Where he went, she didn’t say, only that the authorities couldn’t be far behind either of them.
Cara put the visor back up as Rae checked her rearview mirror and then scanned the empty highway ahead. “I wish I’d had a chance to thank him. I can’t believe he took off without at least saying goodbye.”
“That’s my Billy for you.”
“I’m sorry I messed up your time together.”
Rae grinned. “We had a nice night. We’ve never been able to live with or without each other, so we just do both.”
“You’ve been together a long time.”
“Thirty years, minus two when we called it quits—twice.”
Cara noted from the highway signs that they were heading away from Yosemite. As the traffic became steadier, and the houses closer together, the relative comfort of being with Rae dissolved and her old fear returned. Even though Rae had given her a broad outline of where they were headed, Cara was still flying blind. But what else was new? Sweat broke out on her forehead and the base of her neck when they reached the town limits.
Welcome to Oakhurst, California. Population 5,945.
Driving with one hand, Rae reached into the glove compartment, pulled out a white #10 envelope, and gave it to her. Cara opened it. Inside were two Visa gift cards for $200 each, $250 in cash, and a slip of paper with a handwritten Tarzana address.
“What is this?”
“Travel insurance. From Billy and me.”
“I can’t accept?—”
“You’re gonna need every dime and a safe place to crash. When you get there, look for a peace sign in the window. If it’s there, then there’s room.”
“And if there isn’t?”
“Let’s assume the best. A woman named Willow will answer. Tell her you’re from Blue Skies Window Washers.”
Assuming the best felt risky, but what else could she do?
“You seem like you’ve done this before,” Cara said, thinking Fisk had clearly been several steps ahead of her as he nudged her toward this inevitable conclusion.
“There are plenty of good people around who won’t or can’t play by the usual rules,” Rae confirmed.
“How do you know Willow?”
“I’ve never actually met her. But I do know she helps people who don’t want to be found.”
Cara slouched down in her seat as Rae signaled a right turn and pulled up to the entrance of the Oakhurst Public Library. “What are we doing here?”
“You can use one of the library computers to buy your tickets. Head north on Greyhound to throw them off the trail—Sacramento would be good—and then buy an Amtrak ticket to LA.”
“But I don’t have a library card or any kind of ID.”
“Don’t need either one. Walk in, get online, and create an email under a made-up name. Use that email to buy your tickets, then buy a burner phone at the mini-mart so you can download them and have them on hand.”
“Where do I get on the Greyhound?”
“In Madera. The local bus leaves at 10:48 a.m. from the Best Western on Highway 41. You can pay the driver in cash.”
Cara checked her reflection in the makeup mirror one more time. The concealer she had borrowed from Rae didn’t exactly match her skin tone. She would have to trust that, if she didn’t recognize herself, no one else was likely to, either.
Rae reached across her and opened the passenger door. “Better get going. It’s about a ten-minute walk from the library to the bus stop if you hustle. But don’t skulk. Walk right up like you belong.”
Cara wanted to give her a hug but received no indication the gesture would be welcome, so she simply climbed out of the truck.
