Page 62 of Reclaiming Adelaide

I nodded, rubbing my sweaty hands together.

Stick close.

Stay here.

I’ll protect you.

Do that again and I’ll… Fill in some gruesome death detail.

He couldn’t stay consistent even if he tried.

Jake and Becca left me in the car, its alarm alerting everyone within earshot that he’d taken the key fob, and walked a fair distance into the grass until they stopped at two headstones with a statue of a crying angel behind them.

I unbuckled my seat, keeping my eyes on them, and slid across the bench to the other door.

Jake looked back at the car as if he could see me ready to escape. I held my breath until he turned his attention back to his grieving sister, then slipped out of the vehicle and flung my backpack over my shoulder before shutting the door closed without so much as a sound.

God, I was such an asshole.

Here I was, escaping into the new city while he comforted his sister over their dead parents. But after what happened on the plane, it only solidified my plan to leave.

I bent over and ran, my depleted body huffing from exhaustion before I left the tombstone-laden grass, my mind running along with me at a thousand miles a minute.

How was I going to get money or a phone? Jake took my burner, fake ID, and credit cards. I had nothing but clothes in my bag.

My feet hit the concrete like ominous beats against time. It wouldn’t take Jake long to find me on the main street, which meant the longer I stayed, the faster he’d find me and probably wring my neck for good this time.

I stopped at the light, waiting for a safe time to cross, my gaze catching every bit of movement around me with heightened paranoia. The street cleared, and I crossed, running towards the smell of charcoal and BBQ’d meat. Where there was food, there were people with their wallets out, money on tables, and chitter-chatter to break up someone’s concentration.

The art of deception is distraction.

I walked three more blocks, my thighs shaking and ready to give up, threatening to leave me lying on the dirty sidewalk until I walked into a coffee shop with a logo of a broken cup and the words‘Break’written in calligraphy on the door.

Dark roast and sweet cream hit my senses, making me groan as I looked around.

A man in a dress suit walked towards me with a paper cup full of coffee, a brown honeycombed sleeve wrapped around it to protect his hand from the heat, as he tucked his wallet into his inside coat pocket with the other.

“Shit,” I said as I bounced into him, my hand sliding right into his coat and snatching his wallet with my free hand, then tucking it behind me. “I’m so sorry.”

“Watch where you’re going.”

“You’re right.” I swiped my hand down his suit and tie, pretending to wipe the spilled coffee from his clothes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop.” He swiped my hands away. “Just forget it.” The man glared at me, shook off his dripping hand, and grabbed some napkins from the dispenser before storming out.

I pulled his wallet open and picked out the ID. “Sorry, Clive Moran?”What a weird name. “Desperate times.”

After emptying his wallet of three hundred dollars in cash and a visa, I dumped his wallet in the trash and left.

Well, that was easier than I thought.

“Excuse me,” I said, stopping a woman in red high heels and a tight skirt. “Can you tell me where the closest store is?”

She smiled at me and pointed in the direction I was headed. “Just keep going that way,” she said. Her high-pitched voice reminded me of the 90s TV show with the black-haired woman with an obnoxious laugh. “It’ll be on this side of the street. It’s small, but it has everything.”

“Thank you.”

I looked around, making sure Jake wasn’t around in that ridiculously expensive car that stood out like a sore thumb.

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