Page 34 of Capturing Hearts

Chapter Twenty-Three

Tommy

Nerves: Shot. Me: Stuck. Car: Blue 1983 Dodge Colt.

“C’mon, Bruce, you couldn’t have gotten me a nicer car?” I grumble, yanking the stick shift into neutral after the damned thing’s conked out on me again. I grab a curly fry from the fast food bag beside me and chew as I give the car some gas. This time it starts up and I pull away from the parking lot across from Location Times Three at a casual, restrained speed. The hoodie Bruce left me is pulled up around my head shielding me from view, but there’s no one here anyway. From my years working at the ad agency, I knew it’d be closed on Christmas Eve, so I came to take one last look around. I thought I needed closure to my old life, but it just made me feel like crap.

I should escape to Canada, and I should do it now. That would be the smart thing to do. But I can’t. I’ve got to stay here and finish what I started.

My burner phone rings and I pull it out of my pocket to see a number I don’t recognize. But there’s only one person who’d be calling: Bruce.

“It’s about time,” I tell him, hitting speaker and laying the phone in my lap. “Couldn’t you get me a better car? And these jeans are way too loose. What, dya think I’m a fatty?”

He’s nervous and it shows in his voice. “The beater was the safest thing I could find. It’s small and unintimidating. And I had to guess on the pants. You’re welcome,” he adds with dripping sarcasm.

I chuckle, looking to my right so I can change lanes. “Thank you. And I appreciate the cash, too.” I grab another fry and start crunching.

He pauses and doesn’t join me in the smile. “Tommy, you’re on the news.”

I swallow the fry before it’s ready, and mumble, “I’m not surprised. Guess I won’t be buying things again until I’m out of here.”

“What’d you buy?”

“Just some food. You don’t know how long I’ve been craving a burger.”

“Did you see her last night? Did you take care of it?”

I stop at a red light and wait. “I saw her. But she heard me coming and then Bobby showed up to rescue her. I had to hide before he recognized me.”

“Fuck!” Bruce yells, then asks in a lower voice, “Where are you?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

He’s silent for a second. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Tommy. You want me to do it?”

“No. This is all me. You know that. You just take care of your part.”

“Okay, but throw this phone away and use the one I put in the trunk with the blanket and stuff. Oh, and there’s some food, too, so you’re good for a little while. I’m throwing this burner I’m using, away, too, just in case. I’ve got another one. I programmed that number into your other burner so you can call me. Or I can call you. Got it?”

“Got it. Hey, Bruce. Are you near a computer?”

“Why?”

Turning the car right toward Golden Gate Park, I pull up behind a cop car who’s just pulled out from a parking spot. My heart stops. “Bruce.”

“What?” he asks, picking up on my fear.

I hiss quietly, “I’m behind a cop car.”

“Shit! Get out of there!”

All the muscles are tight in my body and my jaw is clenched. “That could draw attention. I’m going to turn when I can, like nothing is wrong. Stay here with me.”

“Okay.” We’re both silent as I follow the cop for another block.

At the next street, I tell my cousin, “I’m turning right. Cross your fingers he didn’t spot me, that he doesn’t turn on those lights and whip around.” As this clunker makes its way into the right-hand lane of the new street, I flick my eyes several times to the rearview, my chest pulsing hard.

“Is he coming?”

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