep trail to the enchanting falls that cascaded over rock tiers to the bottom of a gorge shrouded in a lush carpet of small shrubs snug in the forest.

Priscilla glanced out the side window to the reality of her frozen world, which seemed so unfamiliar. She knew the night was hardly over. After she got to the powerhouse Chad and Lizzie had to drive her all the way home in the dreadful weather. Would they even be able to make it? Snow was falling harder. She could barely make out the bridge directly in front of her.

Once over the bridge she saw the snow-blanketed food service truck. Exhaust from the running engine billowed into the air like smoke. All the lights were off, probably so the vehicle wouldn’t be detected.

Priscilla pulled alongside the truck and waited. There was no movement anywhere in the area. Had Chad and Lizzie left? She was an hour late. How had they left? Surely they wouldn’t go on foot. All of a sudden she was overwhelmed with foreboding. Something wasn’t right. Where were they?

Priscilla turned in her seat half-expecting to see police rush out from the dark snowy haze to arrest her. No one came. Then she heard a loud rap on the driver’s window and nearly jumped through the roof. She turned to see that it was Chad dressed in street clothes. Without the prison blues, he seemed ordinary.

“Get out of the car,” he yelled over the thunderous wind.

Though his tone concerned Priscilla, she had no choice other than do as he had asked. She opened the door to get out but was tugged back onto the seat. In her anxious state she had forgotten to unlock the seat belt. She chuckled nervously.

Once freed from the restraint, she got out of the car. At that moment she realized she was actually bigger than Chad. If anything went wrong—what was she thinking?

“Do you have the gun?” Chad held his hand out.

“Where’s Lizzie?” Priscilla was disturbed by her absence and Chad’s abrupt request. She wished she could get a better look at him. What little light shone from the powerhouse was obscured by the relentless snow. All she could really see were the whites of his eyes.

“I asked if you had the gun and ammo.”

Chad clearly sounded irritated. “Yes. And I asked you where Lizzie was.” She wasn’t about to let him push her around.

“She’s in the cargo area of the truck changing out of her uniform.” He tilted his head toward the truck, but kept his eyes on Priscilla. “Give me the gun and we’ll tell Lizzie to get a move on so we can get the hell out of here.”