His thin lips flatline, and he shakes his head. “I don’t know, Noah.”
“Come on, Netty,” I press, gritting through the pain as he keeps working on my arm. “I need to take the shot while I still can. If they find any trace of me…”
He reaches for the gauze. “Your face is plastered on every fucking news channel. All it takes is one misstep, and you’re done.”
I let out a breath as he finishes the wrap. “I know.”
“Is your getaway driver trustworthy?” He nods toward the door.
“Yeah.”Just highly un-fucking-stable.
“Then keep them, and make them drive you as far as they can go,” Netty says, handing me a black duffel bag. “There’s a change of clothes in here for you.”
“I really could use that contact,” I repeat, unzipping the bag to see a couple of pairs of jeans, sweats, and shirts. “I’d be safer in Mexico. I could head south, cross in Texas, make it to Belize somehow.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t run across Texas anymore. It’s too risky.”
“Okay,” I stand to my feet, feeling slightly better and worse, all at the same time. “Then I guess I could ship through Miami?”
“Nope. Don’t run through there either anymore.”
“Well, what the fuck, Netty?” Agitation fills my chest.
“I only have one pipeline,” he says calmly, handing me an orange pill bottle. “And in that pipeline, onlyonefucking coyote I’d trust not to turn you in for that hefty fucking reward.”
“Where’s he at?”
“Down by Maricopa,” Netty answers me flatly.
“Holy shit,Arizona?”
He chuckles, shrugging. “Yeah, quite a road trip for you. And it’s one hell of a hike through the reservation to get across once you are there. I don’t really think you’re up for that.” He nods to the white gauze on my arm. “You needweeksof fucking rest.”
“Fuck,” I groan, running a hand over my face. “Maybe I should hightail to Canada then.”
“No fuckin’ way,” Netty’s voice sharpens. “I’m telling you. You find a rural place that doesn’t give a shit, and you fit in. Problem solved.”
I sling the bag over my good arm. “I still want the contact. Just in case.”
He stares at me for a moment and then shakes his head, giving in. “Fine. But don’t use them unless you have to.” He grabs a piece of paper and a pen and scribbles some shit down that’s barely legible.
I eye it as he shoves it in the back pocket of the duffle bag.
“It’ll make sense when you get there.”
“Okay,” I say, a moment of distrust bubbling up in my chest. For all I know, Netty could have the Marshals on their way right now.
But I push that thought away and slip back out into the garage, where Rue and Bullet are still waiting in the car.
There’s no way that damn dog will make a hike through the desert. I’ll have to drop them off somewhere along the way.
And the thought makes my stomach sick.
I just have to keep reminding myself it’s for the best.
“I’m sorry for what happened to you,” Netty’s voice catches me off-guard, and I stop, a few feet from the Pathfinder, turning back to face him. A sad expression is etched across his face. “And I know the truth, Noah.”
My chest tightens. “What?”
