“Or we could just steal a car and keep our money.”
“We’re not stealing a car.”
“Okay, we borrow a car and return it at a future date, to be determined, at a location of our choosing,” Stella said, her gaze falling back to the book.
“I’m pretty sure that’s still stealing.”
“I’m not suggesting we borrow a nice car. It can be a clunker, something that won’t be missed.”
“A nice car is more likely to be insured.”
“Settled, then. A nice car it is. Perhaps a BMW.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Stella marked her place in the book with her thumb and closed the cover. “I’d prefer never to set foot in a place like the one where you found me, but for a girl on the run, options for earning an income are limited. I’ve learned the value of a dollar. I fully understand how difficult it is to earn a dollar, and when it comes to vehicles, I prefer to stick with the ones purchased by someone else’s dollars, particularly when they are so readily available.”
“So you steal?”
“Now that I think about it, I do believe I prefer the term ‘borrow.’ I never should have said ‘steal.’ Stealing is wrong. Borrowing is neighborly, friendly. Like when you say you’d like to borrow a cup of sugar, which you then use and are unable to return, but still, everyone wears a smile. Moving forward, I will only ‘borrow’ cars.”
The exit ramp dropped us on 395, and the town of Minden popped up around us. Not much of a town at all. Most of the buildings stood only one or two stories. A large number appeared vacant. Minden looked like an old mining town that managed to claw its way into the twentieth century but was now living on life support.
“A place like this, I don’t think you could borrow or steal a car without getting caught. We need a big parking lot, someplace where nobody will see us,” I said, studying both sides of the street.
“You’ve clearly never borrowed a car before. Pull in there—” she said, gesturing toward one of the largest buildings in town.
“A hospital?”
I swung a quick left and slowed as we followed the pavement over a quick dip, then into the parking lot surrounding the building. About a quarter of the spaces were occupied. More than I would have expected, for such a small town.
“Doctors and nurses work extremely long shifts, sometimes days at a time. A borrowed car may go unnoticed for nearly half a week. Plus, you said you wanted a nice car.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“There!” She pointed at a small area off the main lot marked Staff Only, blocked by a gated arm. “Park here somewhere, in the visitor’s section. It will be some time before someone finds it among the visitors.”
I pulled into a space at the back against a hedge row between a large pickup truck (green) and a beat up Winnebago (tan and brown). The employee lot was about fifty feet away, kitty-corner.
“Gather our things. I’ll find something,” Stella said, unfastening her belt.
“Are you sure you’re okay to—”
She was out the door and halfway to the lot before I could finish my sentence. There was a slight wobble in her step, but she steadied herself as she went.
What’s the longest you’ve ever gone…between?
A year and two days.
Today was August 9—a year plus one.
I pulled my backpack and Stella’s duffle bag from the back seat and set them next to the Jeep. The book Stella was reading, too. I placed the stolen shotgun behind the bags in case someone drove close enough to see what I was doing. Circling around to the passenger seat, I popped open the glove box. An empty bottle of Jim Beam rolled out and dropped to the floorboards. Without thought, more of a reflex, I picked it up, twisted off the cap, and held it over my mouth, hoping for a least a drop. Nothing dripped out, though. When I realized what I was doing, I cast the bottle into the bushes, thankful to be alone.
The only other items in the glove box were the vehicle owner’s manual, registration, and a flathead screwdriver. I left the manual, shoved the registration into my pocket, and went to the back of the Jeep with the screwdriver to remove the tag. Then I walked back around to the driver’s side and used the screwdriver to pry off the VIN plate. I loosened it years ago, then fastened it back in place with just enough glue to hold it still. It came off easy enough and joined the registration in my pocket.
I was circling the Jeep one last time to be sure I didn’t miss anything, when Stella pulled up behind me in a late model four door Mercedes-Benz E-Class.
The car was white.
